A thick gray fog now covered the entire stone altar in the Morrwyn Valley, a place where even the wind dared not blow. The red magic circle glowed dimly, casting a light on Lyra’s face as she lay unconscious. Her skin was pale, her lips blue, as if life were slowly being drawn from her body.
From the trembling air, Seraphina’s soft voice could be faintly heard, echoing from a higher dimension.
“Lyra, can you hear me? Child of the moon, wake up!”
The influence of Morrwyn’s magic was stronger than Seraphina had anticipated, so much so that Lyra did not answer her. 
“Luna Moonborn!” Seraphina called once more. Unfortunately, Lyra still lay asleep on the stone altar. Her eyes were tightly shut, her soul trapped in the darkness of ancient magic.
Seraphina tried to break the veil between the spirit world and the mortal realm, but every attempt was thwarted by the ancient spell binding Lyra’s soul. Beside the altar, Morrwyn stood with a black staff in hand, her lips chanting a spell.
“Sleep a little longer, lost Luna. The world is not yet worthy of seeing you rise.”
In an instant, Seraphina’s light dimmed, and Lyra fell back into a deep sleep. Yet, within her dream, her tears flowed slowly. Whether from pain, or because someone in the outside world was still calling her name.
***
In Nightfall, two women stood on a high balcony gazing at the nearly vanished crescent moon. This time, they were discussing matters together: Selene Ardyn and Elira Blackthorn.
Both appeared calm on the surface, yet their auras radiated an equally dangerous ambition.
Their goal was to remove Lyra from Nightfall and Ravencall.
“So, have you got her locked up somewhere?” Selene asked.
“Yes. Without her Moonborn powers, she won’t last long,” Elira said coldly, gazing toward the forest. “Even if she regains her strength, the Morrwyn potion will consume her power from within.”
“Good,” Selene replied briefly. “Meanwhile, I’ll handle the Kael part.”
Elira shot Selene a sharp glance.
“I’ll also handle Draven. When Lyra vanishes, her soul will be empty. Just enough for me to fill it with my binding magic.”
Selene smiled wryly.
“We’ve never been friends, Elira. But for now, we have a common enemy.”
“A common enemy, Lyra Evren,” Elira repeated slowly, her lips curving into a cynical smile. “But the prophecy says that only one of us will win.”
Both turned toward the moon. Two women, two wills, and one love that was the root of their own destruction.
***
At the altar in Morrwyn’s valley, Lyra winced slightly as the bitter potion was poured into her mouth by the old wizard’s rough hands. Black liquid dripped from the corner of her lips, burning her throat like fire.
“Drink it,” Morrwyn said emotionlessly. “So you may know what it means to be a creature without a destiny.”
Lyra tried to resist, but magical chains held her body in place. Every drop of the liquid eroded the remaining power of the moon within her blood.
Her eyes opened briefly, gazing at the sky through a crack in the stone above the altar. The moon that had once felt so close now seemed foreign and distant.
“Dave,” Lyra whispered, almost inaudibly.
Morrwyn slammed his staff into the ground, causing Lyra to faint again. “No name can save you, Luna,” he said coldly.
“Father, help me!” Lyra murmured softly.
Meanwhile, at the Moon Palace, Evelyn clutched Aeril’s hand, her tear-filled eyes gazing at the earth far below.
“She’s truly suffering terribly, Aeril. Your daughter is dying. I can’t just stand here doing nothing,” Evelyn said in a desperate tone.
Aeril looked at his wife with a pained expression, but his voice was calm.
“Let’s just wait for now.”
“What did you say? Wait?” Evelyn protested. “She’s completely helpless without the moon’s power. Are you really that heartless toward your own daughter?”
“If you can’t, then let me go down to the underworld to bring my daughter back here,” she added, almost pleading.
“You’re wrong. I want to go down just as much as you do. But this is Seraphina’s will.”
“Then, can’t you speak to Seraphina and, if necessary, beg her to—” Evelyn’s sentence trailed off.
From behind the moonlight, Seraphina appeared in a faint form. Her voice was soft, yet firm.
“Lyra must bear the consequences of Moonborn blood mingling with Umbra. Nothing can awaken her, except true love unbound by magic.”
Evelyn bowed her head, tears falling.
“True love?”
“Yes,” Seraphina replied. “Draven Vale’s love.”
Aeril clenched her fists. “But what if Draven himself is trapped in the darkness?”
“Is there no other way to save my daughter?” Evelyn pleaded.
Seraphina gazed off toward Ravencall, her voice soft yet echoing across the sky.
“Draven will surely do something to save Luna Moonborn. We’ll just have to wait.”
“Wait? How much longer, Seraphina?” Evelyn pressed.
“Their love is so pure; it must be able to overcome that dark magic,” Seraphina said soothingly.
***
Meanwhile, in Ravencall, Draven sat in his throne room, his face somber and his eyes bloodshot. Dark shadows danced around him, a sign that Elira’s dark magic had now completely taken over his mind.
Every time Draven closed his eyes, the image of Lyra appeared—but in a vague form, blurring the line between reality and illusion.
Elira stood not far behind him, gently caressing his shoulder.
“You’re tired, my love. Just forget about her. This world has lost enough light already.”
Draven didn’t answer. He stared at his own trembling hands. Every time he tried to recall Lyra’s face clearly, Elira’s shadow always took its place.
“Don’t worry, I’m here to take her place. I want you to be mine forever.”
Elira had truly made Draven a prisoner of her love. Under the influence of dark magic, Draven did whatever Elira commanded.
From the crack in the door, Maela peered in with a heavy heart. She knew something terrible was happening. She realized that Draven’s once-pure Alpha aura had turned cold and soulless.
“I have to find a way to save you, Alpha,” she whispered.
“Before the love that saved Ravencall becomes the very reason for its downfall.”
Maela hurried out of the Ravencall hall before anyone noticed her unease. Her steps were swift as she cut through the night fog toward the small cabin on the edge of the forest, where she kept secrets unknown even to the Alphas.
Inside her cottage, Maela quickly lit the silver candles surrounding the old wooden table. Her hands trembled as she lifted the crystal ball of divination from the black cloth covering it. The crystal’s surface was initially still, then slowly rippled like water touched by the wind.
“Show me the truth about Alpha Draven,” she whispered. “What is happening to him right now?”
A thin fog appeared inside the crystal ball. A shadow of Draven could be seen walking down the hallway of Ravencall Palace with empty eyes, while Elira stood behind him like a shadow clinging to his soul. A black aura coiled around the Alpha’s body, growing thicker with every passing second.
“Alpha, poor thing,” Maela murmured.
Maela held her breath. She knew the magic wasn’t just a common influence—it was a soul-binding spell of dark magic cast through ancient incantations.
Maela’s eyes widened in shock as she interpreted the results of her divination. If the binding were to be completed, it wouldn’t just be Draven’s heart that would be lost, but Lyra’s destiny as well.
Elsewhere, black fog rolled up from the Morrwyn Valley toward the skies of Ravencall.
Seraphina gazed at the earth from afar, whispering softly:
“Time is almost up. Only one heart can reignite the moon’s light.”