Page 69 of Of Shadow and Moon

“Selestina.” She breathes, the single word laced with anger and betrayal.

I barely manage to stay upright, the pain flooding me as I lean against the doorframe, meeting her gaze. “Nasarea… I know what this looks like, but I need you to listen.”

“Listen?” Her voice is a razor, cutting through the haze in my mind. “You… you’re the Shadow Reaper? You… all this time?” Her hands clench at her sides, trembling, and I see the betrayal in her eyes. “Do you know what this means? Do you know what?—”

“Nasarea, please.” I can barely get the words out, my voice hoarse, my chest heaving with the effort. I am only a whisper away from death. Blood is already pooling at my feet. “I need you to look at my memories.”

She takes a step back, her face twisted in anger and confusion. “What?”

“To prove to you that I didn’t kill her.” I’m nearly pleading now, my vision blurring as the exhaustion pulls at me, dragging me under. “Yes, I am the Shadow Reaper, but I swear to you, I didn’t… I didn’t do what you think I did.”

Nasarea’s jaw tightens, her gaze sharp and unforgiving. “And I’m supposed to just believe that? After all this?”

“No,” I say, feeling the strength slip from my voice, from my legs. “I want you to see it for yourself. I know it will hurt, just… please, do it.”

For a moment, she hesitates, her eyes narrowing as she looks at me, her suspicion warring with something almost vulnerable.

Then without another word, she steps forward, placing her hands on either side of my head, her fingers cold against my temples.

Her touch is light at first, but then it sharpens,the pressure increasing, and I feel her power unfurl around me, wrapping itself around my mind like a net.

The pain hits me like a wave, crashing over me with a force that leaves me breathless. It’s a raw. Flashes of my life, flicker before me. Training sessions, harsh words, faces I’d rather forget, missions where blood stained my hands, the weight of every soul taken.

I grit my teeth, the pain unbearable, every fiber of my being screaming in protest, but I force myself to stay still, to let her in.

The moments unfold, one after another, the years peeling back, layer by layer, until I’m bare before her, every scar, every wound, every regret exposed.

And then, finally, she pulls back, her hands dropping from my head as she stumbles backward, her eyes wide, her face pale. I can barely see her, my vision fading in and out, but I catch the glisten of tears in her eyes, the anguish written across her face as she takes in what she’s seen.

“Oh, Selestina…” Her voice is choked, her hands covering her mouth, and I realize with a strange, hollow ache that she’s seen everything. All the beatings, the pain, the endless missions, every dark corner of my life laid bare before her.

I shouldn’t have let her see. But I can’t die. Not again. Not right now.

But before I can say anything, before I can even draw a full breath, her expression shifts, a new fire blazing in her eyes. “Wait… you… you fucked my brother?” Her face pales and she looks like she is going to vomit.

I stare at her, stunned, and then, despite the pain, despite the heaviness in my limbs, a laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, a strange, delirious sound that feels like both relief and release.

I see her expression shift from rage to disbelief, her mouth twisting as she realizes I’m laughing, and the last thing I feel before the darkness takes me is her promising revenge for making her see that.

Then everything fades, the world slips away as I sink into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness.

Chapter 39

Selestina

I’m wrapped in warmth, the scent of herbs and smoke surrounding me, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

I blink, trying to piece together where I am, letting the memories unfurl. Nasarea's face, her furious gaze, and then the soft, unexpected touch of her hands as she dragged me from the brink of darkness.

The room swims into focus, dim and quiet.

The light of a small fire sends shadows dancing along the walls. Nasarea sits beside me, her face unreadable, her hands steady as she cleans my wounds, her touch is gentle as she works, which contrasts with the feral look in her eyes earlier.

She knows it all now. All of it—the blood, the missions, the unforgivable things I’ve done under the guise of the Shadow Reaper.

There are no walls left, no hidden truths.

I shift slightly, wincing as pain flares through my side, and she glances at me, her expression softening just a fraction. “You’re awake,” she murmurs, her voice low, careful,as if afraid to shatter the fragile calm that has settled over us.

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