The confession arrived with no seal.
No name.
Just ink burned into bark, the kind once used by the High Chroniclers before they were abolished. Everyone knew what that meant:
It was old.
It was dangerous.
And it was true.
Within hours, it reached every noble court, every high priest's hands, and even the silent halls of the Temple of the New Moon.
Caelum read it at sunrise.
Myra read it at dusk.
Elara?
She had written every word.
"I, Caelina of the Lupine Blood, daughter of Lycaena and heir to the moon line, write this in the season of my hiding.
Let it be known: my mother did not die naturally.
She was betrayed—by her court, by her inner circle, and by the same bloodline that now seeks to wear her memory like a crown.
She entrusted her final rites to the secret line of the Crescent Keepers, and commanded that no heir be named in her stead—until the true signs returned: the wolf's cry under a blood moon, and the mirror flame that burns without smoke.
I am not that heir.
Neither is the boy they will name.
If you hear this, know that the line has been corrupted. And that those who wear robes of mourning while drinking from poisoned cups must not be followed."
Silence followed the confession's emergence.
Then chaos.
Noble houses once aligned with Myra began pulling back. Others called for a divine inquiry into the child's identity. The Temple declared three days of "fasted meditation," which in palace terms meant: We are unsure whom to back now.
"When the lion and the hyena both claim to guard the sheep, the flock must choose the fence."
In the palace, Caelum stood in the Hall of Tides, holding the confession in trembling hands.
He had not written it.
But the signature—Caelina—was one he recognized.
Lycaena's bastard daughter. Hidden. Forgotten. Smuggled out after the fire.
He had always believed the rumors false.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Zamani, his adviser, whispered, "You must address this publicly."
"If I confirm it, I dethrone the child," he said.
"If you deny it, you bury your conscience."
Caelum turned to the great moon window, its silver light falling across the marble floor.
"I was taught to keep the kingdom whole."
"And Elara?" Zamani asked. "She's doing the same. She's just not asking permission."
Myra was less subtle.
She summoned the head scribe and threw the bark-letter at his feet.
"This is treason inked in fairy tales," she spat.
The scribe trembled. "But it carries the Chronicler's rhythm. Their cadence. This isn't some forgery—"
She silenced him with a look.
Then turned to her spies.
"Find the Crescent Keepers. Kill the real Caelina if she lives. And bring me the one who penned this. Alive."
Her voice cracked like a whip.
"If the drumbeat betrays the dancer, break the drum, not the dancer."
But Myra felt something shift in her chest.
A thread loosening.
This was not just Elara's doing.
This was history rising to choke her.
Elara sat quietly as her generals debated the confession's impact.
"It's working," Sango said. "The eastern nobles are demanding a blood-mark verification ritual."
"That'll take weeks," Adisa noted. "We can strike before then."
But Elara raised her hand.
"No," she said. "Now, we wait."
Zela blinked. "Wait?"
"The kingdom just inhaled truth," Elara said. "Let it settle in their lungs. Let them cough. Let them question."
"Even the clearest water must be stirred before the dirt can rise."
That night, Caelum came to her.
Unarmed.
Uncrowned.
He sat across from her in her hidden quarters beneath the bell tower.
"I read it," he said.
"I know," Elara replied.
"Is it real?"
"Does it matter?" she asked softly. "The people believe it."
Caelum exhaled.
"I want to believe it. I want to believe you."
She looked at him, eyes like dusk before a storm.
"Then stop sitting between truth and tradition. They don't sleep in the same bed."
He said nothing.
She stood.
And for the first time, she kissed his forehead—not as wife.
As farewell.
In the shadows of the Crescent forest, a young woman stepped forward from among the trees. Pale hair. Quiet eyes.
She held a pendant in her hand: Lycaena's original seal.
A whisper escaped her lips as she faced the moonlight.
"I am Caelina. And I am done hiding."