Page 232 of The Moonborn's Curse

Seren gave him a look.

He raised a hand in surrender, then softened. "This one's going to be my princess."

"Mm?"

"She'll look just like you. Another one with your silver eyes."

That made her smile—soft and tired and full of something ancient and tender.

"And your curls," she replied with a wistful sigh.

They walked slowly, steps falling in rhythm, listening to their son chatter to the others, his voice bright against the hush of the stars.

Behind them, the fire burned low, the Oracle sitting in silence, her eyes turned to the heavens.

And somewhere in the shadows beyond, the wind carried the laughter of destiny fulfilled.

Lia

The war had ended, but Vargrheim still bore its scars—some visible, some buried deep. Victory had come at a price, and among those who walked the stone halls, not everyone walked with triumph in their hearts.

Freya sat on the edge of the infirmary cot where Dain lay still, unconscious but healing. She held his hand as his future bonded.

Lia stood just outside in the corridor, where she couldn't be seen, but she had a direct view of Dain's pale face. Her eyes were hollow, her face drawn. The healers had come and gone, murmuring reassurances to Freya that she couldn't hear.

Garrik had talked to her after they returned from Starnheim.

"She's gone," he had told her gently, hours ago. "We couldn't find her body. She may have escaped."

Lia had gone very still at that.

"You're saying she's alive," she said finally.

He hesitated. "We don't know."

Lia didn't cry.

She only shook her head, a bitter soundless laugh escaping her.

"Of course," she whispered. "Of course, she'd live. Evil like my mother always does. She'll outlive us all."

And then she'd sat, quietly on the muddy floor, her expression closed off like a bricked wall. There was no relief. No hope. Just disappointment.

When she was alone again, Lia let her head fall into her hands.

She sat like that for a long time.

I am her shadow,she thought.I was never anything else.

She remembered the first time she’d used her voice to lie. She’d been six. Gaia had taught her how to smile with her eyes while twisting the truth with her tongue. Every kindness she’d shown had been a lesson in control. Every punishment, a shaping tool. Lia had been carved into a perfect vessel of silence and obedience. A mirror. A mask. Even with her mother gone, her control remained.

She’d done terrible things. Not because she wanted to—but because she had no choice. Because so much was at stake.

And now that the mask was shattered, all that was left underneath was something wasted. Rotten.

Dain had believed in her, and she’d repaid that belief with deceit. He’d looked at her like she mattered once. And she hadusedhim He had paid her back with his hatred.

The worst part was that she didn’t even know who she was without all that manipulation. Without someone else pulling her strings.

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