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 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,
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 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
Theoden leaned against the post of the training field, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Selene as she demonstrated a clean, fluid shift of energy through her fingertips. She was showing one of the newer warriors—Tamsen, a quiet but fierce addition from Silvercrest—how to stabilize their focus while channeling magic in combat. Selene’s golden power moved like smoke around her hand, soft and pulsing. “Is it weird,” Darius muttered beside him, “that I find that both beautiful and terrifying?” “It’s only weird if you say it out loud,” Luka said, walking past with a practice sword balanced over his shoulder. “Which you just did.” “Yeah, but you’re impressed too,” Darius argued. Luka didn’t respond. Which was basically a confession. Tamsen watched Selene with wide eyes. “How do you know it won’t… explode?” Selene gave a small, reassuring smile. “Because I tell it not to.” Tamsen blinked. “That’s it?” “Well,” Selene added gently, “it also helps not to be afraid of it.” Theoden watche
The wind shifted that night. It wasn’t enough to raise alarms or send patrols running. It was subtle—barely more than a sigh through the trees. But Selene felt it all the same. She stood on the balcony outside their cabin, arms crossed tightly against her chest, eyes on the tree line. Theoden joined her a moment later, barefoot and silent. “Couldn’t sleep?” She shook her head. “Nova’s been… still.” Theoden frowned. “Still how?” “Just… not speaking. Watching. Listening.” Atlas stirred in his mind at that, restless. “She’s not the only one. I don’t like the quiet.” Selene tilted her head slightly, listening for something. “The shield isn’t up anymore.” Theoden didn’t answer right away. “Do you think we should raise it again?” “No,” she said after a moment. “But we need to be ready.” He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him. “I’m starting to wonder if Cassiel is waiting for something,” she whispered. Theoden rested his chin on her s
Rain whispered against the windows. Not a storm—just a steady drizzle that coated the trees and rooftops in a silver sheen. The kind of weather that made everything quiet, even the thoughts inside one’s head. Selene stood in the archive room, holding the parchment she’d found the day before. Her thumb traced the edge where the ink bled slightly, the paper worn with age and care. She’d read it a hundred times now, but it still chilled her. “The fire-haired one is more than she seems. If she remembers, she will be unstoppable.” “You keep staring at that like it’s going to change,” Luka said from behind her. She didn’t turn. “I thought it already had.” He crossed the room and leaned on the edge of the table, arms crossed. “You think it’s from the Book of Endings?” Selene hesitated. “I don’t know. But it feels like it.” Luka tilted his head. “What do you mean, it feels like it?” She glanced over at him. “You ever read something and it doesn’t just sound old—it feels like it came
The morning began with quiet. Not the eerie kind, but the kind that followed days of relentless tension. The kind of silence that let the sound of wind through pine needles take center stage. Birds chirped lazily. Somewhere in the distance, water moved over stone. Selene sat on the steps outside the cabin, her knees drawn to her chest, a mug cradled between her palms. It was still too hot to drink, but she liked the weight of it. The warmth. Theoden’s footsteps approached from behind—steady, deliberate, familiar. He sat beside her without saying anything, his shoulder brushing hers. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It never had been. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, like the morning. “Nova still quiet?” Selene nodded. “Not worried. Just… watching.” “Atlas is the same.” She glanced sideways. “What do you think they’re waiting for?” He didn’t answer right away. “Something’s shifting. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.” Selene exhaled through her nose. “Do yo
The woods were still this time of day. The kind of stillness that came not from silence, but from peace. Not the tense hush before a storm—but the exhale that follows one. Two wolves darted between the trees, pelts flashing silver white and black as they raced toward the river. Nova and Atlas—Selene and Theoden. They weren’t chasing anything anymore. Just the wind. Just the freedom they’d fought so hard to earn. They reached the river at the same time, skidding down the bank and crashing into the water with a roar of splashes and barked laughter. A few moments later, two smaller wolves barreled out of the woods, one dark gray with white paws, the other reddish-gold with eyes too clever for her age. Their children. Kael and Lyra. They tumbled into the shallows, wrestling their parents with soaked fur and wagging tails, before the whole family finally shifted back to human form, dripping and breathless. Selene grinned as she squeezed water from her hair. Theoden pulled her close, p
The earth felt still again. Not dead. Not dormant. Just… still. Like the world had exhaled for the first time in centuries and was finally resting. Selene stood at the crest of a hill just outside Silvercrest, the wind brushing through her hair. The sky was soft, the clouds drifting like whispers. Below her, warriors were gathering. Onyx wolves, Silvercrest wolves, and the remnants of what had once been scattered. Now, they were united. Whole. Behind her, Theoden walked up the hill, his steps quiet. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Ready?” he asked softly. Selene leaned back against him. “I think… I’ve been ready for this more than anything else.” He kissed her temple, slow and lingering. “Then let’s go home.” They returned to Silvercrest first, gathering their things, tending wounds, thanking those who had fought beside them. Cassiel had moved in with the pack. It seemed fitting for the last Elder to be with the pack that guarded t
