LUNA'S POV____
The cold seeped into my bones before I even opened my eyes.
It smelled nothing like the island — no sea breeze, no floral sweetness, no warmth of sunlight. Just stone, smoke… and something else. Something wrong.
I blinked awake.
A cracked stone ceiling loomed above, cobwebs dangling like silent threads. The air felt heavy — like even hope was afraid to breathe here.
I sat up, groggy. My fingers instinctively reached for my neck, then my hand — and froze.
The ring.
Sol's ring. Still on my finger.
Tears welled up before I could stop them. Sol… where are you? Did you try to save me? Did you see me disappear?
"Luna!" a tiny voice cried.
I turned sharply, just in time to catch Myra flying into my arms, her wings trembling as she hugged my cheek.
"You're okay," she whispered, tears slipping from her glowing eyes. "Thank the stars…"
The rest of the fairies slowly came into view — Crysie and Sole peeked from under the bed, Lira and sira huddled by a dusty flowerpot, Petal hovered in the air, and Vina was trying to stay strong, wings flaring protectively.
"I… I thought we were gone," I whispered, drawing them all into my hands. "You're all here."
But the comfort faded as my gaze swept the room — high stone walls, a narrow, shadowy window, heavy doors sealed shut. The place felt old. Dark. Cursed.
Just then, the iron door creaked open.
I flinched, heart racing.
But instead of a soldier or monster, in walked a girl—no, a young woman. Around seventeen, with wild, black curly hair spilling down her back like vines. Her dress was moss green, worn but elegant, and her arms carried a tray of fruit and steaming tea.
She smiled gently. "You're finally awake."
I didn't answer. I couldn't trust her. Not yet.
She placed the tray on the crooked bedside table and bowed lightly. "I'm Meliora Wispthorn. Most call me Meli." Her voice was soft, calm — a strange comfort in this place.
"I'm here to care for you. Nothing more," she added, noticing my wary stare.
Myra hovered closer to my ear. "She's… okay, I think. She's the castle maid, but she's not like the others. She helps us hide sometimes."
I glanced at Meli again. She didn't seem dangerous — in fact, something about her presence felt almost motherly.
Still, I had to know. "Where are we?"
Meli sighed. "Duskvaria. You're in the Devil King's castle."
My breath caught. "Azrael Nyxhart…" I whispered.
Meli simply nodded and turned to adjust the curtains, letting in a faint silver light. No sun, no sky. Just a strange, glowing fog beyond the window.
I turned back to the fairies. "Why am I here? Why us?"
Myra floated up, her expression troubled. "We… don't fully know. But he didn't hurt you. Zephyrael Noctvain — his right hand — was the one who found us. They took you first, then us. But no chains, no cages… yet."
"Yet," I echoed bitterly. "What does he want from me?"
"There are rumors," Myra said cautiously. "That you… you might be connected to his curse. That your presence calms his pain."
I stared, unable to speak.
Calm his pain? What am I — a remedy?
"He thinks keeping you will help him survive," Myra said, voice low. "But I think… there's more. Zeph watches you like you're more than a cure."
I looked at the ring on my finger again.
Sol. I miss you. I want to go home… I will .
I clenched my jaw. "Then we find a way out. Together."
Myra nodded. "We'll follow you, Luna. Always."
Zeph stepped inside, his boots silent against the cold stone floor. His crimson eyes gleamed under the flickering torches, and as always, his expression was unreadable—like a statue carved from shadows.
"princess lunastia," he said, voice calm but commanding. "The King wishes to see you."
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
I stood slowly. "Why?"
Zeph didn't answer. He simply bowed slightly. "He's waiting."
Before I could say anything else, he turned and left the door ajar.
I stood there frozen. Why now? Why me?
Just then, sira flew in front of me, hands on her tiny hips. "You can't show him you're scared."
Floe floated to my shoulder and whispered, "If you do, he'll walk all over you like a tyrant."
"Don't be kind," crysie added. "Not yet. Not until we know what he really wants."
