Page 146 of The Moonborn's Curse

Dain seemed to hesitate before asking. "You ever think of moving on?"

Hagan shook his head vehemently.

"As long as it hurts... she hasn't moved on either. Not fully. And if there's even a sliver of her still tied to me... I'll wait. And once I have a hint of where she is, I am gone."

Veyr made a sound that might've been approval. Or gas. You could never tell with Veyr.

Dain exhaled hard and looked away.

"You're an idiot," he muttered.

"Probably."

"Definitely."

And they drank in silence, both of them bleeding differently.

Chapter 54

Seren

Six months had passed.

Six months of sweat, spilt drinks, sticky tabletops, and whispered secrets behind the bar. Seren had gone from the newbie to an old hand at The Hollow Moon, blending into its rhythm as if she'd always been meant to be.

Her style had shifted.

Not drastically—her long hair still fell down her back like a curtain of midnight. But the rest? She'd learned to dress like she wasn't apologizing for herself. A little skin. A little sass.

She'd bought the boots with her first real paycheck—her money.

They were matte black leather with thick soles that added an inch and a half to her height. Laced up to mid-calf with silver hooks and tiny spelled charms she'd secretly tied into the eyelets—one for strength, one for clarity. They clicked sharply against the pavement, a rhythmic reminder that she no longer walked like someone trying to blend in.

And the shorts?

They were ridiculous.

Tiny, high-waisted, with frayed edges and bronze buttons that gleamed like mischief. Worn with sheer black tights or bare-legged depending on her mood, they hugged her hips like a challenge to the world. She liked pairing them with oversized jumpers, crop tops, or the occasional sheer shirt that left just enough to the imagination.

Sometimes, she caught herself in a mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back.

And that felt good.

Talis, ever the quiet support, had suggested something that changed everything.

"Let's make your website paid," he'd said over morning coffee. "They want your photos? Make them pay. People don't value what you give away for free."

Didn't she know it!

With a few lines of code and his tech wizardry, he did it.

The money trickled in first. Then streamed. Wildlife journals. Indie book covers. Even a nature conservancy had licensed a series of her images of wolves mid-howl and misty forest glades.

For the first time in months, she didn't just feel like she was surviving. She was building something.

It was late when they began stacking chairs and collecting the last of the glasses at The Hollow Moon.

Rhea and Griff had disappeared somewhere near the end of the shift, and based on the muffled thuds and rhythmic creaking echoing faintly through the walls, none of them wanted to speculate or investigate.

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