The training intensified.
Lyria pushed Kieran harder than ever, forcing him to tap into his fae blood repeatedly until it became second nature. His body ached constantly, bruises layering upon bruises, but he could feel himself getting stronger.
Faster.
More dangerous.
"Again!" Lyria commanded, launching another attack.
Kieran's body moved before his mind could process—dodging left, striking right, his practice sword finding her ribs in a move that would have been impossible a week ago.
She grinned, fierce and proud. "There! That's moon fae combat instinct! You're not thinking anymore, you're feeling. Predicting my movements before I make them."
"It's like I can see a second ahead," Kieran panted. "I know where you'll be before you do."
"Exactly. That's the gift and curse of your bloodline. Perfect battle awareness, but it can be overwhelming if you don't learn to control it."
They sparred for another hour until Kieran's legs gave out.
Lyria offered him water, sitting beside him on the training ground. "You're adapting faster than anyone I've trained. Most new supernaturals take months to reach this level. You're doing it in days."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Both. Good because you'll be strong enough to survive what's coming. Bad because rapid power growth can be unstable."
"Unstable how?"
"Your emotions fuel your power. Right now, you're riding high on determination and love for Rhydian. But what happens when you feel rage? Terror? Grief?" Lyria's violet eyes were serious. "Moon fae in the grip of strong negative emotions have been known to level entire cities."
The memory of his dream flashed through Kieran's mind—the burning Shadowlands, himself standing over the destruction, tears falling.
"How do I prevent that?"
"By learning to channel emotion instead of being consumed by it. Come on. There's someone who can help with that."
She led him to a tower in the eastern wing, one Kieran had never visited.
Inside, the air shimmered with magic. Crystals hung from the ceiling, catching light and throwing rainbow patterns across the walls. And in the center of it all sat a figure that made Kieran's breath catch.
An ancient fae woman, her hair silver as moonlight, her skin seeming to glow from within. She looked both young and impossibly old at the same time.
"Kieran Ashford," she said without opening her eyes. "The moon fae child lost and now found. Come closer."
He approached cautiously.
When she finally opened her eyes, they were pure silver—no whites, no pupils, just endless lunar radiance.
"My name is Silvara. I'm the last pure-blooded moon fae in existence. I've lived in this tower for three centuries, waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For you." Her smile was knowing. "The bloodline was nearly extinct. I thought I'd be the last. But then you came—diluted blood, but moon fae nonetheless. And the Beast King's bond awakened what should have been dormant forever."
"Can you teach me? How to control it?"
"I can teach you how to survive it. Control comes from within, from accepting what you are." She gestured for him to sit. "Close your eyes. Feel the power inside you. Don't fight it, don't suppress it. Just... feel."
Kieran obeyed.
Immediately, he sensed it—a well of silver light inside his chest, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. It was beautiful and terrifying, vast and overwhelming.
"That's your fae core," Silvara's voice came from far away. "The source of your power. Right now it's wild, untamed. You need to shape it, give it form and purpose."
"How?"
"By connecting it to your anchor. Your mate bond. Feel that too—the golden thread that ties you to Rhydian. See it?"
He did. A glowing line leading from his heart out into the world, stretching toward wherever Rhydian was.
"Now, weave them together. Silver and gold. Your power and your bond. Let them support each other, strengthen each other."
Kieran reached for both—the silver light and the golden thread. Brought them together.
The moment they touched, power exploded through him.
He gasped, eyes flying open, and realized he was glowing. Soft silver light emanated from his skin, from his eyes, casting the tower in lunar radiance.
"Perfect," Silvara breathed. "You've taken the first step. Your power is now tied to your bond. As long as Rhydian lives, as long as your love remains true, your power will never consume you. It will simply... be."
The light faded, leaving Kieran breathless but exhilarated.
"This is what I am? What I can become?"
"This is only the beginning." Silvara stood, moving with impossible grace. "Moon fae have three stages of power. Awakening—which you've just achieved. Manifestation—where you can call moonlight as a physical weapon. And Apotheosis—where you become moonlight itself, transcending physical form for brief moments."
"That last one sounds impossible."
"It is, for most. Only three moon fae in history achieved it. But you have advantages they didn't—a mate bond with one of the most powerful hybrids ever born, and a will forged by years of hunter training." She smiled. "You might surprise us all."
Over the next days, Silvara taught him to meditate, to channel his emotions through his fae core instead of letting them run wild. She showed him how to sense danger before it manifested, how to read the emotional states of those around him, how to project calm or confidence or fear when needed.
Every session left him exhausted but more in control.
By the fifth day, he could call forth moonlight on command—soft glows that lit darkness, or blazing radiance that made vampires flinch and shield their eyes.
By the sixth day, he'd manifested his first moonblade—a weapon of pure light that felt more natural in his hands than any silver sword ever had.
By the seventh day, Silvara declared him ready.
"You're not fully trained. That would take years. But you're competent enough to survive Lord Draven's games." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember—your power is tied to emotion. Use that. Don't fear it."