Lira flew near my ear. "Call his name, Azrael Nyxhart. Show him you're not some trembling girl. You're the Moonlight. You're the reason this place hasn't crumbled into dust."
Crysie was tugging at the fabric of my sleeve, adjusting it gently. "You're his need, Luna. Not the other way around. Stand tall."
Floe wiped a small tear from my cheek. "You can do this."
My heart still thundered, but their words steadied me—like petals in a storm. I straightened my back.
They helped adjust my long pale-blue dress, woven with threads of moonlight, then settled in place: Myra and sira on either side of my flower crown, Lira and floe on my shoulders, and Crysie, vina, and Sole hiding gently behind my sash and sleeves.
I took one deep breath.
One step toward the door.
For mother. For Sol. For the fairies. And for myself.
Throne hall___
The massive doors of the throne hall creaked open with a groan that seemed to shake the walls. Luna stood at the entrance, her breath catching in her throat. Cold air brushed against her skin like invisible claws, and an unnatural stillness settled around her. The hall stretched endlessly before her — a cathedral of shadows and silence.
Black stone columns twisted toward the high ceiling like frozen serpents, their surfaces slick with dark magic. Faint blue flames flickered in hovering lanterns, casting trembling shadows that danced along the cold, obsidian walls. The floor beneath her was polished dark marble, smooth as glass, and her reflection stared back at her with wide, uncertain eyes.
The heart of Duskvaria Castle was nothing like any place she had ever seen.
And seated at the very end, on a throne sculpted from jagged obsidian and rimmed with ancient bone, was the Devil King.
Azrael Nyxhart.
He sat still as a statue, yet every inch of him radiated danger. His long cloak draped over the steps like flowing midnight, stitched with constellations that shimmered faintly — a living night sky. His crimson eyes were locked on her, cold and unblinking, and for a moment, she felt the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders.
He was terrifyingly beautiful.
His sharp jawline and dark, tousled hair gave him the face of a fallen god — cursed and captivating. His lips were a straight, unforgiving line, and his hands rested on the arms of his throne, gloved in black leather etched with silver runes.
Luna took a shaky step forward.
Around her, the court stirred.
She was surrounded — not by humans — but by monsters cloaked in elegance. Vampires in regal coats leaned in, their fangs glinting beneath pale lips. Werewolves in dark armor growled low, their eyes golden and beastly. Cloaked witches hovered above the ground, their eyes glowing beneath shadowy veils. Creatures she could not name — beings with horns, wings, scales — lined the sides of the hall, whispering and watching.
Some looked at her with awe.
Others… with hunger.
Zephyrael Noctvain, the king's loyal shadow, stood silently behind her, his blood-red eyes unreadable.
But Luna kept walking.
Her heart was beating fast, fear crawling up her spine like ice — but she remembered the fairies' words.
"You are not his prisoner," Myra had whispered. "You are his need. Look at him with pride. Don't show him your fear."
So she straightened her back.
And as her foot touched the center of the hall — something stirred.
A soft, silver glow began to rise around her. It curled like mist at her feet, shimmered along her arms, and haloed her red hair with an ethereal light. The heavy gloom of the throne room seemed to part around her, as if the darkness itself dared not touch her.
She didn't notice it. But everyone else did.
The air shifted.
Even the Devil King leaned forward, his expression flickering for the briefest moment — not with anger, not with coldness — but with something dangerously close to wonder.
Around her, the fairies glowed.
Sira and Lira rested gently in her flower crown, the petals trembling as they whispered spells of protection. Vina and Floe shimmered near her shoulders, sending tiny sparks into the air like stars. Myra floated close to her ear, invisible to the others but fiercely alert. Sole and Crysie peeked out from the folds of her gown, trembling with unease but refusing to leave her side.
Their presence was magic in itself.
Seven glimmers of life in a hall of death.
And as Luna passed the dark creatures of Duskvaria, every gaze was drawn to her — some wide with curiosity, others narrowed with envy, and more than a few burning with dark lust.
But none dared move.
Because around her, that silver glow was growing. A path of pure light trailing behind her on the black marble — a wound in the darkness.
