The storm rolled in without warning. Wind tore through the treetops, shaking leaves loose in swirls of gold and ash. Theoden moved first, sharp and alert, eyes scanning the shadows. Selene followed close behind, her power humming faintly beneath her skin like a warning drumbeat. Luka and Darius flanked their sides, silent but tense. They’d followed the symbol north, deeper into the forgotten wilds, tracking the faint echoes of Cassiel’s power. But something else had found them first. Theoden stopped suddenly, his hand raised. They weren’t alone. Figures emerged from the forest—six of them. All tall, cloaked in deep black, their presence wrong. Ancient. The smell of old magic rolled from them in waves. Their eyes glowed white—not with life, but with memory. Memory of a time before rules, before balance. Elders. Theoden snarled. “Run.” But it was already too late. They moved like lightning. One Elder struck Luka first, sending him crashing into a tree with a sickening crack.
Selene sat up slowly, glancing toward the trees. “Luka. Darius.” Theoden helped her to her feet. “They’re alive.” They stumbled to where the two warriors lay groaning, bruised but breathing. Selene helped Luka sit up while Theoden steadied Darius. “You two,” Luka muttered, voice gravelly and full of pain, “are something else.” Theoden turned to face the north again, jaw set and steady. “No more hiding,” he said. “Cassiel’s out there. We find him. We end this.” Selene nodded, fire burning behind her eyes. Together, they pressed on. — The next two hours were grueling. Every step deeper into the forest felt heavier, the air thick with old magic. The trees grew twisted and strange the farther they went. The bark of one oak pulsed faintly with a reddish sheen, and the moss beneath their boots whispered when disturbed. Nova stirred uneasily in Selene’s mind. “This place remembers things it shouldn’t.” Selene didn’t answer aloud. She didn’t need to. She felt it too—like they wer
The door creaked open with the sound of old stone grating against itself. Cool air drifted from the passageway beyond, carrying the scent of earth and something older—ancient magic, soft and still. Selene stepped through first, Theoden close behind her. Their hands brushed, fingers tangling briefly. She felt the comfort of his warmth and let it ground her. At the end of the corridor, a figure stood waiting. He looked nothing like the Elders who had attacked them. His robes were worn, soft gray with no sigils or symbols. His hair was white, but not from age—it shimmered like moonlight. His eyes were a gentle gold, and they crinkled warmly when he smiled. “Selene,” he said, as if greeting an old friend. “Theoden.” The sound of their names on his lips struck something deep inside them. Selene blinked. “Cassiel.” He nodded. And just like that—everything settled. The tension in Theoden’s shoulders melted. Selene felt Nova exhale in her mind. “He’s safe,” Nova murmured. I remember
Theoden ran like something was chasing him. Selene was right behind him, their feet pounding against the earth as branches whipped past, hearts racing faster than they could think. Luka’s broken voice still echoing in Theoden’s mind. “—can’t… move… Darius—close—too close—“ No directions. No context. Just panic. The clearing came into view seconds later. Luka and Darius lay on the ground, sprawled out and still. Too still. Selene skidded to her knees beside Luka. His skin was pale. His chest barely moved. Theoden dropped beside Darius, pressed two fingers to his neck, then his chest. “No pulse,” he said through gritted teeth. “Barely a breath.” Selene reached for Luka’s wrist. Nothing. “Oh no—no no no.” They didn’t think. They moved. Selene positioned her hands over Luka’s sternum and began chest compressions. “Come on, come on,” she whispered, counting under her breath. Across from her, Theoden tilted Darius’s head back and started CPR, alternating between breaths and co
Theoden ran like something was chasing him. Selene was right behind him, their feet pounding against the earth as branches whipped past, hearts racing faster than they could think. Luka’s broken voice still echoing in Theoden’s mind. “—can’t… move… Darius—close—too close—“ No directions. No context. Just panic. The clearing came into view seconds later. Luka and Darius lay on the ground, sprawled out and still. Too still. Selene skidded to her knees beside Luka. His skin was pale. His chest barely moved. Theoden dropped beside Darius, pressed two fingers to his neck, then his chest. “No pulse,” he said through gritted teeth. “Barely a breath.” Selene reached for Luka’s wrist. Nothing. “Oh no—no no no.” They didn’t think. They moved. Selene positioned her hands over Luka’s sternum and began chest compressions. “Come on, come on,” she whispered, counting under her breath. Across from her, Theoden tilted Darius’s head back and started CPR, alternating between breaths and co
The morning was cold. Selene stood at the front line, the edge of the forest dark and quiet before her. Beside her, Theoden exhaled slowly, his blue eyes locked on the horizon. Luka and Darius flanked them, armed and ready, though neither spoke. They had insisted on taking the lead. Many argued they should wait behind the lines, be the last defense if everything else failed. But Selene and Theoden knew better. If their power was what the Elders feared—then it had to be the first thing those Elders saw. The silence didn’t last long. He arrived without warning. The Elder stepped from the woods like he’d always belonged there. He was tall, cloaked in dark gray, his face youthful but hollow, as though something inside had long since rotted. His magic came first—a pulse that shifted the wind, bending tree limbs, stirring the ground. Then it struck. Selene braced herself, but the force was staggering. She stumbled back three steps, eyes wide as the Elder raised a hand aga
