The moon shrine

Isabella’s POV

Trenton’s glowing eyes locked onto mine.

The violet light pulsed, wild and unnatural, like it didn’t belong in his body—and yet, it did. I could see it in the tight set of his jaw, in the way his fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from something deeper. Something buried.

For a while, neither  of us spoke.

The words burned into the ground between us glowed faintly, still warm.

‘The faeborn walks among you.’

Everything we’d feared, everything the fae had warned, now stared me in the face. Not Rowan. Not Darcy. Not Oliver.

But Trenton.

And the worst part? It didn’t make me afraid of him. It made me afraid for him.

He turned away before I could speak, disappearing into the trees like a shadow dissolving into the night. It almost felt like he was monitoring me. 

The next morning was silent.

Not the peaceful kind of silence. The tense, don’t breathe too loud or someone will explode kind of silent.

Darcy made breakfast, barely touching it. Oliver paced like he was waiting for something—anything—to break the quiet.

Trenton didn’t show up, not until noo.

He walked in with leaves in his hair and dirt on his clothes, like he hadn’t slept. His eyes weren’t glowing anymore, but there was something new behind them.

It was distant, his eyes felt distant.

He barely looked at me as he spoke.

“We need to move Rowan away now..”

Oliver stood. “Are you sure he’ll survive it?”

“He won’t survive staying here,” Trenton said bluntly. “We have to get him to the real Moon Shrine. The first one was only a gate.”

Darcy and I exchanged a glance. “Another shrine?” I asked.

Trenton finally met my eyes. “The original shrine, the one that’s the source. Buried deep in the Northern Ridge. It’s the only place strong enough to heal him freely.”

I swallowed hard. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Trenton nodded, then walked past me like I was just another piece of the mission and not a part of us.

Then we picked up a few things and  moved quickly. Darcy carried Rowan in his arms like he weighed nothing. I stayed close behind, watching Rowan’s pale face, his skin like paper stretched too thin over bone. His breaths were shallow, uneven. The poison had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped.

And I could feel him slipping.

Every hour, the bond between us pulsed weaker.

Every step, I wondered if I was too late.

The brothers walked ahead—Trenton leading, Oliver beside him, both quiet, both heavy with things they weren’t saying.

I noticed how Oliver kept glancing at Trenton, his eyes searching for something. Answers, maybe. Or signs of the brother he used to know.

Darcy walked beside me, his shoulder brushing mine more often than not.

“We’re all falling apart,” I whispered to him, not even sure he’d answer.

“We’ve been falling apart,” he murmured. “We just didn’t notice until you came along.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “That sounds like I’m the problem.”

“No,” he said softly. “You just made us see the cracks.”

I didn’t know whether to be grateful or guilty.

The journey took us through the Vale of Echoes, a  forest that wasn’t just forest. The trees whispered back when you spoke. They echoed your fears in voices you didn’t recognize. When night fell, I heard my own voice calling out through the woods, but I hadn’t spoken.

It was unnerving. Darcy stayed close, his hand sometimes brushing mine. Trenton never looked back.

At one point, Oliver snapped.

“This isn’t working,” he hissed, rounding on Trenton. “You’re not talking to any of us. You’re not stopping to rest. You’re not even trying to explain what the hell is happening to you.”

Trenton’s jaw clenched. “Because I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” Oliver shot back. “You know something. You’ve known for days.”

“I’m trying to focus on saving Rowan,” Trenton growled. “I don’t have time to unravel whatever nightmare is in my blood.”

Oliver shoved him. “Then make time. Because you’re not the only one hurting, Trent.”

The tension snapped like a whip.

Darcy stepped between them.

 “Enough. We don’t have the luxury of fighting each other.”

Trenton turned to walk away again, but this time, I couldn’t let him.

“Trenton,” I said, stepping into his path.

His eyes flicked to mine.

“I don’t care what you are,” I said. “Faeblooded, cursed, whatever. You’re still you. And you’re still part of this bond—if you let yourself be.”

He looked like he wanted to believe me. But then he said nothing, just stepped around me and kept walking.

I didn’t cry, but  I wanted to.

The Moon Shrine wasn’t what I expected.

It wasn’t grand, it’s wasn’t beautiful.

It was ancient and crumbling—halfswallowed by the mountain it was carved into. Vines had overtaken the archways. Moss coated the stone steps. And yet, when we stepped into the clearing, something in my chest stirred.

Power, real power.

The air shimmered like heat off stone, and the earth hummed with a steady pulse. My skin prickled. Rowan stirred in Darcy’s arms.

“This is it,” Trenton said quietly.

We moved quickly, laying Rowan on the altar at the center. The runes glowed faintly—red this time, not blue. As if sensing the urgency of his wounds.

The moment his body touched the stone, light flared from the ground. The runes lit up across the entire floor, illuminating a massive circular pattern none of us had seen until now.

It was a  circle meant for five.

I stood at one point. The brothers instinctively moved to the others.

That’s was when he appeared, the fae appeared.

He stepped out of the shadows like he’d been waiting. Cloaked in that same swirling darkness and green, eyes like a dying star.

“You found the heart of the Moon Shrine,” he said.

Trenton’s voice was ice. “What do you want?”

“A choice.”

The fae walked into the circle slowly, not setting off the runes. Not touching the magic.

“You’ve bound your lives together. But this shrine is old magic. It does not believe in four hearts. It believes in three.”

My stomach dropped.

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“One of you must be cut out,” he said. “Severed. Broken clean.”

“No,” Darcy said at once. “We’ve come too far to lose our bond.”

“If you do not choose,” the fae said, voice quiet but sharp, “the shrine will choose for you. And it does not choose kindly.”

I looked around the circle, at Trenton, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. At Oliver, whose fists were clenched. At Darcy, whose face was filled with panic and love and pain.

And at Rowan, his breath flickering like a candle about to die.

“One of us must let go,” the fae said. “In order to  save the others. Or you risk all of you being destroyed by the imbalance.”

No one spoke, not  even me.

Because I felt the bond stretch.

I felt it tighten.

The choice wasn’t just emotional, it was magical. And it was starting to burn.

I stepped forward, toward the altar.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Darcy’s voice broke. “Isabella—”

But I wasn’t done.

I looked at Rowan. At the barelythere rise and fall of his chest.

And then I turned to the fae.

“Tell me how to break the bond.”

“By touching the altar,” he said. “And choosing who to sever.”

I took one step closer.

My hand rose—