Chapter 18: Echoes of the Past

The parchment burned in Aria’s palm, not with heat, but with weight—of truth, of history, of something ancient clawing to the surface of memory.

By moonlight, she traced the symbols again.

They weren’t just markings—they were coordinates. And now she recognized them. The Eastern Ridge. Just beyond the forbidden cliffs.

The same region where rebels were rumored to be gathering.

A tremor passed through her.

Her mother hadn’t just left behind a trinket. She’d left a map to something hidden from the Silver Moon… and from Kael’s kingdom.

But why?

And why had Kael never questioned her pendant?

Because he didn’t know. Or… because he did, and he was waiting for her to find it.

She couldn’t sit idle any longer.

Aria folded the parchment, slipped it into her boot, and pulled her cloak tight.

If anyone saw her sneaking out at this hour, she’d be branded a traitor.

Which, depending on how one looked at it… wasn’t entirely wrong.

The guards at the East Tower changed every two hours. Aria had memorized their rotation the week she arrived. Timing her steps, she waited until the shift switched, then slipped past the narrow corridor beneath the kitchens.

She moved like smoke—silent, invisible.

Once past the courtyard, she darted through the maze of ancient trees that led toward the stables.

Midnight air clung to her skin. The moon hung heavy, casting a silver glow over everything.

Fitting, she thought bitterly. The Silver Moon always watched.

She reached the stables and approached the far stall where a quiet dapple-gray mare nickered in greeting. Aria stroked her muzzle, whispering calming words.

“You remember me, don’t you, Nyra?” she murmured. “Let’s go for a little run.”

She saddled her quickly and mounted, urging the mare through the hidden rear path toward the cliffside forests.

Every hoofbeat echoed like a countdown in her head.

She didn’t know exactly what she was riding toward—but it felt important.

No, fated.

Kael stood at the tallest window of his chamber, staring into the night.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t explain it—but his wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, growling against invisible chains.

A scent had faded from the palace.

Aria.

He cursed under his breath and spun on his heel.

She was gone.

Not kidnapped. Not lured. She left.

Again.

Within minutes, he had his boots on, his blade sheathed, and his Beta by his side.

“Wake the guards,” he barked to Rowan. “Seal every gate. Track her scent through the north woods and the eastern side cliffs.”

Rowan blinked. “Do you think she—”

“I don’t think. I know.”

The bond between them was volatile, but it still pulsed. Her emotions, once muted, now burned through him like wildfire.

She wasn’t just scared.

She was determined.

And that terrified him more than any blade.

Because Aria, when pushed to the edge, became a storm.

And gods help the kingdom when she finally learned how to wield it.

Aria dismounted at the base of the ridge, where dense fog crawled along the earth.

The coordinates led her to an outcrop hidden behind bramble and rock.

It took effort to push through. Her fingers bled. Thorns tore at her cloak.

But when she emerged on the other side, her breath caught.

A temple.

Ruined, crumbling—but unmistakable.

Pillars of silver-veined stone rose from the ground like sleeping giants. Vines twisted up their length, and moonflowers bloomed across every crack. The air buzzed—not with danger, but with power.

Aria stepped inside, heart hammering.

The pendant around her neck vibrated softly, as if awakened.

She followed the pull through a hallway etched in fading murals.

She couldn’t read all the symbols, but one thing was clear:

The Moonblood Queen.

It was an old prophecy.

A child born of both kingdoms, destined to awaken the ancient line, to choose peace or war.

Aria gasped.

Her mother hadn’t just been fleeing war.

She’d been hiding Aria’s destiny.

The pendant flared suddenly, revealing a hidden carving on the floor—an altar, small and circular, with a well in the center.

She knelt beside it, pressing her palm against the surface.

A low hum filled the chamber.

The floor beneath her shifted, revealing a scroll wrapped in silver cloth.

Carefully, she unrolled it.

Her eyes scanned the text, her fingers trembling.

It was a record.

Of all rulers of the Silver Moon lineage.

And the last name written in ancient ink—

Aria Callen, Daughter of Queen Elira.

Marked as “Lost Heir.”

Marked as “Bearer of the Moonfire Gift.”

Aria’s vision swam.

She wasn’t just of royal blood.

She was the last known heir.

And possibly the only living soul with the dormant power to summon the Moonfire.

She staggered back.

Now it all made sense. Why Kael kept her close. Why the council feared her. Why the rebels whispered her name.

She was the key to a war neither side was ready for.

A rustle behind her snapped her attention.

She spun, hand at her blade.

But it wasn’t a rebel or spirit.

It was Kael.

His eyes glowed in the moonlight, rage and relief warring in his expression.

“Found you,” he growled.

“How—”

“I could feel you,” he said, voice low. “You think I wouldn’t follow?”

She stepped back. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“I had to.”

“Why? To find a fairy tale?”

She held up the scroll.

“No,” she whispered. “To find the truth.”

Kael stared at the parchment, then at her.

“You don’t know what you’ve done, Aria.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “No, Kael. You don’t know who I am.”