Master Aldric’s hands trembled for the first time in forty years.
The Silverthorn Leaf dissolved into the base potion like moonlight bleeding through amber liquid until the entire vial glowed with pale, ethereal light. Whoever had tampered with his supplies had replaced the moonflower extract with water. Without a proper stabilizer, the potion could curdle or turn toxic. He’d improvised with powdered pearl and lunar dew from his emergency stores, but it was a gamble.
He lifted Nyra’s head and tipped the vial to her lips.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then her chest rose. Fell. Rose again. The convulsions eased. The blue tinge faded from her lips. The bleeding stopped.
Aldric let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The corridor had become a vigil. Soren sat on a stone bench, his wounded shoulder freshly bandaged. Corvin leaned against the opposite wall. Ragnar stood beside Soren. Finn, Marek, and Jasper huddled together on the floor. Even the Proctor had remained.
All eyes turned as the healer emerged.
"The antidote has been successfully administered," Aldric announced.
Finn let out a sob of relief. Marek gripped his shoulder. Jasper closed his eyes.
"How long until he wakes?" the Proctor demanded.
"I don’t know. His body has been through tremendous trauma. The antidote has halted the damage, but recovery is up to him."
Soren rose. "Can I see him?"
Corvin pushed off the wall. "Can’t you wait until he wakes? The prince needs rest, not your hovering."
"Eldritch."
"Thornridge."
The healer raised a hand. "Neither of you will see him until he wakes. He needs absolute quiet. Those are my orders."
Soren nodded. "Understood."
"Understood," Corvin echoed, though his eyes still glittered with challenge.
In the darkness behind her closed eyes, Nyra stood in a field of stars.
The grass beneath her bare feet was silver. The sky above was the void between worlds, studded with moons in every phase. The air hummed with a vibration that seemed to come from inside her bones.
"Daughter."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. The darkness before her coalesced into shape not a woman, but the idea of one, vast and ancient. Silver hair flowed around it like water. Eyes like twin moons regarded her with infinite tenderness.
"Daughter of the Moon. You are not done yet."
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am. You have felt me your whole life. In the stillness between heartbeats. In the silver light of the full moon when you wept for a life you thought you would never have."
The light grew brighter. It felt like coming home.
"I don’t understand. Why now?"
"Because the poison has burned away the barriers that kept your power sealed. The seal placed on you at birth to keep you hidden, keep you safe, keep you weak is breaking."
"My seal?"
"Your father knew what the old magic did to women in your kingdom. Hunted. Burned. Erased. So he asked the court mage to seal your power away. He loved you enough to make you ordinary, even when you were never meant to be ordinary."
Nyra’s chest tightened. "My father knew?"
"Your brother’s death was not the end of your path. It was the beginning. You are the last vessel of the old magic. The last daughter of the Sacred Moonblood. The world needs what you will become."
"But I’m not strong enough. I’m the Ghost of the Weak. I can’t shift. I can’t heal. I can barely throw a proper punch."
A sound like laughter rippled through the stars. "You think strength is only claws and fangs? The Moonblood magic is older than the wolves. Older than the empire. It is the power to heal without shifting. To fight without claws. To command the light of the night sky itself."
Nyra stared at her hands. They glowed faintly, silver light pulsing beneath her skin. "I don’t know how."
"You will learn. When you wake, you will not be the same woman who fell."
The Goddess stepped closer, her touch like moonlight on Nyra’s cheek. "You are loved, Nyra Astrlyn. Even when you cannot feel it."
"Loved? No one loves me. No one even knows who I am."
"Two know. One is in the darkness of the forest, risking everything to save you. The other follows close behind. The wolf and the serpent. Bound to you by fate."
"Two?"
"Wake, daughter. Wake and claim what is yours. They have fought for you."
The light flared. The darkness shattered.
Nyra opened her eyes.
Moonlight streamed through the high windows of the healer’s chamber. The cot beneath her was soaked with sweat. The room was silent, empty but she was alive.
She lifted her hand and turned it over. The silver light was still there, pulsing faintly beneath her skin. She could feel the power. Sleeping. Waiting.
"Soren." His name came out as a reflex, the first word her lips remembered.
A young assistant glanced through the door’s small window and froze. The prince was sitting up. The prince was awake.
"Master Aldric! The prince is awake!"
Soren was on his feet before his mind caught up. He had been sitting on that stone bench for nearly two days, refusing to leave, refusing to sleep, refusing every order from every authority figure. His shoulder ached. His wolf had been pacing inside his skull for so long he’d forgotten what silence felt like.
None of it mattered now.
He breathed out. A long, slow exhale. And then, for the first time in longer than he could remember, Soren smiled just the corner of his mouth lifting, just a crack in the ice.
Ragnar saw it. "Well, I’ll be damned."
Corvin pushed past them. "Is he really awake?"
"Awake," Finn repeated, his voice breaking. He was already crying again, but this time the tears weren’t grief. "Thorne’s awake."
Master Aldric emerged, his face tired but triumphant. "The prince is conscious. Weak, but conscious." He raised a hand before anyone could surge forward. "He’s asking for someone."
"Who?" Corvin demanded.
The healer’s eyes found Soren. "He keeps saying your name. Thornridge. Over and over."
Corvin’s expression flickered something dark, something jealous but he masked it quickly. "Of course he is."
Soren didn’t wait for permission. He pushed open the door.
Nyra was sitting up in the cot, pale as moonlight, her silver hair disheveled, her eyes tired but open. Alive.
Their eyes met.
"You’re awake," he said.
"You came," she said.
The silence between them was full of things neither knew how to say.
"Of course I came. You’re my student. My responsibility."
"Is that all I am?"
He didn’t answer. But his eyes said everything his mouth wouldn’t.
Behind him in the doorway, Corvin watched. His jaw was tight. His hands were clenched at his sides. And in his chest, something dangerous was taking root.
He doesn’t get to have you, Corvin thought, staring at Soren’s back. Not without a fight.