“Princess Alessia. It is time.” The words came from a healer standing respectfully at the door, but Alessia didn’t yet move. She stood rigidly before the dressing mirror, her fingers trembling over the silver clasp of her cloak.
 The room was still dim. Dawn had barely broken over the Citadel. Soft strands of sunlight cut through the curtains like gentle blades, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.
 Her reflection stared back at her: pale, nervous, silver-eyed, and sixteen. Too young for this. Too old to run away.
 Kael stepped behind her, appearing in the mirror over her shoulder like a silent shadow. “You don’t have to go through with this,” he murmured. “We can refuse.”
 Alessia shook her head slowly. “If I refuse now, I walk into the Trial of Essence already afraid of him.”
 Kael’s jaw tightened beneath his mask. “Being cautious isn’t fear.”
 “Yes,” she whispered, “but this isn’t caution. This is cowardice. I feel it.” She met his eyes in the reflection. “I won’t let him control me.”
 Kael exhaled slowly. He lifted a hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. “Then we go.”
 She nodded and reached for the cloak again, fastening it firmly.
 Seraphine suddenly burst into the room with wild hair, clutching a small pouch. “Wait—take this! It is good luck!”
 Ianthe caught the girl by the back of her dress. “Stop flinging charms at her.”
 “It’s not a charm!” Seraphine cried. “It’s a cookie!”
 Alessia raised her right brow. “A cookie?”
 “For courage!” Seraphine said. “Shaped like a lion! Look!”
 Eryx appeared behind her and sighed. “Eat it, or she’ll cry. Trust me.”
 Alessia took it gently. “Thank you, Seraphine.”
 Seraphine brightened instantly. “You’re welcome, Princess Alessia!”
 Ariadne stepped into the room then, regal and silent, wearing a long cloak of deep gold. Her eyes softened as she looked at Alessia.
 “My love,” she said softly, “are you ready?”
 Alessia sighed. “No. But I’m going anyway.”
 Ariadne smiled faintly. “Then you are ready.”
 Ianthe opened the door fully. “The Lunaris Knight is waiting in the hall.”
 Kael moved instantly to Alessia’s side. “He does not touch her.”
 Ianthe lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think any Lunaris knight wants to die today?”
 Seraphine gasped dramatically. “Maybe he does. Maybe that’s his aesthetic.”
 Eryx dragged her away. “Please stop.”
 Alessia drew one long breath. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s do this.”
 The hallway outside was silent. The Lunaris Knight stood at the far end, tall as a giant, armored in sleek silver-black plates that reflected not light but movement. His helm bore the carved sigil of the Moon King, glowing faintly.
 As Alessia stepped out, his head turned slowly toward her. A soft hum vibrated through the floor—coming from him. A greeting or a warning.
 The knight bowed deeply. “Princess Alessia,” he rumbled. “I will escort you.”
 Kael stepped between them. “I walk beside her, not behind.”
 The knight did not move. “The King permits one guardian.”
 Kael’s voice sharpened. “You don’t decide his permissions.”
 The knight straightened. His visor shifted slightly as though studying Kael. “You are the Shadow Guard. The King acknowledges your loyalty.”
 Kael’s fingers twitched near his dagger. “I need no acknowledgment.”
 Alessia placed a hand on his wrist. He stopped.
 “I’m ready,” she whispered.
 Kael looked at her. The tension in his body eased barely but enough. He nodded.
 The knight stepped back and motioned. “Follow me.”
 The walk to the Lunaris Pavilion was long. The Citadel’s central ring glowed brighter with each step, the luminous currents swirling faster as Alessia approached. She wasn’t sure if it was imagination or real—but it felt like the entire Citadel breathed with her.
 Kael walked close enough that their arms brushed occasionally. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence anchored her.
 They reached a tall archway carved with crescent moons and flowing script. Pale silver vines decorated the pillars, shifting like living light.
 Two Lunaris guards outside straightened as they saw her.
 The knight stopped and turned to Alessia. “Beyond this door, you will stand before the Moon King,” he said. “I remain outside. Your guardian remains outside.”
