The streets of the city were eerily silent as Aren and Lyra made their way through the twisting alleys. The ash still fell like gray snow, coating the rooftops and streets in a dull, oppressive light. Each step he took echoed like a drumbeat in the empty corridors, reminding him that he was still very much alive—and that was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.
Lyra kept close, her cloak brushing against his side. "Are you… sure you know what you're doing?" she asked quietly.
Aren smirked, his eyes scanning every shadow. "Of course. I have no idea what I'm doing. That's what makes it so thrilling."
She didn't answer, only glanced at him with suspicion. Something about him radiated danger, yet not the kind you could measure with a blade or a spell. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Ahead, a massive gate appeared, wrought iron twisting into shapes of moonlight and silver. A faint glow emanated from within the compound. The Moonlight Sect. Aren's lips curved into a crooked grin.
"Well," he muttered, "this is either a welcoming committee or a very fancy trap. Either way… let's see how bad it can get."
Lyra handed him a small token, a crescent-shaped pendant carved from jade. "It's… for identification. Everyone who enters the main grounds carries one. Don't lose it."
Aren rolled his eyes. "Oh, marvelous. A charm for safety. What's next? A pamphlet on how not to be assassinated?"
The gatekeeper, a tall man clad in flowing silver robes, approached without a word. He did not raise a hand or speak a greeting. Instead, his eyes fixed on Aren as if weighing the essence of his soul. Aren felt the air thicken around him, a subtle pressure that made his spine tingle.
Lyra leaned slightly toward him. "They can sense strength… and danger. Be careful."
Aren's grin widened. "Danger? You mean like me?"
The gatekeeper's lips moved, and the words echoed in his mind rather than in sound. "You… are not expected."
Aren tilted his head. "Not expected? Well, I wasn't invited by choice, either."
The man's eyes narrowed. There was a faint flicker of shock—surprise that someone dared to speak back to the Moonlight Sect without trembling. Aren couldn't help but feel a tiny thrill at that.
"Step forward," the gatekeeper finally said aloud. His voice was calm, almost bored, yet it carried an authority that silenced the faint wind.
Aren moved, his steps deliberate. Lyra followed, her hands gripping the edges of her cloak. As they passed beneath the moon-shaped arch, the compound opened up into a vast courtyard. Lanterns floated midair, casting cold, silver light over the marble floors. Shadows danced across statues of past sect leaders, their faces frozen in solemn expressions.
A group of figures awaited them. Silver-robed members of the sect, each carrying different weapons and artifacts, watched Aren with cautious curiosity. One stepped forward, a tall woman with piercing blue eyes. Her hair was white as the ash falling outside, and her aura radiated authority.
"You are Aren Vale," she stated, as if reading a ledger.
"I am," Aren said with casual defiance. "Although it seems the world disagrees."
A faint smile touched her lips, almost imperceptible. "You are… bold, for one without a Fate Sigil. And yet, you stand here."
Aren snorted softly. "Bold? Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm just incredibly lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you see it."
Lyra stepped slightly forward. "He… he's been through a lot. Please… do not underestimate him."
The woman's gaze shifted to Lyra, then back to Aren. "Hmph. Your companion is wise… for one so young."
"Wise?" Aren murmured under his breath. "Or just desperate to survive."
A sudden gust of wind blew through the courtyard, carrying ash and the faint scent of incense. The Moonlight Sect members tensed, sensing the energy within him. Aren could feel it too—a subtle stirring, a whisper from the Crown beneath his chest. His strength was dormant, but not gone
The woman raised her hand. "We will demonstrate the abilities of the Moonlight Sect. If you survive… you may leave."
Aren tilted his head. "Survive? That's… encouraging."
She gave a curt nod. "Prepare yourselves."
Suddenly, figures emerged from the shadows. They were sect members, moving in perfect unison. Aren's eyes narrowed. Each carried weapons unlike any he had seen: silver chains, blades etched with runes, and gauntlets that glowed faintly.
Lyra's eyes widened. "A-Aren… be careful."
Aren smirked, feeling the stir of his dormant power beneath his chest. "Careful? Me? Never."
The demonstration began. Blades flashed, chains whirled, and energy crackled in the air. Aren dodged and weaved, feeling the first true challenge since the Crown had awakened. Each movement made him aware of his own potential, the silent pulse of power building with every narrowly avoided strike.
A small mistake by one sect member caused a chain to swing wildly. Aren caught it with a single hand, flicking it aside. The members gasped.
The woman with white hair tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her features. "Interesting… he is stronger than he appears."
Aren grinned, feeling the thrill of being misjudged. "Of course. I always like surprises."
Lyra's hand brushed against his arm. "Don't… push yourself too far," she whispered.
"Relax," he said with a sly grin. "I only break when I have to… or when it's fun."
And as the ash fell silently around them, the first true battle within the Moonlight Sect began.
Above, in the shadows of the rooftops, the crimson-eyed observer made a small note. The Nullborn's awakening had begun, and the world would soon take notice.
(End of Chapter Three)