The morning of their departure dawned pale and restless. The castle seemed to mourn their leaving; its spires were draped in mist, and the air carried a strange heaviness — as though the stones themselves feared what was coming. Ella stood in the courtyard, her cloak whipping around her as the wind howled across the banners.
Beside her, Maeve tightened the strap of her satchel, filled with maps and vials of glowing powder. Arcturus adjusted his staff, tracing runes along its shaft that shimmered faintly with blue light. He looked older than before — not in years, but in spirit.
"The road beyond the Vale is treacherous," he said, his deep voice steady. "Few who journey there return. Are you certain this is what you want, Ella?"
Ella looked past him, to the mountains that loomed like sleeping giants in the distance. She could almost feel their pull — ancient, magnetic, whispering secrets only she could hear.
"I have to go," she said softly. "The Heart of the Realm is the only way to stop this. Cian said the light still sleeps there."
Maeve smirked, though her eyes betrayed worry. "Then let's wake it before the darkness does."
---
They left the castle before dawn, crossing the dew-drenched meadows that stretched toward the wildlands. The air smelled of pine and cold water, and the path wound between forests where the trees grew so tall they swallowed the sky.
As they walked, Ella's thoughts wandered to the ghost of Cian Thorne. His words haunted her: "The darkness was born from us." What did that mean? Was the corruption in her bloodline something she could truly fight — or was it part of her?
The sound of running water broke her thoughts. They reached a narrow river cutting through the valley. Arcturus knelt and dipped his hand into it, murmuring softly. The water rippled, glowing faintly as if listening.
"This river remembers," he said. "Every drop has seen centuries pass. The land itself carries memory, Ella. When you reach the citadel, it may test you — not with strength, but with truth."
Maeve chuckled lightly. "Oh, wonderful. I've always wanted to drown in someone else's memory."
Ella smiled faintly, but the unease lingered.
---
By midday, they reached the edge of the Whispering Woods — a place few dared to enter. Legend said the forest was alive, that the trees whispered names of those who strayed too far from the path.
As they stepped beneath the canopy, the air changed — thicker, cooler, heavy with the scent of moss and decay. Shafts of sunlight pierced the branches like golden spears, but even the light seemed wary of lingering.
Maeve unsheathed a dagger that shimmered faintly with enchantment. "If the trees start talking, I'm not answering."
Arcturus didn't respond. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, wary.
After what felt like hours, they came upon a clearing where the ground was littered with broken statues — angels, warriors, and beasts, all half-buried and cracked with age.
Ella stepped closer, brushing moss from one of the figures. Its face was eerily familiar — eyes sharp, mouth set in determination.
"It's you," Maeve whispered.
The statue was of a young woman — cloaked, regal, holding a staff crowned with flame.
Arcturus inhaled sharply. "The last guardian of light… before the fall. These statues were built to honor her."
"But how can that be?" Ella asked. "She looks exactly like me."
"Because she was you," Arcturus said softly. "Or rather — your soul reborn. The Thorne bloodline carries memory in its very essence. Each generation bears the echo of the last."
The realization hit Ella like thunder. Her visions, her instincts, her magic — they weren't random. They were memories of lives long past.
Before she could speak, a gust of wind tore through the clearing. The statues groaned, cracking open as something dark leaked from within — black mist, thick and alive.
Maeve raised her dagger. "Oh no. Not again."
The mist solidified into shadowy forms — hollow eyes, elongated limbs, twisted echoes of the statues they'd once been.
"Keep them away from Ella!" Arcturus shouted. His staff flared, sending arcs of light across the ground.
Ella's pulse raced. She raised her hands, channeling her magic, but the darkness absorbed it like water into sand. One of the shadow-creatures lunged, knocking her backward into the dirt.
"Ella!" Maeve cried, slashing through another creature. Its body dissolved into smoke, but more rose in its place.
Then, faintly, beneath the chaos — Ella heard it.
A sound.
A melody.
The same song Cian had played on the piano — the Song of the Moon.
It echoed through her mind like a heartbeat, steady and calm. She closed her eyes, letting it guide her. The shadows paused, as if listening too.
Ella rose slowly, light building in her palms. The melody grew louder — not from outside, but within her. The moonlight above pierced the canopy, washing the clearing in silver.
When she spoke, her voice wasn't her own — it was layered with countless others, echoes of her past lives.
> "Return to the light that birthed you."
The shadows screamed as they burned away in a wave of white fire. The statues cracked, their eyes glowing before crumbling into dust.
When it was over, silence returned. The forest held its breath once more.
Maeve stared at Ella, awe and fear mingling in her gaze. "Okay… that was new."
Arcturus approached cautiously. "You spoke in the tongue of the ancients. The song answered you."
Ella swayed, dizzy from the power. "It wasn't me," she whispered. "It was them. All of them — the guardians before me. They were singing through me."
---
That night, they camped at the edge of the forest. The moon hung low, and its reflection shimmered on the river nearby.
Ella sat alone, the melody still faintly echoing in her mind. She felt both comforted and terrified.
Maeve joined her, tossing her a piece of bread. "You looked like a goddess back there," she said. "Remind me never to make you angry."
Ella smiled weakly. "I didn't mean to. It just… happened."
Maeve's tone softened. "Maybe that's what it means to be chosen. You don't ask for it — it just finds you."
Arcturus joined them, his expression unreadable. "The song has awakened something ancient," he said. "But remember, power always draws its opposite. If the light stirs, so too does the darkness."
Ella looked toward the mountains, their peaks glowing faintly under the moon. "Then we'll face it," she said. "All of it."
In the distance, a wolf howled — long, mournful, echoing through the valley like a warning.
And far away, deep in the ruins of the citadel, something opened its eyes for the first time in centuries.