Dawn broke over the city of Ardent in soft gold and smoke. The kingdom looked peaceful from afar — marble towers gleaming under sunlight, banners fluttering in the wind — but to Liora, peace felt like a fragile illusion.
Each sunrise only reminded her she was living on borrowed time.
She had spent the night pretending to rest while her mind replayed the voice of the Moon. "Your death was never yours to keep."
What did it mean? Why bring her back only to haunt her again?
Her hands trembled slightly as she crushed herbs for Kael's medicine.
The faint scent of lavender filled the small room, almost masking the unease in her chest.
Behind her, Kael stirred.
"You're awake early again," he said, his voice rough but steadier than before. "Do you ever sleep, healer?"
She didn't turn to look at him. "Sleep is for those at peace, Your Highness."
"Then you and I share the same disease."
There was a ghost of a smile in his tone. But when she finally turned, his gaze wasn't teasing — it was searching.
He sat propped against the headboard, his silver hair catching the morning light, the scar on his chest half-hidden beneath the blanket. The sight of it made her pulse quicken again.
She busied herself with the bowl, forcing distance. "Drink this. It'll restore your strength."
"You treat me like a stranger," he said quietly.
"Aren't you?" she replied.
Their eyes met — two storms clashing.
Before either could speak further, heavy footsteps echoed outside. Finn rushed in, panting.
"Miss Elara! Royal escort—outside! They say they come from the palace!"
Liora froze, the bowl slipping slightly from her fingers.
Her mind flashed with alarm. The palace? Already?
Kael's expression darkened. "What do they want?"
The door creaked open before anyone answered.
A tall woman entered, draped in royal crimson — the Empress's personal envoy, identified by the golden phoenix emblem on her sleeve. Her presence carried an invisible weight, one that made even Kael's guards lower their gaze.
"Your Highness," the messenger bowed deeply. "Her Imperial Majesty requests your return to the capital. Immediately."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I've only just recovered."
"The Empress insists. The court awaits your presence." The messenger's eyes flicked toward Liora. "She also requests that your healer accompany you."
Liora's heart skipped. "Me?"
"Her Majesty heard you saved His Highness's life." The messenger smiled faintly — too faintly. "She wishes to thank you personally."
Something in her tone made Liora's stomach twist.
The Empress didn't give "thanks." She gave warnings, gilded in politeness.
Kael's gaze shifted to her, a rare shadow crossing his face.
"She never summons anyone without reason," he murmured. "If you come, stay close to me."
Liora wanted to refuse. Everything in her screamed danger.
The palace was the last place she wanted to be — the place where she'd been poisoned and buried in another life.
"Tell Her Majesty," Liora began, forcing calm, "that I am only a healer. My duty ends when His Highness recovers—"
"Her Majesty was clear," the messenger interrupted, her polite smile never faltering. "Refusal would be… unwise."
⚜️ The Road to the Palace
By noon, they were traveling in a royal carriage, escorted by armored knights.
The city stretched endlessly before them — cobblestone streets lined with whispering crowds. Merchants paused to bow, children ran after the procession, and banners bearing the silver crescent of the royal family waved in the wind.
Liora kept her hood low, eyes downcast, fingers clenched tightly in her lap.
The closer they got to the palace, the louder the whispers became.
"Is that the healer who saved the prince?"
"She looks too young…"
"The moon blesses her."
The irony of that phrase made her want to laugh. The moon blesses me? The moon had ruined her.
Kael sat across from her, studying her quietly. "You hate it, don't you? The palace."
"I hate what it took from me," she said softly.
He tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "What did it take?"
"Everything that made me human."
For a moment, silence filled the carriage. The wheels creaked, the horses snorted, and between them stretched a distance that neither words nor fate could bridge.
🕊️ The Empress
The gates of the Moon Palace loomed ahead — towering arches of black marble and silver runes that shimmered faintly in daylight.
Liora's breath caught as memories clawed their way back — corridors of gold, laughter, betrayal, blood on her hands.
As they entered the grand hall, the Empress's court awaited — nobles lined in rows, the scent of incense thick in the air.
At the center sat Empress Seraphine, draped in flowing silver robes, her crown shaped like a crescent moon. Her beauty was ageless — serene yet suffocating.
When she smiled, Liora felt the same chill she'd felt in her dying moments.
"My beloved son," the Empress said, her voice smooth as honey. "You return to me whole. The gods are merciful."
Kael bowed slightly. "Your prayers must have reached them, Mother."
Her gaze shifted — calm, piercing — to Liora.
"And you must be the healer who saved my son."
Liora curtsied, heart pounding. "It was my duty, Your Majesty."
The Empress's smile deepened. "Duty… or destiny?"
Liora's breath faltered. The words hung in the air like a blade.
"The moon chooses its servants strangely," the Empress continued, her tone lilting. "I once knew a girl with eyes like yours — a healer too, long ago. She met a rather tragic end."
Every muscle in Liora's body went rigid.
The Empress was toying with her. Testing her.
Kael's hand subtly brushed against hers behind his cloak — a silent warning: Don't react.
"The past is full of ghosts, Mother," he said smoothly. "Let's not invite them to dine."
The Empress chuckled softly, the sound cold as glass. "Perhaps. But ghosts have a way of finding their way home, do they not?"
Her gaze lingered on Liora for a moment too long before she turned away.
"Rest tonight, my son. Tomorrow, the council meets. And perhaps your healer might offer a prayer to the moon — for continued blessings."
That night, as Liora walked through the palace corridors to her assigned quarters, she felt the walls breathing.
Every portrait, every echo of her past whispered to her like old memories crawling back to life.
She paused before a large mural — the Moon Goddess descending to bless the first royal bride.
In the painting, the goddess's face looked eerily familiar — and the bride kneeling before her wore a silver mark on her wrist identical to Liora's.
Her reflection in the polished marble floor seemed to shimmer, flickering between Elara and Liora — healer and princess, mortal and curse.
"Welcome home, Moon Bride," a voice whispered faintly behind her.
She spun around — no one. Only the drifting glow of moonlight spilling through the windows.
But in the distance, atop her high throne, the Empress smiled to herself — her eyes glowing faintly red, the mark of an ancient power.