The smoke had cleared. The trees were still. The sky above was gray, muted by drifting clouds, the aftermath of a storm not made of rain but magic. Selene stood with her hands on her knees, catching her breath. Theoden was still on the ground, propped against a tree, his chest heaving, blood drying along the side of his jaw. Luka and Darius knelt nearby, both pale and silent, their bodies bruised and burned, but alive. None of them spoke for a while. There was nothing to say. They had survived. But barely. Selene straightened slowly, her eyes scanning Theoden’s face. He didn’t look at her, just focused on breathing. His shoulders trembled slightly from the strain. Something in her chest tugged. Without a word, she moved to him. He didn’t flinch when she knelt beside him. He didn’t stop her when her hand pressed to his chest—soft, careful, her fingers spreading gently over the worst of the burns. Golden light spilled from her skin. He inhaled sharply. “Selene…” “Shhh,” she
The clearing buzzed with energy. Not the kind that came from fear or tension—but something more focused, more alive. Selene stood at the center, her palms lifted, golden light flickering between her fingers. Across from her, Theoden stood still, arms crossed, watching the glow build between them. “You ready?” she asked. He raised a brow. “You’re the one who said we needed to test this shield thing again. I’m just here for the sparks.” Selene smirked. “Alright then. Let’s make it shine.” She extended her magic outward. The golden light pulsed, growing outward in a shimmering dome that wrapped gently around them. It hovered in place, firm and steady. Theoden stepped forward, adding his fire. It curled around the edges of the shield, reinforcing it—solidifying it. Selene held her breath. The shield didn’t flicker. It held. For the first time… it didn’t vanish after a few seconds. “Well,” Luka said from where he leaned against a nearby tree. “That’s a good start. Looks less li
The morning passed in its usual rhythm—quiet, steady, unhurried. Selene stirred a pot of soup in the main room while Theoden leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed, watching the fog roll in across the fields. The low mist clung to the trees like it didn’t want to let go, and though the sun was rising, the light felt muted. Dim. “I think the moon’s messing with the sky,” Selene muttered, mostly to herself. Theoden glanced at her. “Nova say something?” “She doesn’t have to,” Selene replied, pouring soup into a chipped ceramic mug. “The air’s been off since yesterday. She’s pacing again.” “Atlas hasn’t stopped growling under his breath. It’s charming.” Selene smiled faintly and held out the mug. “Here. Try not to break it.” “I’ve only broken two mugs this month.” “Three,” Luka corrected, walking in with a small stack of books tucked under one arm. “One shattered. Two cracked. And one suspiciously vanished after your last temper tantrum.” Theoden raised a brow. “That was not
Later that evening, the fire crackled softly in the hearth. Theoden sat in the corner chair, legs stretched out in front of him, eyes half-lidded as he absently twirled a dagger between his fingers. The motion wasn’t threatening—just familiar, something to do with his hands while his mind worked through things. Selene sat cross-legged on the rug, several scrolls and papers spread out in front of her. Darius was lying on his stomach nearby, flipping through a stack of old maps, though from the bored expression on his face, he might as well have been reading a soup recipe. Luka sat in the armchair opposite Theoden, one leg crossed over the other, nursing a cup of herbal tea. He was reading slowly through a worn, leather-bound journal that looked like it might disintegrate with one wrong breath. “Alright,” Darius said suddenly, holding up one of the maps. “Tell me this isn’t just a drawing of someone’s really confused attempt at a potato.” Selene glanced over. “It’s a depiction of t
The days after the final battle passed in a strange, uneasy stillness. There was peace, technically. The last of the Elders—aside from Cassiel—had been defeated. The war that once seemed unwinnable was now over. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no immediate threat. They stayed in Silvercrest. No one had said it, but no one had left either. The warriors of Onyx and Silvercrest still trained together. Scouts still patrolled the borders. Watchers were still posted high in the trees. Just in case. Selene sat beneath the edge of the main hall roof, letting her fingers trail along the worn wood railing. The afternoon sun had cast a golden hue across the clearing. In the distance, children laughed, training dummies thudded under practice strikes, and the low rumble of conversation hummed through the village. It was peaceful. But not settled. She felt it in her bones. Something wasn’t finished. “Does it feel like the whole world’s holding its breath?” Luka asked,
