Preview

Prologue

Long ago, the world was sundered.
None remembered why or how it began, only that a forgotten curse had cleaved the heavens in two.
To the east rose the eternal sun, blazing with audacious splendor over Solara, the realm of fire and glory, ruled by the Aurelius bloodline.
To the west reigned the endless moon, draping its silken veil across Selvaran, the realm of shadow and stars, governed by the Velastra line.
Two realms beneath one fractured sky, where sun and moon ascended together yet never touched.
For centuries they waged war, their hatred as ancient as the curse that birthed it, its origin long eroded by time.

Yet even as Solara burned bright and Selvaran shimmered in quiet twilight, destiny stirred.
Threads long severed began to knit together once more, weaving toward a convergence that could mend the world’s fragile balance or unravel it entirely.

It began as a tranquil night.

Queen Astrid reclined on a velvet chaise near the balcony, where a gentle lunar glow streamed through the glass and illuminated her features with quiet grace. The faint clack of knitting needles broke the stillness as silver thread slipped through her deft fingers, weaving garments for the child she had yet to meet. Each loop shimmered like captured moonlight. The air carried the delicate fragrance of moonblossoms from the gardens below, mingling with the cool breath of evening. Magic flowed through all things in Selvaran, a soft pulse woven into every sigh of night.

Behind her, King Orion’s hands rested upon her shoulders, kneading gently to ease the tension that had gathered there. The knots loosened beneath his palms. The weight of her swollen belly pressed against her lap, a living testament to the life blossoming within her, the long-awaited heir to the throne, their firstborn. Her breaths came in shallow pulls beneath the strain of new life.

“My love,” Orion murmured, his voice low as his thumbs traced slow circles across her shoulders. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” she admitted with a faint smile. “Our child is fierce tonight. She hasn’t stopped kicking.”

He chuckled softly. “Then she truly takes after her mother.”

Astrid arched a brow, her lips curving. “I’m positive she takes after her father.”

Before he could answer, a sharp pain seized her. Astrid gasped, clutching her stomach as warmth flooded down her legs.

“Orion,” she breathed, her eyes wide. “It’s time. The baby is coming.”

In an instant, the stillness of the night was shattered.

Servants rushed in. Footsteps thundered through the corridors. The air filled with the sharp scent of herbs as midwives swarmed to the queen’s side. King Orion was ushered out, the heavy doors closing behind him.

Outside, he paced like a man trapped between joy and dread. Excitement warred with fear. The thought of meeting his child set his heart ablaze, yet worry for Astrid’s safety gnawed at him. Her cries echoed through the marble halls, twisting his chest with every sound.

Hours passed with the weight of centuries. Still, there was no cry, no word, no sign of life from within.

He stopped before the tall window. Moonlight spilled across the floor, casting pale light over his face. The moon hung heavy above the kingdom, surrounded by a thousand stars whispering secrets only he could hear.

Then he saw it. One star burned red, falling fast through the sky. Another followed, white as snow, colliding with the first before vanishing into the dark.

His brow furrowed. He possessed the gift of reading the stars, and he knew such an omen bore meaning. Yet before he could unravel it, a sound pierced the stillness. The cry of a newborn, faint yet beautiful.

He turned and ran.

When he burst through the chamber doors, the midwives parted to give him space as he stumbled inside. Astrid sat slumped against the bedframe, her hair damp and her face pale, but she was alive. Relief washed through him like a breath he had held for far too long.

In her arms lay a small bundle wrapped in linen, faint light spilling from the folds. The queen smiled weakly.

“It’s a princess, my love,” she said, her voice trembling with exhaustion and joy.

He stepped closer, each heartbeat louder than the last. His daughter. A princess.

By the time he reached her side, the light had grown stronger, surrounding the child like moonlight over still water, radiant yet calm. Astrid held out the baby, and Orion took her into his arms. The glow pulsed softly from the center of her tiny chest, where a crescent-shaped mark shimmered silver and alive.

The mark of the Moon Priestess.

It had been centuries since anyone was born with such a blessing. His daughter was her rebirth, the living echo of legend. She was destined to fulfill a divine purpose long forgotten, one that had faded when the world was still whole.

His voice trembled. “She is a miracle.”

A quiet certainty settled within him. The burden his daughter would carry lay far beyond his reach or control. The stars had already written her fate. He could only accept it.

He blinked away the wetness gathering in his eyes as he lifted the infant higher in his arms. Awe flooded every corner of his heart as he studied her face. She was beautiful. Undeniably beautiful.

