Even the eternal grow restless. Atrox turned inward, carving the dark into chaos, while she turned toward warmth—the mortal flame that could die, and therefore mean something. To walk beside the man she loved, she broke herself apart, scattering her divinity into the daughters who would tend the realms she left behind. Eryndis, the truest of them, carried her mother’s sight—the gift of knowing what was meant to end and what must endure.
Lysara continued. “Villages woke to find their candles melted and their hearths cold, yet no one had entered their homes. Children dreamed of forests they had never seen. And sometimes, on the edges of the fields, a figure was said to stand watching—theNightmother herself wrapped in a cloak of stars, her face hidden beneath a veil of smoke and moonlight.
She never spoke. Not with words.
Only with dreams.
And if you listened, truly listened, you might hear her voice in the rustle of branches or the flicker of candlelight. A warning. A promise. For the Nightmother sees all that is buried and forgotten. She remembers the names you try to erase. She watches the truths you fear to speak.
And when the world forgets balance again, she will rise in silence.
To remind.
To reclaim.
To restore.”
Lysara paused, letting the fire crackle into the quiet hush.
“Keep your enemies close in the twilight,” she said, voice like a lullaby spun from old magic, “so that when the sun sets, you may greet them with eternal night.”
Small shoulders brushed together, their gazes fixed and unblinking.
One small voice whispered, “Was she real?”
Lysara smiled faintly. “Real enough that you feel her even now, don’t you?”
Another child spoke up, braver. “But she didn’t hurt anyone?”
“She doesn’t have to,” Lysara replied. “Truth is not a blade—it’s a mirror. But some people still bleed when they see themselves in it.”
She closed the storybook and rose slowly. “Remember, little ones—night is not your enemy. It is where secrets sleep, where dreams begin, and where the brave learn to listen.”
“Off to bed, now,” she said, ushering them toward the narrow hall that led to their cots.
As they scattered with giggles and yawns, I stood, following Lysara toward the staircase. We moved quietly, our footsteps echoing in companionable silence.
“I have someone I’d like you to stay close to. You’ve met her already,” I said as we climbed. Lysara paused on the steps. “What? You think I didn’t know you and Seraphine snuck in to see her? Aurelia Moirae. I’ve reassigned you as her Keeper.”
She arched a brow, already suspicious. “But I’m already assigned to Prince Kaelith’s female companions.”
“Acantha will take over. I told Kaelith it was time for a fresh face—said you’d grown too close to the others.”
Lysara stopped on the stair, pale eyes narrowing. “You manipulative bastard.”
“I need you with this woman,” I said, more serious now. “She’s different. You’ll see.”
Her irritation sparked, then faded. We’d known each other too long for her to hold it. “This better be interesting,” she muttered, though I caught the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement.
We ascended to the upper floors, but something pulled at me. A whisper through the shadows, soft and insistent. I closed my eyes, extending my senses through the dark veins of the castle. Threads of shadow twisted and coiled, leading me.
I turned toward the corridor. “They’re in the library.”
Lysara paused at the entrance of the library, fingers gliding over the carved moonflowers and creeping vines etched into the arched stone. She murmured a prayer.“Between the dusk and breath of day, let veiled threads of fate obey. May doors unopened start to sing, and shadows curl beneath your wing.”A verse long forsaken by those who once honored Eryndis.
I stepped through the door first, finding Aurelia and Santiago wandering among the shelves. Aurelia’s hand paused at the spine of a thick tome, its binding an ombre of black, deep sapphire,ochre gold, and a final bloom of crimson at the base. She seemed drawn to it, fingers brushing it reverently.
“That one hasn’t been read since before Kaelith was born,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. She flinched, startled, then turned with a scowl.