Chapter 7

Elara

I arrived at the north path ten minutes early. The trail behind Moonlight Tower was rarely used after sunset. Silver-leaf trees grew along both sides, their narrow leaves catching the last light and reflecting it in soft fragments across the stones.

I sat on the first bench and placed my hands in my lap. The western sky was still bright at the horizon. I reached between the branches and let the fading light fall across my fingers. The warmth was faint, but it was enough to loosen the tension in my shoulders.

For a few minutes, I felt almost calm. Then I heard footsteps on the path. I lowered my hand.

Kael appeared between the silver-leaf trees. He had changed out of his uniform jacket and was wearing a dark coat over a plain shirt. His hair was slightly disordered, as if he had run his hand through it on the way there.

He stopped when he saw me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. He looked at me, then at the empty path behind me.

I knew what he was thinking—or at least, I could guess. This location was too quiet for an ordinary conversation. He probably still believed the meeting might be a confession.

I almost wanted to tell him immediately that he was wrong. Instead, we spoke at the same time.

“I wanted to ask you about—”

“Have you ever heard the story of the Moon Goddess?”

My voice came first. Kael paused.

“No,” he said. “Not in the way you’re about to tell it.”

I ignored the strange reply and looked toward the silver leaves.

“Hundreds of years ago, the Moon Goddess guarded the night, dreams, and emotional magic.”

Her power was not used for battle. It regulated the minds of living creatures, soothed unstable emotions, and guided the tides of magic that rose and fell through the world. People prayed to her when they could not sleep or when their magic became difficult to control.

Then her power began to overflow. The legends disagreed about the cause. Some claimed that the Goddess had been injured; others believed the emotions of too many people had gathered inside her until they became impossible to contain.

Whatever the truth, the Moon Goddess eventually lost control of her own power. The temple feared that the overflow would destroy entire regions. To prevent that, the priests placed a seal within her bloodline.

The seal divided the lunar power from the body that carried it, forcing the magic into a controlled cycle. After that, the Moon Goddess disappeared. Her temples were abandoned, her name became a symbol used in old poetry, and her descendants gradually vanished from public records.

Today, most people believe that the bloodline ended centuries ago. They treat the Moon Goddess as an old story. I lowered my eyes to my hands.

“It isn’t only a story.”

Kael did not move.

“The bloodline did not disappear,” I continued. “I carry a small remnant of the Moon Goddess’s power.”

The words sounded strangely quiet in the empty path. I pulled back the sleeve of my cloak. A faint silver line lay beneath the skin of my wrist.

“My Eclipse Curse is the side effect of the seal the temple placed in that bloodline. The lunar magic inside me keeps colliding with the seal, and the conflict creates an imbalance.”

I watched the silver mark instead of his face.

“When it flares, the magic leaks out on its own. My body searches for a source capable of neutralizing it, and I develop a strong need to get close to that source.”

I paused.

“Even a short touch can relieve the symptoms.”

The wind moved through the silver-leaf trees. Kael remained silent.

“That is what happened in the corridor,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable, and I wasn’t trying to attract attention.”

My fingers closed around the edge of my sleeve.

“I need you to keep it secret.”

The request sounded too small for the weight behind it. This was my greatest secret. If people learned that the Moon Goddess’s bloodline still existed, every faction interested in ancient magic would start looking for me. Some would want to study the power, some would want to control it, and some would decide that the safest solution was to remove the risk entirely.

I had spent most of my life learning not to be found.

“I’m telling you because you already noticed something,” I continued.

I finally looked at him.

“Your shadow magic is not like an ordinary Shadow Department student’s. It is too pure, too responsive, and too stable. No seal stone or potion could imitate it.”

His expression did not change. He neither admitted nor denied it.

“I’m giving you my secret,” I said. “You have a secret of your own that I won’t investigate. We can leave it there.”

The silver mark faded beneath my sleeve.

“Keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours. Neither of us has to ask questions.”

The path became very quiet. I had said everything I needed to say. Now I only had to wait for him to decide whether I had made a mistake.

Kael

For several seconds, I could only look at her. She was not confessing. She had brought me to a secluded path, told me about a hidden bloodline, shown me a curse mark, and asked me to keep a secret.

Not a confession. I touched the side of my nose and looked away.

I had completely misunderstood the situation.

The realization was inconveniently humiliating. I had spent the entire day preparing to reject her gently because I was worried about Liam and Emma’s relationship. Meanwhile, Elara had been preparing to explain why she had nearly collapsed in a hallway.

I cleared my throat.

“First, the jokes in the corridor weren’t aimed at you.”

She watched me without speaking.

“Dylan and the others were making fun of me. They heard what you said and decided to turn it into a public performance.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to look so calm about it.”

“I’m not calm.”

Her expression remained perfectly still. I believed her.

“I’ll keep your secret,” I said.

She did not look relieved. She only lowered her sleeve and covered the silver mark again. I did not admit that she had correctly identified my magic.

I did not deny it either. There was no reason to hand her more information than she had asked for. Still, her words remained in my mind.

Too pure. Too responsive. Not something a seal stone or potion could imitate.

She had noticed the difference from a single embrace. That was not ordinary.

“What do you usually do when it happens?” I asked.

“Endure it.”

The answer came too quickly. I looked at her.

“That’s your entire method?”

“I use lunar meditation, stabilizers, and temperature-control charms. If those fail, I endure it.”

“And the night at the restaurant?”

“It had been building all day.”

She turned her gaze toward the silver-leaf trees.

“The public attention, the fatigue, and the contact pushed it past the limit. I couldn’t suppress it anymore.”

I remembered her wrist during dinner. The faint silver gleam. The way she had stood in the corridor with her face drained of color.

The way she had held onto my sleeve as if it were the only solid thing left in the world. I thought of the possibility that she had gone through that kind of pain before without telling anyone in her room. Emma, Tara, and Lillian probably believed she was merely quiet.

They might not know how often she had sat alone in the dark, waiting for her body to stop fighting itself. I remembered her expression over the past few days whenever someone mentioned the rumor.

The controlled face. The lowered head. The way she left before anyone could ask a question.

Why had she never asked for help? The answer was probably obvious. She did not trust anyone with the parts of herself that could be used against her.

I should have let the subject end there. Instead, I heard myself say, “If you can’t endure it next time, I wouldn’t mind letting you lean on me again.” I made my voice casual, as if I were commenting on the weather.

Elara looked at me. The last light of sunset touched the side of her face, turning her eyes briefly amber.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

“I know.”

“Then why say it?”

I had no answer that sounded reasonable. So I shrugged.

“You already know where to find me.”

She glanced toward the darkening sky. The first stars had begun to appear above the tower.

“Thank you,” she said.

This time, the words sounded different from the ones in the restaurant. Less formal. Less like an attempt to close the conversation.

She stood up and straightened her cloak. I remained seated while she stepped onto the path. She walked beneath the silver-leaf trees without looking back.

For a long time, I watched her figure disappear behind the branches. The barrier stone in my palm grew faintly warm. Its carved lines pressed against my skin, responding to the shadow magic sealed inside me.

I did not move. I only kept watching the place where she had vanished.