The capital smelled of stone and incense and the faint tang of metal—money changing hands, talismans being hawked by sharp-eyed salesmen. I rode into Moonguard wrapped in borrowed linen, my face half-hidden beneath the folds, my heart a drum against the hollow of my ribs. I had thought a city would hide me. Instead, it magnified me.
Banners snapped above the streets, each one a silent herald of power. Watchful faces lined the balconies and windows, eyes flicking over travelers, merchants, and beggars alike. And the Moon Council's marble loomed ahead like a mouth waiting to speak—silent, cold, judging. I felt smaller than I had ever felt in Hearthstone, yet somehow the spark from the night on the bridge still throbbed in my chest.
When they asked my parentage, the question was a blade. I lied. I said the name of a family that would never claim me, the name that sounded noble but felt hollow on my tongue. And in that instant, moonlight sliced through the lie. My mark—silent for months, hidden under careful hands—flared bright silver and crimson in the assembled crowd.
The music stopped. Mouths opened like wounds. Whispers ricocheted against the marble like stones dropped in water. The council members' eyes, sharp and unyielding, flicked toward me with suspicion, curiosity, and—somewhere between them—a faint trace of fear. I could feel their thoughts brushing against my skin, probing, wondering.
I heard him before I saw him. Kael. His presence settled over me like a storm contained in trousers, the quiet danger in the angle of his shoulders, the slow precision of his gaze. He moved through the crowd with a calm authority that made my chest tighten. Dangerous. Calculated. I couldn't look away. He paused only for a moment, letting his gaze find me again, and I knew he had noticed more than my mark, more than the lie I'd spoken. He had seen the pulse of it—something alive, something I couldn't yet name.
Auren. From across the crowd, his gaze snagged me. For a heartbeat, I was eleven again, standing in a meadow with nothing belonging to destiny. The past whispered its lullabies, and the city's grandeur—its banners, its marble, its silver-shimmering moonlight—was replaced by memory. I felt humiliated, isolated, and achingly small, yet there was a tenderness in that recall, a fleeting warmth that reminded me I had once believed in worlds bigger than this one.
The twin lights of the moon shimmered across the marble—silver and crimson, uneasy and shifting, as if the stones themselves were alive and judging me. I tried to focus on the ceremony: the rhythm of drums and chants threading through the hall. But my mind clung to the mark, the way it had flared, the quiet hum of power beneath my skin. What does it mean? I wondered, and a pang of fear twisted in my stomach. Could I control it? Could I hide it again if needed?
Minor council members whispered in clusters, gesturing subtly, their jeweled rings catching the light. A merchant with a silver tray of talismans brushed past me, offering charms of protection with practiced smiles. I barely saw them. My eyes were drawn to the marble, to the way the silver shimmered over the crimson streaks, and to Kael's unreadable expression. Everything felt magnified—the sense of scrutiny, of expectation, of being on display.
I felt the weight of every eye in the room, pressing down like stone. And yet beneath the pressure, the spark from Hearthstone—the one that told me I was not small—stirred, steady and insistent. I clutched it inward, like a secret jewel hidden in the folds of my linen. I could feel it in my pulse, in the way my fingers tingled, and in the strange warmth that spread from my chest to my limbs.
Auren's eyes never left me. I wanted to run to him, to hide in that memory of childhood warmth, but something larger tugged at me. The ceremony pressed on, the Moon Council's chants rising and falling like waves, and I felt the hum of destiny brushing close. Not destiny as a chain, not as a weight, but as a possibility.
I sank onto the edge of the ceremonial dais for a brief moment, letting the marble beneath me anchor my thoughts. Humiliation, isolation… longing, I thought. And yet, something else. Something I am meant to see. The drums and chants faded into the background, and for a fraction of a second, I could hear the city itself—the whisper of stone corridors, the shuffle of feet, the faint hum of the river far below. Life continued all around me, indifferent, yet impossible to ignore.
Kael's gaze flicked once more. Controlled. Dangerous. And somewhere in that glance, I sensed a challenge—or perhaps a warning. My mark throbbed faintly, and I realized with a strange clarity: this was only the beginning. The city, the ceremony, even the council—they were all testing me in ways I did not yet understand.
And through it all, Auren's gaze remained, a tether to the boy I once was, to the world before lies and power had become inevitable. I could not reach back. I could only step forward, feeling the twin lights of the moon shimmer over silver and crimson marble, and whispering quietly to myself: I am not small.