The place where he waited had no name.
It lay beyond the old observatories, past broken star maps and collapsed domes, where moonlight fractured instead of pooled. Alisha felt it before she saw him—the subtle hush, the absence of judgment.
"You came," he said, turning as she approached.
"I needed answers," she replied.
"You needed honesty," he corrected. "The moon gives comfort. I give truth."
She folded her arms. "Then tell me the truth. What happens if I keep walking the Eclipse Path?"
He studied her for a long moment. "Eventually?"
"Yes."
"You will no longer belong fully to light or shadow," he said calmly. "You'll become a point of tension the world will try to resolve."
Her chest tightened. "By destroying me."
"Or by forcing you to choose."
She looked away. "That sounds familiar."
He stepped closer—but stopped at a respectful distance. "Your mother reached this crossroads too."
Alisha's breath caught. "You knew her."
"Yes."
"What choice did she make?"
He closed his eyes briefly. "She chose the world over herself."
Alisha's voice trembled. "And you?"
"I chose neither," he said. "That's why I survived."
She stared at him. "Then what are you trying to make me do?"
"Nothing," he replied softly. "I want you to choose freely—something neither light nor shadow has ever allowed an heir to do."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, she asked, "What happens if I choose wrong?"
His gaze sharpened. "Then you'll break something ancient."
She laughed quietly. "Everyone keeps saying that."
"Yes," he said. "But they're all afraid of different things."
She met his eyes. "What are you afraid of?"
For the first time, his composure cracked.
"That you'll make the same choice she did," he said quietly. "And call it salvation."
The moonlight fractured around them, splintering against invisible lines.
Far away, the Shadow King felt it—the pull tightening, the board shifting.
He smiled.
Because the heir was no longer walking toward the light.
She was walking toward truth.