“We shall name her Luna,” he said. For the moon. For the Priestess reborn.

The faint light on her chest flickered gently at his words, as though answering him.

“For her lunar light will guide the people of the night,” he said, “and break the curse of the darkness.”

With the birth of their princess, Selvaran changed forever.

 

Chapter One

Luna

The arrow cut through the night, silver against the dark sky, gliding with preternatural precision before striking the rabbit cleanly through. The small body tumbled into the grass and fell still, its final motion fading into the tranquil whisper of the forest.

A gleeful sound escaped Luna as she did a small dance, or rather a little wiggle of triumph, given she was still mounted on her mare. At only ten years old, her aim already rivaled that of Selvaran’s most seasoned hunters. Perhaps even those of Solara. Pride tugged a smile across her lips as she swung down from her horse.

She crouched beside the creature, brushing her fingers across its soft fur as its warmth ebbed swiftly into the cool night air of Selvaran. Life had already slipped from its eyes, leaving behind only stillness.

“Don’t worry, little rabbit,” she murmured, her tone soft as she made her promise to the small creature. “Your life will not be wasted. Tonight, you’ll be honored by the fire.”

Hunting was only permitted in Selvaran when the creature’s life would serve a purpose. Killing without one was considered a transgression. Her father, King Orion, forbade the taking of any life without meaning. Every resource, he said, must be treated with care and reverence. Every creature was part of the balance of life.

Luna lifted the rabbit gently by its ears and rose. She turned toward her mount, just beginning to slip the rabbit into the leather pouch strapped to Moonshade, the silver-white horse her uncle Khael had gifted her, when a voice cut through the stillness of the forest.

She pivoted toward the sound and found a boy standing among the trees, no older than she was, with hair the color of sunlight, impossibly rare in Selvaran. His eyes, a luminous ocean blue and brimming with tears, met hers.

“You killed my rabbit,” he said, his voice trembling. His shoulders shook with every word. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, making Luna nearly groan at the sight. For someone who looked around her age, he acted more like a helpless infant.

She scrutinized him with quiet percipience. Something about him felt incongruous. His clothes were finely woven, his boots spotless, not a worn mark in sight, and his hair neatly trimmed. Even his posture was unblemished by hardship. No village child could afford attire like that, and the colors, white and gold, were unmistakable. Solara colors. The enemy.

Her grip tightened on the bow. He might have been young, but Solaran nobles were trained in combat before they could even read. Even their games were built upon the concept of war. Still, there was nothing fierce or formidable about this one. The way he fidgeted, the way his lip quivered as he tried to hold back more tears, he seemed different, too soft for a Solaran.

Against her better judgment, she straightened and lifted her chin, just as Uncle Khael had taught her. Fear is vulnerability, he always said. Show courage and even the strongest opponent will hesitate. This boy looked like the kind who would cry over a bruised flower. There was no doubt he would cower.

“It is not your rabbit,” she said, keeping her tone even. “The forest owns it. Anyone may hunt here so long as they obey the laws of Selvaran.”

“But I chose that rabbit,” the boy stammered, looking down at the ground. “I found him first and named him. He was my pet, and you killed him.”

Luna blinked in disbelief. A pet. In the wild. The boy had named a wild rabbit and expected no one to kill it simply because he had claimed it. Unbelievable.

She lifted the rabbit by its ears, holding it out for him to see. His shoulders trembled again at the sight. She let out a quiet sigh. “What’s done is done. I can offer you a piece of the meat.”

He shook his head, tears spilling freely now. “I do not want to eat Flurry.”

“Flurry?” Luna repeated under her breath. The moon help her. Of all the names in the realm, this boy had chosen Flurry. Why not something grander and fiercer, like Sir Fluffer? But Flurry? No wonder the poor creature had run straight toward an arrow.

She lowered the rabbit and studied the boy. Her parents were probably already wondering where she had gone, yet this boy wept as though his heart had been cleaved in two over a rabbit, for moon’s sake.

She crossed to him and placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. His gaze dropped to the limp body in her other hand, and he sniffed.

Battling the urge to roll her eyes at his reaction, Luna chose her words carefully.

“I am sorry,” she said gently. “But Flurry is gone. You must let him go.”

A shaky breath escaped him as he wiped his tears away. “Okay,” he whispered.

