Page 105 of The Moonborn's Curse

And then Lia composed her expression, slow and graceful, pulling her sleeve back over her bare shoulder.

Something broke inside Seren. Not with a crack—but a shift. A click of truth falling into place.

She stepped forward—and something shifted in the room.

The air thickened. The ground felt as though it trembled, ever so slightly. The walls of the longhouse groaned as if reacting to a rising pressure. A low hum filled the silence, like a storm gathering behind her eyes.

She lifted her hand—and slapped Lia across the face with a sound that cracked like thunder.

Lia staggered, stunned.

Then snarled—and raised her hand to strike back.

Seren caught her wrist mid-air.

And everything changed.

The moment their skin touched, something lit behind Seren's eyes. A shimmer. A glow. A sudden widening of her pupils as if seeing something no one else could.

She dropped Lia's hand slowly. Took a step back.

Her voice was devoid of emotion.

"Well played, Enchantress."

Silence fell like a blade.

Lia went still, her face pale.

Seren continued in a voice not hers "Old magic never lies. You should've done your homework."

She looked at Hagan—not with hatred, but something far heavier.

"Tell him who you really are."

All eyes turned to Lia.

And this time, she had no mask to hide behind.

Lia straightened slowly, her cheek red from the slap, but this time there was no smugness. Her eyes darted around the room—toward Draken who had seen everything, toward Hagan, toward the Oracle who had just entered. Her lips trembled as she tried to compose herself, shoulders hunched as if expecting another blow.

"I— I don't know what you're talking about," she said, voice cracking despite her efforts to stay even. "This is... this is insane."

But her hands were shaking.

She took a small step back, bumping into the edge of the overturned chair. Her composure was slipping—cracking at the edges.

From the far side of the longhouse, Draken stepped forward.

His expression was filled with rage. The weight of the Highclaw's aura rolled out in slow, crushing waves. The floor beneath Lia creaked.

"Speak the truth," Draken commanded, his voice like stone against steel.

Lia flinched—her composure faltering. She tried to straighten, to hold his gaze, but her knees buckled. She fell to the wooden floor with a gasp, clutching her stomach.

"I—I—" Her voice cracked. "My mother. She is a witch of the enchantress caste. I don't even know who my father is."

Silence.

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