Selene had never been this tired. Not even after the ritual that had erased her existence. Not even after remembering everything. Not even after fighting side by side with Theoden against the Elders and nearly dying. No, this was something deeper. Heavier. Her body no longer ached, not physically. The burns had faded, the cuts healed, and her strength had returned. But her mind—her heart—felt frayed, like every breath was laced with invisible threads pulling her in too many directions. She stood in the doorway of the cabin they’d returned to after the battle, her hand gripping the frame like she needed it to stay upright. Theoden noticed immediately. He crossed the room in seconds and gently brushed her hair back from her face. “You’re shaking.” “I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a tired smile. He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” “I said I’m fine,” she said again, wobbling slightly. He caught her before she could fall. “Selene.” H
The world was still. The kind of stillness that followed devastation. Smoke curled lazily from scorched trees, drifting across the shattered clearing in slow, delicate ribbons. The ground was cracked and blackened, a jagged scar in the earth where divine fire had torn through centuries of stone and soil. No birds called. No wind stirred. The forest had gone silent, as if nature itself were afraid to speak. Selene stirred. She coughed—sharp and dry—and winced as the pain in her side flared. Her body screamed in protest, every nerve frayed, every limb trembling. She blinked, vision blurry, lips cracked. Ash clung to her lashes and her tongue tasted of smoke. But she was alive. Barely. Her fingers twitched weakly, seeking something—someone. Then she remembered. Theoden. Panic flared in her chest. She tried to sit up, but her body refused. She rolled to her side with a grunt, dragging herself through the dirt and ash. “Theoden,” she rasped. He was there—just a few feet away.
Theoden’s breath burned. His chest rose and fell in hard, fast bursts, his body slick with sweat and blood. Around him, the battlefield seethed with chaos—twisted roots, scorched earth, broken stone. He didn’t hear the screams anymore. Only the hum of power behind his ribs. Only the fire that refused to burn out. He was a warrior. Created for war. His every breath a weapon. His every movement a calculated strike. Atlas pulsed in his chest like a second heartbeat. Their minds were fused, indistinguishable. The beast inside him didn’t just want blood—it demanded justice. Demanded vengeance. And Selene— Selene was light incarnate. Golden light streamed from her, her hair swirling in the storm of her own power. Her eyes no longer green, but glowing gold, so bright they blurred the edges of her face. She wasn’t just wielding her power. She had become it. Together, they were incandescent. Theoden’s fire twisted upward, coiling around her glow like a crown. His skin flared with go
It started as a tremor. Not in the earth—but in the air, in the space between heartbeats. Selene jolted upright from the small hill where she’d been resting with Theoden. She felt it ripple across her skin, down her spine. The hair on her arms stood up. Theoden stood without needing to ask. “You felt it too.” All across the valley, wolves stirred. Patrols halted. Warriors turned their heads as if drawn by an invisible pull. The shield pulsed—a silent warning vibrating across the magical boundary. Something was trying to get in. Selene and Theoden ran. By the time they reached the northern ridge, Luka and Darius were already there, flanked by several warriors. No one spoke. They just stared through the barrier. On the other side stood five figures. The Elders. Each one different in form and appearance, but all cloaked in the same cold power. Magic coiled around them like smoke, heavy and ancient, pressing against the invisible barrier as though testing its strength. The one
The day was warm and still. For once, there was no danger pressing at their borders, no threat looming in the tree line. The valley held its breath, cocooned in the quiet hum of the shields Selene and Theoden had laid in place. Selene stretched out on the moss-soft grass just beyond the cabin, her head resting on Theoden’s chest. His hand moved lazily through her hair, the rhythm unhurried and grounding. Birds chirped in the distance. The wind rustled through the leaves. Everything was still. For the first time in days—no, in weeks—she wasn’t moving, fighting, healing, planning. She was just… breathing. Theoden’s voice broke the silence. “You know what I like about this?” She tilted her head, green eyes curious. “What?” He smiled faintly. “You’re always glowing.” She laughed softly, a low, musical sound. They lay like that a little longer, tangled together in the grass, soaking in the fragile calm they’d carved out for themselves. They didn’t need words. Everything they felt,
Selene stood at the edge of the central clearing, fingers threaded together, eyes closed. Theoden stood beside her, arms folded, watching the slow rise of the sun as it kissed the tops of the trees. Today was not for battle. It was for building. They had already tested the shields. They knew it worked—knew that together, they could forge something more powerful than either could do alone. Now, it was time to give that protection to everyone. Selene stepped forward first, her hands glowing with quiet gold. She approached one warrior at a time, speaking softly, letting her light wrap around their frame. Each shield she cast was specific, intentional—her thoughts focused on that wolf’s safety, their strength, their life. She whispered words only they could hear. Sometimes a name. Sometimes a wish. Sometimes a memory. And then Theoden would step up beside her. He’d raise his hand, let his fire slide across the gold, not to burn—but to seal. The flame curled around the light, hummin