Torn Between Destinies

The moon hung high above Thornridge, casting silver light across the stone paths and moss-covered trees. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled in your bones. The wind didn’t speak. The wolves didn’t howl. Even the trees, tall and ancient, stood still like they were holding their breath.

I needed answers.

The letter still weighed heavy in my pocket, creased from being read too many times. Darius’s words played on a loop in my mind—his fears, his confession, the regret dripping between every line.

I didn’t know how to feel anymore.

So I went to the only ones who might understand what the heart couldn’t.

I crossed the training grounds in silence and headed toward the eastern ridge—where the sacred grove lived, tucked behind the mountain’s curve. The path was faint, but my feet knew the way.

The Moon Priestess waited there. And I hoped my father would come too.

Nefang always knew when I needed him.

The grove opened like a breath, wide and glowing under the moonlight. A gentle mist kissed the grass, and moonflowers blinked their soft petals open, their glow barely brighter than the stars.

At the center stood her—tall, cloaked in pale blue robes, silver curls cascading down her back.

Priestess Elenya.