Well, that was far too easy. She offered him a small, sympathetic smile, which he returned with one of his own. His eyes, an arresting shade of oceanic blue, gleamed beneath the moonlight, luminous and ineffable, far too lovely for someone from the enemy realm. Solara truly bred the most beautiful eyes.

She quickly shifted her focus back to the forest. She needed to return home before her parents grew anxious. But just as she turned, an arrow sliced past her cheek.

Luna froze. Someone was trying to kill her.

More arrows hissed through the air. She lifted her arm, light bursting from her palm. The shaft splintered mid-flight, scattering like molten sparks before they could reach her.

From her peripheral vision, she caught the boy’s reaction. There was something in the way he looked at her—wide-eyed, knowing—told her he knew exactly who she was.

Before the thought fully formed, he seized her hand and pulled her deeper into the forest.

“Run.”

They darted between the trees, their small feet pounding against the earth as arrows chased them through the dark. Luna could not tell how many attackers there were, only that they wanted them dead.

It was the first time she had ever experienced a true attack. Khael had warned her father that such things could happen, but never once had it occurred until now.

Her lungs burned as they ran. Each breath came faster, sharper, until it felt as if the air itself pressed down on her chest. The boy said nothing. He only held her hand tightly, leading her through the thick woods until the trees thinned and gave way to a riverbank.

They halted at the water’s edge, panting, trying to catch their breath. Luna whipped around and scrutinized the surroundings, her eyes narrowing as she spotted them.

Masked figures emerging from the shadows. Five in total.

She could not tell which realm they served. Their faces were concealed behind black fabric, their eyes the only discernible thing. They discarded their bows and drew their blades. Moonlight struck the steel, gleaming like liquid mercury.

Luna raised her bow, her hands trembling, though she forced her voice to remain unwavering.

“How dare you attack the princess of Selvaran.”

The assassins offered no reply.

They charged.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She drew an arrow, but too late. It struck the ground at one of their feet, useless against their advance.

A sudden tug seized her arm, yanking her backward. The next instant, icy water engulfed her.

 

Chapter Two

Luna

The ice water swallowed her whole. The river dragged them under, the boy’s grip anchoring her as the current tore them downstream.

They coughed and gasped, swallowed by the roar of the water. The world above vanished into a blur of darkness.

The forest, the assassins, the chaos—everything vanished beneath the unrelenting surge.

When they finally reached land again, both were soaked to the bone. The boy’s golden hair plastered to his forehead, several shades darker when drenched. His body shook violently, teeth chattering. Luna crawled forward, hacking up river water as mud smeared across her palm.

He had saved her. He had also nearly drowned her. She wasn’t sure whether to thank him or shove him back into the river.

She collapsed onto her back, arms sprawled across the damp earth. “When will this war finally end?” she groaned. Every breath carried exhaustion—the assassins, the running, the conflict that felt endless and puerile. Couldn’t Solara simply call for a truce already?

The boy fell beside her, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. “When Selvaran decides to call for peace,” he managed between shivers.

He did not merely blame her people. Solara’s arrogance seeped from his words like heat radiating from embers. For years, it was Solara who had refused to halt their relentless assaults. Her people had only ever fought to defend themselves.

Luna turned sharply toward him, strands of soaked black hair clinging to her cheek. “Or when Solara calls for peace! They’re the ones keeping this war alive.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows, water dripping from his sleeves. “Solara isn’t the only one at fault. Our people suffer just as much as yours. We want it to end too.”

Her breath caught. Our people. We.

“You’re Solaran,” she said quietly.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Silence settled between them, heavy as the clouds above.

Luna’s heart thudded. She had escaped assassins… only to wash ashore with the enemy.

Selvaran and Solara had been at war for centuries, drowning generations in hatred no one truly remembered the origin of.

Blaming him felt pointless. He was only a boy, a child like her, born beneath the weight of someone else’s hatred.

With a quiet sigh, she rose and wrung the water from her hair. “What were you doing on our side of the border? You should know Solarans are not welcome here.”

He hesitated, his blue eyes flicking away, fixing instead on a nearby tree as if it held the right answer. “I… I was wandering.”

“Wandering?” she repeated, unimpressed.

No Solaran child wandered alone into hostile territory. And his attire—white jacket embroidered in gold—betrayed everything. He wasn’t merely a simple child. He was someone significant.

She crossed her arms. “Why are you really here?”

He stared at the river, watching the current sweep past them. Only after a long silence did he speak. “I came from a camp nearby.”

“A camp?” Luna’s voice hardened. “A Solaran camp inside Selvaran borders?”

