Night fell like a velvet shroud over Nyxvale, wrapping the broken fortress in hues of indigo and silver. In the dark, the ruin seemed to breathe. Ghost-lanterns floated brighter, casting restless shadows that flickered like memories. The air was thick with whispers---not from wind, but from the bones of old magic. Elara felt it humming beneath her feet, ancient and aware.
She stood alone on the highest terrace, the wind teasing strands of her hair, eyes locked on the sea far below. The tide slammed itself against the cliffs, over and over, like it was trying to break through something invisible. Maybe it was.
Behind her, Kael approached with soft steps, the kind that only someone used to walking among danger could manage.
"You haven't slept," he said.
"I can't," she replied without looking back. "Every time I close my eyes, I see her. That moment. The blade in her back."
Kael leaned on the railing beside her, silent for a long breath. "You're not the only one haunted by that ghost."
She turned her head slightly, searching his face. "You cared for her, didn't you?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"She was my commander," he said finally. "My friend. Sometimes… I wondered if we could have been more. But her eyes were always ahead. On the war. The mission. You."
Elara's fingers curled against the cold stone. "And now she's gone. And I'm all that's left."
Kael looked at her, voice quiet but certain. "No. You're what's next."
Before she could reply, the iron door behind them groaned open. Selene stepped through, her robes flowing like liquid shadow, face unreadable.
"It's time."
They followed her through the winding halls of Nyxvale's underbelly, where violet fire lit the way and the air smelled of dust, iron, and long-buried truths. Glyphs glimmered faintly along the walls as they passed, reacting to Elara's presence like they remembered her bloodline.
Finally, they entered a round chamber, domed and silent. The walls were etched with symbols that shimmered like starlight, and at its center stood an altar of obsidian stone----carved with a crescent moon and a serpent curled around its edges.
Selene gestured to it. "The Moonfang Altar. A relic from the First War. Forged to bind warriors to the old magic. Only those who bear the First Sigil can awaken it."
Elara stepped closer. "What do I have to do?"
Selene's answer was simple. "Bleed. Freely. The altar will taste your blood and bind its pact to your purpose."
Kael stepped forward, tension in his voice. "That magic hasn't stirred in centuries."
"That's exactly why the Crimson Covenant fears it," Selene replied.
Elara didn't hesitate. She drew Kael's dagger from her belt, turned the blade, and sliced a clean line across her palm. Her blood hit the stone.
Everything changed.
Light exploded from the altar in a column of moonlight, stretching through the ceiling. The glyphs on the walls roared to life, casting icy glow across the room. Mist rose from the floor like breath from ancient lungs.
Elara swayed, but she held steady.
Then a voice filled the chamber---neither male nor female, but vast. Timeless. Deep as the void between stars.
"Name thy purpose."
Elara raised her voice to meet it. "To finish what my mother began. To destroy the Night Herald. And to burn the Crimson Covenant to the ground."
The altar pulsed like a living heart.
"Then the Pact is made."
On her forearm, beneath her glowing sigil, a new mark seared into her skin: a crescent moon pierced by a dagger. The pain was sharp, cold. But Elara didn't flinch.
Magic flooded through her---wilder and older than anything she had touched before. It was like being lit from within by a winter star.
Selene watched with a rare, approving nod. "The Hunter's Moon Pact is yours. It will shield you. Empower you. But it will cost."
Kael reached for her as she stumbled from the dais, steadying her. "You alright?"
Elara's voice was raw but clear. "I will be."
Selene turned to a nearby table, where a weathered map lay unfurled. "You leave for Elarion at dawn. But you won't be going alone."
She clapped once.
A hidden door opened, and four figures stepped into the chamber.
A tall woman with white hair and one golden eye that seemed to see everything.
A man crowned with antlers, his gaze deep and slow like old trees.
A young boy, maybe seventeen, his skin traced with glowing arcane tattoos pulsing with contained power.
And last---a hooded figure who said nothing, but whose presence made the room feel smaller. Like the silence before a thunderclap.
"These," Selene said, "are the Moonbound. Once, they served your mother. Now, they serve you."
Elara looked at them---and felt something settle inside her. Not peace. Not yet. But purpose.
A beginning.
A rebellion.
A fire waiting to rise.
"Then let's give the Crimson Covenant something to fear," she said.
Kael smiled, dark and dangerous. "We already have."