 Kael’s voice was a low growl. “If she screams—if her luminous flares—if she stops speaking—I break the door.”
 The knight nodded solemnly. “And I will not stop you.”
 Kael gritted his teeth, momentarily thrown.
 Alessia touched Kael’s arm. “I’ll be okay.”
 “You don’t know that,” Kael said.
 “No,” she mumbled. “But I know I won’t be alone.”
 He hesitated. Then placed two fingers beneath her chin and gently tilted her face up toward his. His voice softened. “Come back to me.”
 Alessia nodded. “I will.”
 He slowly released her. She inhaled deeply and stepped through the doors alone.
 The Lunaris Pavilion was cold, silent, and beautiful.
 Moonlight poured through a massive opening in the ceiling, bathing the marble floors in pale silver. Floating orbs drifted lazily through the air, shimmering like stars. The air hummed with quiet power, ancient and profound.
 And at the center—a figure sat upon a crescent-shaped throne, tall, elegant, and ageless. His hair fell in long silver waves. His robes were deep midnight blue, embroidered with constellations that shifted like living galaxies. His eyes—cold, bright, endless—opened as she approached. The Moon King.
 He didn’t rise. He didn’t greet her. He simply watched.
 Alessia forced herself to walk forward, stopping at a respectful distance.
 “Your Majesty,” she whispered.
 A soft hum drifted through the air. “You came,” he said, voice smooth and deep. “Good.”
 Her heart pounded. “You summoned me.”
 “And you answered.” His gaze sharpened. “That alone speaks volumes.”
 Alessia clenched her hands. “Why did you call me here?”
 The Moon King lifted a hand, fingers long and elegant. “Come closer.”
 Every instinct screamed no but she stepped forward anyway.
 When she was within arm’s reach, he studied her face closely—too closely. His gaze seemed to pierce through her bones, her blood, and her luminous threads.
 He spoke softly. “You awakened the world yesterday.”
 Her breath caught. “I didn’t—”
 “You did.” He leaned back. “The Primals visited you.”
 Alessia stiffened. “How do you know?”
 He smiled faintly. “Because I felt it. The air shifted. The balance trembled. Their presence is unmistakable.”
 Alessia forced her breathing to steady. “What do you want from me?”
 The Moon King rose slowly from his throne. His aura pressed down on her like cold starlight.
 “I want to see,” he murmured, “which side of yourself you fear most.”
 Her stomach dropped. “What?”
 “You hold Lux,” he said softly, circling her. “Yet you wield shadow. You are light and dark. Creation and undoing.”
 He stopped behind her. His voice was a whisper near her ear. “You are a contradiction.”
 Alessia trembled. “I’m not—”
 “You are,” he said. “And contradictions break.”
 She spun to face him. “I won’t break.”
 The Moon King tilted his head, almost amused. “We shall see tomorrow.”
 She clenched her fists. “Why warn me? Why bring me here?”
 He stepped closer. A breath away. “Because I want to know,” he whispered, “what you become when you are unmasked.”
 Her chest tightened. “Is that why you want to break me?”
 He slowly lifted her chin with a single finger.
 “No,” he said. “I want to see if you can’t be broken.”
 Her heart pounded. He lowered his hand. “Tomorrow, Princess Alessia, you walk into my domain.” His eyes gleamed. “Do not come timid. Do not come small.” 
 He stepped back, returning to his throne. “Come ready to survive.”
 Alessia answered with determination. “I will.”
 The Moon King’s lips curved faintly. “Then go.”
 The glowing doors opened behind her. Alessia didn’t look back as she walked out.
 The moment the doors shut, Kael was there, grabbing her shoulders. “Alessia, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
 She shook her head quickly. “No. I’m okay.”
 His eyes searched hers. “What happened?”
 She took a deep breath. “He wants to see if I can survive him.”
 Kael went still. Then anger—dark and dangerous—filled him like a rising shadow.
 “Then tomorrow,” he said quietly, “we make sure you do.”
 She nodded. Tomorrow would be the beginning or the breaking and she intended to walk out.