He rolled his eyes, exhaustion dripping from his tone. “We’re not camping inside Selvaran territory. We’re stationed on our own border, just as you are on yours.”

There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask, yet doing so meant revealing her own reasons for being here. She could not tell him why her people were stationed nearby, and she doubted he would confess his truth either.

Still… one question lingered.

“Who are you?” she asked.

He hesitated again, gaze dropping to a small stone he picked up, turning it over with restless fingers as though it were the most fascinating object in existence. With a swing of his arm, he tossed it into the river. The rock skipped before vanishing beneath the current.

“Just a son.”

A son of whom?

Her eyes scrutinized him closely, taking in the fine stitching, the gold detailing, the posture too polished for common blood. No ordinary child wore clothes like that.

He must have come from wealth—perhaps even royalty.

Could he be… no, impossible. The Solaran king would never be so careless as to let his own son cross enemy lands.

Yet curiosity pricked her.

She tilted her head. “Whose son? And what is your name?”

His cheeks flushed. He looked flustered, caught between veracity and deceit. “I… I’m the son of a lord. Just a provincial lord. No one of importance.” He extended his hand toward her, forcing a small, nervous smile. “The name is… Sol.”

A son of a provincial lord? One from the border region? It could make sense, yet something in her refused to buy it. No lesser lord could afford gold thread. Fine. If he wished to lie, she could too.

“The name is…” She gripped his hand. “Nova.”

His fingers tightened around hers, a faint smile tugging at his lip. “Nice to meet you, Nova.”

The way he said Nova made it sound as though he didn’t believe her either. Nevertheless, they held the fragile game of deception; neither intended to break it.

“So, Sol,” she said, brushing mud from her knees, “what are you doing at the camp? Children of lords don’t normally train in war camps.”

His mouth opened, then closed again as though choosing his words carefully. He released her hand and stood, brushing mud from his clothes. His white trousers were stained brown, but he seemed utterly unconcerned—another sign of wealth.

“I’m training,” he said.

“Training?” Luna raised a brow. “Aren’t you a little too young for that?”

So the rumors were true. Solaran children began training young. No wonder Selvaran struggled to hold its borders. Her father was too merciful to send children to war.

He shrugged. “My father wants me to be capable. He says I am inadequate. If I am capable, maybe I can help end the war.”

Sympathy stirred in her chest, though she wished it hadn’t. Feeling pity for an enemy was dangerous. Khael would have lectured her for hours.

Yet she caved anyway.

“But Sol, you’re too young to fight in a war.”

He said nothing. His silence said enough. He had no choice. What the king commanded, he obeyed—even if it meant marching to death. She knew that feeling too well. She had never wanted to be a princess either, but duty never cared for wishes. Duty came first.

It always had.

She gazed down at her trembling hands. Her bow was gone now, probably lost somewhere in the river’s depths. “My father says the war will end soon. But it never does. Someone always pays the price.”

He turned toward her. “It is the same in Solara. Our people are suffering. My fa— the king says the war continues because Selvaran refuses peace.”

She let out a sharp snort. “Your king could not be more wrong. Selvaran would give anything for this war to end.”

“Well then, Selvaran should end it.”

“Maybe Solara should end it first.”

Their eyes met, stubborn and unyielding.

A long silence pulled between them before Luna sighed. This was why the war would never end. The repetition of history built on the same festering hatred passed down from generation to generation like a poisonous heirloom. And here they were, echoing the very conflict they had inherited. Perhaps, as the princess of Selvaran, she could be the first to break that cycle—start here, with him. Find common ground with her enemy’s son.

“Maybe both realms are misguided,” she said quietly. “Maybe we both want peace, but we’re too stubborn to admit it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Maybe it isn’t about who started the war,” she continued softly. “Maybe it’s about who ends it. Who drops their pride first and lets their people live.”

He stared at her, uncertain, as if weighing her words. Then a faint, unexpected smile curved his lips.

“You’re strange for a Selvaran,” he said. “Where did you say you came from again?”

“And you’re arrogant for a Solaran,” she replied, a small smile forming despite herself. “Just a farmer’s daughter.”

If he could lie, so could she.

He studied her for another moment, then turned toward the river. The current rushed strong and steady, still a miracle they had survived.

“We should find our way back,” he said.

She nodded. Together, they began walking through the forest.

Along the way, Luna asked him small, harmless questions—his favorite food, what Solara looked like, the sort of things she had always wondered about. It wasn’t every day she met a child of the sun realm.
He confessed that he was an only child and that his father was exacting. No matter how hard he worked, it was never enough.

