Page 79 of Of Shadow and Moon

She closes her eyes, her voice soft as she recites the words:

“Bornof both the light and dark,

A soul that mends what’s torn apart.

When fire burns and rivers cry,

The bringer ofpeace shall rise.”

The words senda shiver down my spine, their meaning as vague as they are haunting. “You think it’s connected?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nasarea opens her eyes, meeting my gaze. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But it feels… important.” She shrugs.

We sit in silence for a moment. For the first time, I feel like I’m not carrying it all alone. And yet, a traitor part of me still wonders if trusting Nasarea is a mistake I’ll regret.

Chapter 46

Selestina

The combat field glistens under the weak sunlight, the dew on the grass clinging to my boots as I take my place opposite Nasarea. Students circle the practice area, some stretching, others murmuring with half-hearted attention as Professor Karr begins his instruction. I’m not listening. My focus is split, scattered, weighed down by the growing unease I’ve carried since overhearing the kings.

The prophecy.

The Shadow Reaper.

My murder.

The shadows.

Rhyker.

Tomas.

Matheus.

Nazriel.

Kaelion.

Me.

Even Etzli.

Even with all the chaos unraveling aroundme, there’s a nagging sense that it’s all too good to be true. It’s like standing in the eye of a storm, knowing the winds will come crashing back any second. I’m holding my breath, waiting for the inevitable, because when the other shoe drops, and I know it will, it’s going to shatter me.

And this time, I won’t survive it.

Nasarea glances at me, her eyes narrowing slightly, a silent question. I give her a curt nod, letting her know I’m ready, or as ready as I’ll ever be. The familiarity of combat practice is a welcome distraction, the routine of it soothing in its own way. The weight of my daggers at my hips brings me comfort.

Professor Karr steps back, signaling for the sparring to begin. Nasarea moves first, her blade slicing through the air with precision. I block easily, the clang of our weapons ringing out like a sharp symphony.

“You’re distracted,” Nasarea mutters, lunging again. Her blade grazes my arm—not deep, but enough to sting.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” I reply, forcing a smirk, though my mind is anything but present.

The match intensifies, the rhythm of our movements becoming faster, more erratic. Sweat beads on my brow as I push back against her relentless attacks, each strike pulling me further from my thoughts and into the moment. Until it happens.

Nasarea’s blade arcs toward me, faster than expected, and I dodge, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. My hand instinctively reaches out, grazing the cool, damp earth for balance. That’s when I feel it—a pull, a strange vibration under my palm, like the hum of magic.

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