đ Chapter 4 â The Whisper and the Wound
The days after the ritual passed like dreams half-remembered.
Seren could no longer tell when night began or when it ended; the moonlight had taken root inside her, stirring even when she slept.
And always, there was Lucen.
He was never far â silent, unshakable, a presence that both steadied and unmade her.
Sometimes she'd find him in the war room, tracing runes on the table made of old wolf bone. Other times, in the woods, speaking in a tongue that made the shadows bend toward him.
When he looked at her, the world seemed to pause.
Tonight, he found her on the balcony again â the same place where she'd made her vow.
The air was cold, sharp with the scent of snow. Her reflection in the glass shimmered â a woman she barely recognized: silver-eyed, haunted, unbroken.
"Your heart is quieter now," Lucen said softly behind her. "The pain is settling."
Seren didn't turn. "It's not settling. It's sharpening."
Lucen's voice carried a smile. "Good."
She finally looked at him. "Why does that please you?"
"Because broken things bend to their sorrow. Sharpened things cut with it."
His words slipped through her like a blade â and yet⊠there was truth.
Her grief wasn't hollow anymore. It was direction. Focus.
Still, she hated how much his approval mattered.
How his voice could drown out the echo of Caelan's.
"You speak as though you know what I've lost," she said.
Lucen's gaze flicked toward the moon. "I know what it means to outlive what you love."
Something flickered in his eyes â a wound, ancient and quiet. For the first time, Seren wondered if the shadow had once loved the light.
She stepped closer. "Then you know what it's like to want to unmake the world that took it."
Lucen's breath caught â barely, but enough.
"Be careful, Luna," he murmured. "The world listens when you say such things now."
As if summoned, the wind stilled. The trees leaned in.
Seren felt it â a pulse beneath her feet, faint but real, responding to her anger like the ground itself remembered her pain.
Her heartbeat quickened. The air shimmered faintly around her fingertips. Tiny trails of silver mist danced from her nails, fading as quickly as they came.
Lucen watched â eyes unreadable.
> "There it is," he whispered. "The first echo."
Seren stared at her hand. "I didn't mean toâ"
He stepped close, his presence brushing against her skin like frost and heat all at once.
"You did. You always mean to," Lucen said. "You're just not ready to admit it."
For a heartbeat, their power tangled â the air around them alive, shimmering, trembling between creation and destruction.
Then Seren broke the moment, stepping back. "I don't want your approval, Lucen."
His expression softened, just a little. "You don't need it, Seren. But you crave understanding. That's far more dangerous."
She didn't answer â because he was right.
As he disappeared into the mist, his parting words linger