Chapter 3: Ashes and Names
The sky outside the Council Hall had darkened into storm-drenched dusk, though no clouds gathered above. The wind was unnaturally still. Even nature seemed to hold its breath.
Sarah and Apollo were escorted out beneath silence—no trumpets, no honor guard, no farewells.
Their steps echoed down the long stone corridors of Solari’s envoy estate, where their traveling party awaited, and where shame had already bloomed like poison ivy through the ranks. Word traveled faster than the sun itself in royal circles, and when the pair returned, it was not as honored guests, but as exiled spirits.
Apollo’s father, King Lucien of Solari, stood atop the platform of their transport vessel, a sleek, sun-forged skiff that shimmered like molten glass. His golden armor was untouched, but his face was marred with something rarely seen upon it—disgust.
“You disgrace not only yourself,” Lucien said coldly as Apollo approached, head bowed, “but the blood of Solari. The blood of kings.”
Apollo dropped to one knee before him, but it was not respect. It was fear. “Father, I—”
“You knew, Apollo,” the King interrupted. “You knew she was your mate. We could have annulled the arrangement through sacred rites. No Clan would have faulted a Prince claiming a true-bonded mate. But instead, you stood idle as she was defiled. You watched.”
His gaze flicked to Sarah, who stood behind Apollo, pale as bone, her eyes hollow and rimmed with red. “And you,” the King hissed, “to poison a Luna—your own soul’s kin in the eyes of the Goddess? Even in a former life, your sin stains the present.”
“Please—” Sarah croaked, “we were young. We didn’t understand what—”
“You understood enough to lie,” the King said. “To scheme. To choose comfort over courage.”
Then he turned to his guards. “The Prince will be stripped of his place in the heir’s court. The girl will be returned to her bloodline under guard. There will be no bond-blessing. Their shame will not echo further in my halls.”
Sarah collapsed. Apollo didn’t move.
Using the Alpha command the King made his demand, “Apollo, you will reject your mate and take whatever punishment the Goddess decides for you.” He turned his gaze to Alpha Valir, “Force her to accept the rejection. I will not reward treachery in any form…they do not deserve the Goddess’ blessing.”
Apollo sobbed before his father, “I Apollo, former Prince of Clan Solari…reject you Sarah Greenplume as my mate.”
Ren wasn’t merciful, he’d lost not only the wager but a Goddess blessed daughter, “You will reject him and return to your parent’s in shame admitting your sins and treachery Sarah.” His alpha command forcing her submission even as tears fell from her eyes. “I Sarah of House Greenplume, accept your rejection Apollo Solari…may the Goddess spare us and allow for a second chance. You do not deserve this my Prince, I’m sorry.”
And the skiff pulled away into the dark, carrying disgrace in its wake.
Back in the Council Hall’s antechamber, tension hummed like a held breath.
Clan Valir stood in fracturing lines—nobles and retainers unsure whether to approach Jessica with apology or pretend neutrality. Her father, Alpha Ren Valir, remained where he’d stood since the flames had vanished, stiff-backed and silent. Her brother, Cain, glared at the floor, his fists clenched with impotent frustration.
Jessica stood before them, her Uncle Thorne at her right side, a protective presence cloaked in quiet power. The mark of the Goddess still glowed faintly over her heart.
“You agreed to the terms, Ren of Clan Valir,” she said, her voice even. “You all did. In front of the Seer. In front of the Clans. And in front of the Goddess Herself.”
Her father’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing.
Jessica stepped forward. “You believed I was disposable. A girl meant to serve your ambitions. And when I suffered, when I screamed, when I cried for help, you said nothing. You sent healers with cold hands and silent tongues. You buried my pain beneath propriety and told me to smile.”
She turned to the nobles behind him, her gaze sweeping over the familiar faces who had once looked through her.
“Not one of you stood for me. Not even when I was a child. Not when Cain and his friends mocked me. Not when Sarah twisted lies around me. Not even when I was to be sacrificed for your politics.”
Ren’s mouth opened. “Jessica—”
“I am not your daughter,” she said softly but with steel. “Not anymore.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd.
Jessica took one final step, and her words rang through the hall like the toll of judgment.
“I, Jessica Chimaera of Clan Chimaera, reject you and all those of Clan Valir that mistreated me while I was in your care.”
Her voice echoed, reverberating through stone and soul alike.
“May the Goddess forgive you all,” she said. “For I shall not.”
The runes carved into the stone behind her flared silver.
Thorne looked upon her with open pride. “She speaks with the weight of divine truth. The bond is severed. Clan Valir has no claim.”
Ren’s face crumpled—just slightly, just for a breath. A flicker of something almost human regret and shame. “As Alpha of Clan Valir, I accept your rejection to both me and all of my Clan who wronged you…may the Goddess spare the innocent and forgive me someday.”
But it passed.
He nodded once. Not in understanding, but in defeat.
Jessica turned her back on him for the final time.
She walked toward the exit of the chamber, and this time, every noble in the hall parted like the sea for her. Some bowed. Others stepped aside with eyes lowered, avoiding the glowing silver mark that crowned her now. She was no longer prey, no longer invisible. She was the Goddess’s chosen. A Draconic Luna reborn.
As she passed the threshold, a figure broke from the crowd—Elda, one of the elder women of Valir who had once served as her governess. “I never knew,” the woman whispered, her voice shaking. “I swear it. I would have protected you…”
Jessica paused. She studied the woman’s face—worn, sincere, tinged with sorrow. “I hope that’s true,” Jessica said gently. “And I hope, for your soul’s sake, you raise your daughters better than I was raised.”
Elda nodded tearfully and stepped back.
Outside, the sky had cleared. The storm that never came had passed. The moon hung full and radiant above, casting silver light on the walkway as Jessica and Thorne emerged into the night.
She took a breath of the fresh, highland air. It tasted like freedom.
“I half expected him to demand you stay,” Thorne murmured beside her.
Jessica smiled faintly. “He would’ve tried, if the Goddess hadn’t spoken.”
“You meant what you said, didn’t you?” he asked. “You don’t forgive them.”
“No,” she replied. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
Thorne nodded, as if that answer satisfied him more than false mercy. They walked together into the night, the torches of Chimaera’s encampment glowing like stars on the hillside beyond.
Behind them, the halls of Valir echoed with silence, the bitter sting of consequence.
And ahead of them, Jessica’s true life—had finally began.