Theoden stood at the base of the archway, staring up at the massive stone door. It towered above them, ancient and unmoving, but alive in a way that made his skin crawl. The markings etched into its surface pulsed faintly, like the thrum of a heartbeat buried in rock. This wasn’t just a door—it was a wound in the fabric of the world. And they were finally going to seal it. Selene stepped beside him, her fingers brushing against his. “I remember,” she whispered, her voice steady. “I remember the words. The symbols. The rhythm.” “So do I,” Theoden replied. The last time these words had been spoken, it was by a circle of Elders. But instead of sealing the door, they’d used the ritual to erase Selene and Theoden—trapping their souls outside of time, tearing them from the world. The Elders had feared the door, but more than that, they feared the ones born to protect it. This time, the ritual would not erase them. This time, it would fulfill its purpose. Selene turned to Luka and Da
Theoden sat beneath the silver light of twilight, his back resting against the base of a cracked pillar. Smoke still curled through the trees from what was left of the battlefield, and the earth beneath him was scorched, still warm to the touch. But the worst of the fire had passed. The world was still standing. He was still breathing. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly as he pressed a hand over his chest, where the embers of Atlas’s flame had entered him. The skin there still burned faintly—not in pain, but with something deeper. Something sacred. “You should be resting.” Atlas’s voice drifted into his mind again. Still present. Still alive. Theoden smiled faintly. “I am.” “No, you’re brooding.” A breath of laughter escaped him, but it came out soft. Fragile. “Maybe.” A long silence passed between them. “You weren’t supposed to come back,” Theoden said finally. Atlas’s voice was steady, almost too calm. “Neither were you.” Theoden let his head fall back against the ston
Aylexelen shattered into light. It wasn’t like before—no scream of rage, no final attempt at vengeance. Just one long, drawn-out silence as Selene, Nova, and Atlas poured every last ounce of their power into him. The golden light from Selene’s chest merged with Nova’s brilliance and Atlas’ fire, converging like the universe itself had been holding its breath for this moment. And then—he was gone. Ash. Dust. Nothing. The silence that followed felt too heavy to be real. Selene stood there, barely breathing, her power still pulsing at her fingertips. Nova hovered beside her, glowing in her own separate form, but Selene didn’t feel triumphant. She didn’t feel relief. She felt…something. Wrong. Her chest twisted. She turned. And her world collapsed. Theoden was lying in the dirt. Not moving. Not breathing. “No—” His skin was pale. His lips parted just slightly. His beautiful blue eyes—those eyes that had stared into hers with fire and love and life—were closed. And the b
The battlefield was glowing. Golden light and blazing fire twisted through the smoke, dancing across the scarred earth like twin storms. Nova and Atlas moved as if they had always existed separate from their hosts, as if their power had always belonged to this plane. They were magnificent—unstoppable. One, a shimmering beacon of celestial light, the other a relentless inferno tearing through darkness. Selene and Theoden stood at the center of it all, the door looming behind them. A structure ancient beyond measure. Carved from obsidian stone, humming with quiet power. And standing before them—Aylexelen. His silver eyes shone with amusement. And beneath it, something else. Hunger. He raised a hand, and the corrupted creatures that slithered and crawled behind him surged forward. But they didn’t reach Selene or Theoden. Atlas shot through the front line, a living flame ripping into the monstrous shapes, burning them into nothing. Nova followed a second later, glowing so brightl
The world tilted sideways.Selene sucked in a ragged breath, blinking through the haze clinging to her eyes. Her ears rang with silence—not peace, but a high, slicing stillness that felt like it might shatter under its own weight. Every nerve in her body screamed from the inside out, but she was alive. She was whole. Somehow.Beside her, Theoden stirred with a sharp groan, his face twisted in confusion, pain etched into every line. His chest rose in heaving, uneven gasps as he dragged himself upright, eyes wide and searching.They were alive.But the world around them didn’t feel like the one they’d left behind.The sky above rippled with the dying light of the eclipse, pale gold bleeding into deep blue like the horizon hadn’t yet decided what time it was. The ground beneath them was scorched, cracked open in jagged veins of heat, still pulsing with something that didn’t belong. Something other.Selene tried to stand, but her legs shook beneath her. Theoden steadied her instinctively
“Watch out!” Selene barely had time to dodge. A rogue lunged at her from the right—jaws wide, eyes feral—but Theoden was already there, fire lashing from his hand in a controlled arc. It caught the rogue midair, burning him to ash before he hit the ground. “Two more incoming!” Theoden shouted. Selene pivoted, golden light already pulsing at her fingertips. She sent a wave of power crashing into the approaching wolves, flinging them backward like broken dolls. The ground was slick now. Mud and blood mixed beneath her boots. War was no longer a word. It was a smell. A sound. A rhythm in her bones. “Fall back!” Luka’s voice roared through the smoke. “Darius, come on!” The two warriors appeared out of the chaos, bloodied but still fighting, retreating toward Selene and Theoden’s position. Luka skidded to a halt beside her, panting, blood dripping from a gash above his eye. “We can’t hold the line.” Darius crashed in a second later, barely on his feet. “This is insane! They just
It began with screaming. Selene jolted upright, heart hammering, as a deafening howl ripped through the trees. Theoden was already on his feet, eyes glowing, pulling her up beside him before the echo faded. They weren’t at the front. Not this time. They were at the back—the last line of defense. The door rose behind them, carved into the cliff, ancient and closed. For now. Its weight pressed against their minds, humming with silent, dormant power. War had come. They turned. The clearing ahead was already chaos. Rogues flooded from the trees like a tidal wave—snarling, clawing, feral. Selene could barely count how many. Dozens. Hundreds. Too many. Onyx and Silvercrest warriors met them with a battle cry, forming a wall of teeth and steel. Luka and Darius were there—at the center of the line, side by side, holding firm. But already, the field was slick with blood. Selene’s eyes tracked a young warrior—barely out of his teens—slashing with trembling hands before being tackled