Aiden's voice cut sharp through the room, low and urgent. "We need to move. Now."
It was already nightfall, and if Carlson truly was the Moon heir, with shadows stalking him, then he was in danger. Previously, he was safe inside the temple, maybe. But now? By this hour, he'd be back at his residence, or the guild. Alone. Unprotected in the way that mattered with the shadows. Vulnerable. And worst of all—probably without the faintest idea of the danger closing in on him.
"We can't waste time sending word to summon him," Aiden continued, pacing once like a caged beast. "Too much risk he'll be ambushed on the road before he even reaches us. We go ourselves, talk to him directly, and then get him inside the temple. Once he's there, the shadows can't touch him."
No one argued. It was sound strategy, the only strategy.
Elliott, however, shifted against the pillows and tried to push himself upright. The effort alone looked like it drained him, and both Gabriella and Aiden reacted instantly—Aiden with hands already on his shoulders, Gabriella with her sharp voice.
"Lie back down," she ordered.
Aiden pressed him firmly back against the bed, tugging the covers up with a care that stood at odds with the hard set of his jaw. He smoothed them over Elliott's chest almost forcefully, like if he tucked him in well enough, the man wouldn't dare try getting up again.
"I need to come with you," Elliott said, breath uneven but eyes steady. "My presence alone is a shield against them. You know that."
"No." Aiden's refusal was immediate, hard as steel.
Elliott blinked. "But—"
"No," Aiden repeated, sharper this time. He realized it and forced his tone to soften, but his hands didn't move from holding Elliott down. "You can barely stand. Your lungs are still raw from the asthma attack, your hands are burnt. You are in no condition to face shadows. Or to travel."
Elliott's lips pressed thin. "But you know any amount of knights or gaurds won't work against them. You can't cut shadows with metal. You need me."
Aiden's gaze didn't waver. "Still no." His voice was lower this time, but still firm. "Don't worry. We'll take relics from the temple. Shadows can be fought with divine relics."
Elliott turned his eyes to Gabriella for support—but found none. Her expression mirrored Aiden's resolve, if only considerably calmer.
"He's right," she said bluntly, though not in an unkind way. "You're frail. In the chaos, you'd be more liability than shield. Rest. We'll be back."
Elliott looked ready to argue further, but the determination facing him from both sides was immovable. And no one knew better than Elliott how stubborn the two people in front of him could be.
Finally, he let out a sigh, sinking back against the pillows. "Fine. But be careful."
---
The temple loomed quiet in the night as Aiden and Gabriella climbed its stone steps. Their movements were brisk, purposeful. Passing priests stole startled glances—some of fear, some of awe. Aiden's earlier fury still hung heavy in the air, clinging to him like a sentient thing, and though Gabriella's presence tempered it, the atmosphere didn't lighten. He ignored them all.
He went straight to the inner chambers, Gabriella close behind. Their steps echoed through the halls until the High Priest himself appeared, robes rustling on the stone floor, face drawn tight with concern—and a flicker of unease.
"Prince Aiden. Queen Mother Gabriella." He bowed quickly, his voice cautious. "To what do I owe this... unexpected visit at such an hour?"
Aiden didn't waste breath on pleasantries. "We need a divine relic. A weapon. Something that can slice, stab—something that can be fought with. Now."
The High Priest went pale. The urgency in the prince's voice left no doubt, yet his reply came halting, frazzled. "I... I apologize, Prince, but I cannot."
Aiden's glare hardened. His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "And why is that?"
The priest wrung his hands, words tumbling out. "The inner reliquary is sealed. By divine law, after a ritual of such magnitude as the Ascension—even if incomplete—the doors must remain closed for a fortnight. The sanctum and the idol must rest. The seal cannot be broken. Not even in the face of calamity."
His voice trembled, but conviction held it upright.
Aiden took a step forward, tension rippling like coiled steel through his frame. The thought of wasting more time, of being denied now, made his blood boil. But before he could press harder, Gabriella laid a steadying hand on his arm.
"I see," she said calmly, though her voice carried its own edge of command. "Then there must be something else. Not within the inner sanctum, perhaps—anything blessed, anything with divine power will serve our purpose. Whatever you have."
The priest froze, eyes darting as his mind raced. Then, as though a spark lit behind them, he straightened. "There is one possibility. Not solar relics, but..."