Luna listened with quiet percipience, empathizing with him in a way he probably didn’t expect. She knew that feeling too well, the endless pressure to become the perfect heir her parents wanted her to be.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, the moon was already sinking toward the horizon. They stood in silence, shivering as the cold tightened around them. Mist curled at their feet, rising thicker as Moonfall approached in Selvaran.

Luna was mid-sentence when the sound of hooves broke through the stillness, thundering against the ground. Her heart skipped. They had been found. But by who? Solara or Selvaran?

She snapped her head toward the noise. Through the drifting fog, riders emerged, their armor gleaming beneath the pallid light. The black-and-silver flag of Selvaran unfurled in the wind, its threads glinting with austere grace. Relief flooded her chest.

Uncle Khael.

They must have begun searching for her after she failed to return to camp for supper. A wave of comfort washed over her, steadying her trembling hands.
Luna cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, her voice echoing through the mist. “I’m right here!”

A relieved smile began to form, but when she turned toward Sol, it faltered. Panic flared in his eyes. His gaze darted toward the riders, his body going rigid as if preparing to flee.

Uncle Khael’s horse came to a halt before them, hooves tearing into the earth. He glared down from the saddle, his black leather armor clinging to his frame, his cloak billowing in the wind. His expression was grim. Luna did not need to guess. She was in trouble.

“Princess, where have you been?” His voice carried the resonance of command, yet beneath it lived a restrained softness meant for her alone.

Luna winced. That tone meant she was about to get an earful about how the princess of Selvaran should never wander off alone, especially near the border.
“I got lost,” she blurted, forcing a feigned innocence. But sweetness never swayed Khael. He was the commander of her father’s army, a man forged by war, shaped by a lifetime beneath military law. A soldier molded by order and discipline. If coldness had a visage, it would be his.

Khael’s scrutinizing gaze shifted. His lips pressed into a thin, severe line. He was staring at Sol.

Uh oh.

Luna’s stomach dropped. “This is Sol,” she said hastily, hoping to de-escalate the situation before it began. “He helped me find my way out of the forest.”

Khael ignored her. His eyes never wavered. “Who are you, boy?”

Rigid with tension, Sol chewed his bottom lip, his gaze avoiding Khael’s piercing eyes. Instead, it found Luna’s, wordlessly pleading for help. But Khael was already in motion.

The commander dismounted with a fluid motion, his boots striking the ground with a heavy thud. In one swift movement, he caught Sol’s arm and twisted hard. The boy flinched, his breath catching from the pain, yet he uttered no sound. His gaze shifted to Khael, unyielding now, his defiance almost audacious against the commander’s imposing presence.

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but Khael silenced her with a raised hand. His grip on Sol’s arm tightened, twisting further until a strangled cry escaped the boy’s lips.

“The prince of Solara,” Khael said coldly. “It seems the rumors were true. The ruler has sent his own son into the battle.”

Her breath caught. The prince of Solara. Not a noble but a royal. The only son of King Leo. The heir of the Sun Realm. She was standing beside not only her enemy’s son but the boy whose father had caused the deaths of hundreds of her people.

The truth struck her. King Leo had sent his own son into the fray. From her lessons, she remembered that the prince of Solara was merely a year older than she was. Eleven years old. A child hurled into the chaos of war. What kind of man would demand that of his blood?

Her gaze darted between Khael and Sol, disbelief anchoring her tongue. She could not speak.

Through gritted teeth, Sol managed, “My father isn’t sending me off to the war. I was supposed to stay in camp, but I snuck out.”

“Perfect,” Khael replied as he drew his sword, the steel reflecting the moon’s final rays. The silver shine illuminated Sol’s features. “Then we shall rid the realms of the heir of that wretched throne and end their bloodline once and for all.”

Solis struggled against Khael’s restraint, golden flame igniting in his palm as he tried to break free, his fire licking across Khael’s leather, yet the commander did not relent. Luna could only watch as the fire burned. So it was true. Sol was an Aurelius. Only the Aurelius bloodline carried a flame of such luminous gold.

His chest heaved, and despite his youth, his eyes held no fear. Only defiance. A kind of bravery Luna had never known a child could possess. His chin lifted, proud and unyielding, as if daring Khael to strike.

That was not wise. Khael was not the type to be swayed once his resolve had set.

The blade arched toward Sol’s neck—
Luna moved before she realized it and threw herself between them.