The palace never truly slept.
It hummed, breathed, and pulsed with life even when cloaked in midnight's hush. But tonight, something felt different.
The stillness wasn't peaceful. It was alert. As if the palace itself was holding its breath.
Selene woke in a cold sweat, her breath shallow. There was no sound. No nightmare she could remember. But her instincts screamed—danger.
She sat up slowly, her hands clutching her side, heart pounding like a drum inside a hollow chest. The room around her was too silent. The air too thick. It wrapped around her like smoke, suffocating and sweet.
She reached under her tattered skirt and found the thin blade. It was a small, curved dagger—rusted and worn from years of use, but still sharp.
Her eyes swept across the dungeon. The velvet curtains fluttered without breeze, shadows curled in the corners, and the torch had burned out earlier but smoke still lingered.
She rose quietly from the floor, bare feet meeting cold feeble stones. Every step was measured, every movement silent. Years of hiding in forests and caves had taught her how to move like mist.
Then, a soft sound.
A faint clatter, distant… like metal striking stone.
She moved toward the iron door, eyes darting from side to side.
Silence again.
But it was the wrong kind of silence, the kind that crackled under the surface. No guards outside. No passing footsteps. Not even the distant echo of maids working.
She pushed her head through the opening in the iron door
The corridor outside was shrouded in dim orange glow from torches flickering low. The flames swayed with uncertainty, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts.
She pushed the iron door, and to her surprise, it was open.
Selene stepped out, moving fast but careful.
Something was wrong. She could feel it.
She took the west hall, where a side stairwell led to the older, abandoned parts of the palace. She hadn't gone there before—it was supposedly sealed off. Too dangerous, they'd said. But she had to know what was going on.
Halfway down the hallway, she froze.
At the end of the corridor, near the shadows, something moved.
She hid behind a wall and squinted.
It was a man, crumpled on the ground. Motionless.
Selene rushed to him, crouching low.
He was a servant. Young, with soft hands and a cleaner's uniform.
His eyes were open.
Wide.
Frozen in an expression of absolute terror.
And yet, no wounds. No blood. Not even a mark. It was as if his heart had simply stopped. As if fear itself had taken his life.
Selene recoiled slightly, goosebumps trailing her skin.
Then, behind her, she felt it, an icy prickle at the base of her neck. That old, instinctive sensation. The feeling of being watched.
She turned slowly.
There, just a few paces behind, stood a figure cloaked in shadows.
Tall. Hooded. The lower part of their face masked in black. Only their eyes visible, glowing faintly beneath the hood with unnatural light.
Selene raised her blade.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared.
The air around them pulsed, thick with authority. Runes glimmered faintly across their gloved hand, runes she recognized. Ancient protection glyphs. Old magic. Forbidden magic.
The figure tilted their head slightly, almost curiously.
"I said, who are you?" she demanded again, voice louder, more forceful.
Still no answer.
Then, like smoke curling away from a flame, the figure stepped back into the shadows and vanished completely.
No footsteps. No movement. Just.. gone.
Selene stood frozen, adrenaline buzzing like lightning beneath her skin. She turned in slow circles, scanning the walls, the ceiling, everything.
Then she saw it.
On the wall where the figure had stood, there were..... Symbols.
Four glowing runes, etched in jagged script.
They shimmered faintly, as if carved by fire and cooled by moonlight.
And below them, a name.
Carved deep.
Marae.
Selene's breath caught.
That name, one she hadn't heard in years. Whispers from her childhood, stories her mother used to tell in low voices by candlelight. Tales of the first Moonbond. Of a girl born with the full blessing of the Moon Goddess and cursed for it.
Marae, the one who had vanished after the Great Betrayal.
The one whose bloodline was hunted to extinction.
Selene took a trembling step closer. She touched the name with her fingertips, and a pulse of cold ran through her arm. Not painful but familiar.
It was like the magic recognized her.
Her mind raced.
She had always felt different even among the Forsaken. Stronger. Sharper. Like something lived in her blood that didn't belong to anyone else.
Could it be…?
No. Impossible.
Or was it?
🔹🔹🔹
DEEP BENEATH THE PALACE
Kael paced the old stone corridor, torch in hand.
He had found the note under his door an hour ago.
Unfamiliar handwriting. One line:
"IF YOU WANT TO UNDERSTAND HER, FIND WHAT YOUR FATHER BURIED."
He had followed the cryptic message here, to the base of the old tower, a section of the palace sealed off since before he was born. His father had forbidden anyone from entering. Not even the Royal Guard dared patrol here.
He found the hidden chamber easily enough. The key had been waiting, already in the lock.
He hesitated before turning it.
The door opened with a groan of time and rust.
Inside, dust hung like a curtain. Shelves of books lined the walls. Parchments, artifacts, relics of old power.
But it was what lay on the pedestal in the center that stole Kael's breath.
A cracked crown, woven of pure moonstone.
Not gold.
Not iron.
Moonstone, the sacred gem of the Goddess. A symbol of ancient rulers, of the Moonbonded bloodline.
Beside it, a sealed scroll.
He broke the wax.
Unrolled the parchment.
A family tree.
Generations. Lines and branches. Names scratched out. Hidden.
But one name remained, uncrossed, at the very bottom.
Selene.
Kael stood there, the torch flickering in his trembling hand.
She wasn't just some rogue girl with strange magic.
She was something else.
Someone forgotten.
Someone erased.
And someone very powerful.
To be continued....