Only three were immune to its enchantment.
Luna, who didn't even know the power blooming from within her.
Zephyrael, who knew better than to be distracted by beauty.
And Azrael Nyxhart.
Who was distracted anyway.
He didn't know when he'd stood. He didn't realize his wineglass had tilted in his hand, its contents forgotten. He didn't speak. He didn't blink.
He simply stared.
And for the first time in centuries, the Devil King did not feel in control.
"Why did you bring me here, Azrael?" Luna's voice rang out with calm boldness, steady and unshaken. The name echoed through the silent throne hall, and a ripple of shock spread through the gathered monsters and dark beings. Her seven fairies hovered protectively around her, tense and ready to strike at the first sign of danger.
A few of the court ministers raised their brows in intrigue, some smirking, others clearly amused. Even Zephyrael looked up in silent surprise. But the Devil King leaned back slightly, shadows folding around him like a second skin.
"You dare to call me by name?" Azrael's voice dropped like thunder—deep, menacing, and cold enough to pierce bone. His crimson gaze narrowed as he slowly stood, his expression carved in stone.
Luna faltered for a moment, words stolen by the sheer force of his presence. Myra fluttered near her ear, trying to whisper something, but Lira shot forward, her tiny figure blazing with light.
"You dare to kidnap our goddess? Respect does not belong to you!" she snapped, her voice sharp and fierce.
Azrael's brow arched, but before he could speak, Zeph stepped forward with a venomous glare.
"How dare you—you and your stupid little noise squad! Are you looking for death?"
At that, the fairies burst into laughter, their chiming giggles echoing through the cold hall. Sira floated ahead with a grin on her lips and defiance in her glow.
"You and your disgusting little palace should be grateful just to witness the presence of our goddess," she said coldly. "Now you dare threaten us?"
Azrael leaned forward in his throne, resting his chin on his knuckles, clearly entertained. His lips curled into the faintest smile, the first sign of amusement in ages.
"Sira. Behave," Luna said firmly, eyes narrowing. Her voice was calm, but the warning was clear.
"But they aren't behaving—so why should we?" Crysie retorted, arms crossed with a glare.
Luna sighed. "Because if we act like them, we become no better. We didn't come here to fight like children."
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, quietly, Azrael's lips twitched.
A small smile.
Sole nodded gently, her wings glowing. "Yes, we shouldn't waste our time talking to these disgusting creatures."
That was the last straw.
Zeph's eyes darkened. With a flick of his hand, a gleaming black needle shot through the air, fast as lightning. It struck Sole mid-air. A sickening crack rang out as her delicate wings shattered. She fell to the ground like a petal torn from a flower.
"Sole!" Luna gasped, horror flooding her face.
Green, shimmering liquid — her blood — seeped onto the floor. The other fairies cried out, gathering around her fallen form in panic. Luna dropped to her knees, gently lifting Sole's broken body. The strange liquid spread across her palms, sticky and glowing faintly.
She looked up, eyes burning.
"How... dare you..." she whispered, but her voice shook with fury.
A storm exploded within her.
The silver aura that surrounded her blazed into a brilliant blue. The air grew electric, thick with raw magic. Her golden eyes began to shift — not just her irises, but the whites, the pupils — everything turned into pure, glowing blue.
Everyone in the hall froze.
Then a massive hand of glowing blue magic formed behind her — graceful and terrifying. It surged forward with a crack of power, wrapping around Zeph's throat and lifting him off the ground like a doll. He thrashed, gasping, but the grip didn't ease.
Azrael stood.
For the first time, his gaze sharpened, not with amusement, but with focus.
Luna blinked, breath hitching — and suddenly, the light vanished.
She collapsed to her knees, trembling. The hall was silent as death.
"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible.
Zeph fell to the floor, coughing violently, his eyes wide with shock. No one moved.
No one spoke.
Except Azrael, who remained standing — unmoving — his crimson eyes fixed on the girl before him, now glowing with unknown power.
And for the first time… he saw not just beauty.
He saw danger.
He saw a goddess.