"As long as it's blessed," Gabriella interjected smoothly.
"Yes," the priest said, nodding quickly. "Lunar artifacts used for dual rituals. They are never kept in the inner sanctum, thus not sealed. Among them, there may be weapons."
Aiden and Gabriella exchanged a look. Lunar relics.
They weren't as effective, no. Relics only reached full strength in the hands of their bloodline descendants. And while a solar relic, even in Aiden's hold who does not have the sun's blood, would have burned shadows into ash, a moon relic... well. It was uncertain.
But uncertainty was better than going in empty-handed.
Aiden turned back to the priest, who looked as though curiosity was eating at him but fear kept him silent. He didn't bother offering explanation. They didn't have the luxury.
"Lead the way," he ordered.
The High Priest led Aiden and Gabriella into one of the outer chambers. Various relics sat in glass cases—books, jewelry, garments. Many radiated a faint energy, sacred in their own right, but most were ceremonial. Some were sharp enough to be used as a makeshift weapon, though none could be strictly classified as one.
Before Aiden could voice his dissatisfaction, the High Priest slipped away into a smaller, inner chamber. The man returned moments later, carrying a long, slender case. He set it down carefully, reverently, and unlatched the clasps. The lid opened with a soft groan, revealing a sword nestled in folds of dark velvet, its glow reflected faintly in the polished silver lining of the case.
"This," the High Priest said with quiet pride, "is the strongest Moon relic we possess. It has been preserved in this reflective case to maintain its power."
He offered the relic forward with both hands. Aiden reached inside and drew the weapon out, testing its weight. He tilted it, shifted his grip, gave it a few slow swings to feel the balance. The weight was perfect—balanced, steady. It felt almost... right, in his hold.
The blade itself was forged of pale, silvery steel, faintly iridescent under the chamber's lamps. Subtle etchings marked the flat of the blade, running down its length in patterns resembling the shifting phases of the moon. The hilt was wrapped in dark velvet dyed midnight blue, moonstones of varying hues studded along its guard. The weapon seemed to glow faintly with an inner light, and as Aiden gripped it tighter, he felt warmth seep into his palm. Not heat—something deeper, softer. As if the sword itself was breathing against him, humming with an ancient, buried energy.
"...must be the divine power," Aiden muttered under his breath.
The High Priest blinked, not catching it. "Pardon?"
Aiden shook his head. "Nothing. Just... it's warm to the touch. As if it carries its own inner warmth. Like a living thing."
The High Priest frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "Warm? That is strange. Every priest who has handled this relic described it as cold—painfully cold, in fact. That is why I fetched these gloves." He produced a pair of thick ceremonial gloves from his sleeve.
Aiden glanced at them once and dismissed them with a shake of his head. "I don't need gloves. It's fine without them. Better grip."
The priest hesitated, clearly unsettled, but nodded mutely. It was known that the sword grew bitterly cold to hold within moments, even for the most devout. But if the prince said it was fine... so be it.
Meanwhile, Gabriella had already begun selecting her own relics. She had taken a cloak, deep black trimmed with silver threads, and a simple moonstone hairpin, both imbued with faint protective charms. She knew Aiden was the only one among them who could truly fight; the weapon belonged with him. Her chosen relics were more subtle— defensive, practical. Shadows didn't swarm in armies. At most, three would strike at once. Dangerous, yes, but still a number an experienced warrior could handle if armed properly.
When Aiden was satisfied with the weight of the blade in his hand, they turned and left the temple together. The night air greeted them with a chill, moonlight glinting off the sword now gripped firmly in his hold.
Their path was already decided— the Myraethra Guild's outpost by the docks. That was where their informants claimed Carlson could be found.
And Aiden, with the moon-forged sword burning faintly in his palm, intended to reach him before the shadows did.
---
AN: So... things are getting serious now. yay. off topic but yesterday, I found one of my plot diaries. and I realized- the original plot of this novel- aka the plot ideas which eventually became this novel. and i realized...how much has changed (at this point it's an entirely different plot. the original novel I planned was going to be like enemies to lovers with a dark phase, an obsessive imprisonment phase, there was going to be a misunderstanding which leads the top to TORTURE the bottom. anyways would y'all be interested in that. it's supposed to be regent x prince (not related ofc)