"Thank you. For everything."
"Thank your mate. He's the one who asked me to teach you. Been pestering me for weeks to come out of my tower." Her smile was fond. "He loves you very much, you know. Enough to face his fear of what I represent."
"What do you represent?"
"The past. When fae magic was wild and untamed, when creatures like him were hunted and exterminated. I'm a reminder of genocides and ancient wars." Her silver eyes dimmed. "But he set aside his fear because you needed me. That's true love."
Kieran found Rhydian that evening in their chambers, staring at maps of neutral territory where the meeting would take place.
"Silvara told me," Kieran said softly. "About how you asked her to train me. Despite your history."
Rhydian didn't look up. "You needed the best teacher. She was it. My discomfort was irrelevant."
"It wasn't irrelevant to me." Kieran moved behind him, wrapping arms around that strong torso. "Thank you. For putting my needs above your fears."
Finally, Rhydian turned, pulling Kieran into a proper embrace. "Always. For you, always."
They stood like that for long moments, just holding each other, the bond humming contentedly between them.
Tomorrow, they'd face Lord Draven.
Tomorrow, everything could go wrong.
But tonight, they had this. Each other. And love strong enough to face any darkness.
The neutral meeting ground was an ancient stone circle deep in unclaimed forest.
Magic thrummed in the air—old power, predating vampires and werewolves, predating even the fae. This place had been sacred for millennia, and ancient law forbade violence within its bounds.
Theoretically.
Rhydian arrived with a small guard—Lyria, Nikolai, Dante, and Kieran. Five against whatever Lord Draven would bring.
They waited in tense silence as dusk fell.
Then they came.
Vampires emerged from the trees like living shadows. Dozens of them, though ancient law said only five could enter the circle. They spread out around the perimeter, a show of force meant to intimidate.
It worked. Kieran felt his heart rate spike.
But he also felt his fae power respond, rising to meet the threat, silver light beginning to glow beneath his skin.
"Easy," Rhydian murmured, his hand finding Kieran's. "Don't let them provoke you. That's what they want."
Kieran breathed, centering himself the way Silvara had taught.
The glow faded to manageable levels.
Finally, Lord Draven entered the stone circle.
He was everything the legends said—tall and aristocratic, with midnight black hair and eyes like frozen blood. He moved with the absolute confidence of someone who'd lived for over fifteen hundred years and feared nothing.
With him came four other vampires, each radiating ancient power.
They faced each other across the circle.
"Beast King," Draven greeted, his voice smooth as silk and cold as death. "Thank you for accepting my invitation."
"Lord Draven. Let's skip the pleasantries. Why did you call this meeting?"
"Straight to business. How refreshingly barbaric." Draven's gaze slid to Kieran, assessing. "I wanted to see for myself. The fae-blooded hunter who captured the uncapturable king's heart. The moon fae awakening in the modern age. Quite the curiosity."
Kieran met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated.
"He's not a curiosity. He's my mate."
"So I've heard. A bond I thought impossible—a hybrid like you shouldn't be capable of mate bonds. Yet here we are." Draven smiled, showing fangs. "It raises interesting questions about what other impossibilities might occur."
"Get to the point."
"Very well. The point is this: your Shadowlands has become too powerful. You've united outcasts, killed Marcellus, formed alliances with reformed hunters. You're disrupting the balance of power that's existed for centuries."
"That balance was built on oppression and fear. It deserved to be disrupted."
"Perhaps. But here's what you don't understand, young king. That balance was holding back something far worse than vampire politics." Draven's expression turned serious. "There are older powers than us. Ancient things sealed away millennia ago. And the magical equilibrium we maintained was part of what kept them sealed."
Kieran felt ice flood his veins. This was bigger than vampire lord politics.
"What kind of ancient things?" Rhydian demanded.
"The kind that make vampires and werewolves look like children playing at danger. The kind that moon fae like him—" Draven pointed at Kieran, "—were specifically created to fight against."
Silvara's words came back to Kieran: You have advantages they didn't. You might surprise us all.
"You're saying my awakening is connected to these ancient threats?"
"I'm saying your awakening might be because of them." Draven's voice was grave. "The universe doesn't create moon fae on a whim. They only appear when the world faces extinction-level threats. And you, diluted bloodline notwithstanding, are manifesting power at a rate that suggests something catastrophic is coming."
"This is convenient," Lyria said skeptically. "Fear-mongering to make us submit to your authority."
"Is it? Then explain the earthquakes in the Eastern Territories. The rifts opening in the Southern Wastes. The reports of creatures emerging that haven't been seen in three thousand years." Draven's eyes gleamed. "Something is waking. And when it fully emerges, vampire lord politics won't matter. Shadowlands vs Eastern Territories won't matter. We'll all be fighting for survival."
Silence.
Rhydian's hand tightened on Kieran's. Through the bond, Kieran felt his mate's turmoil—suspicion warring with dawning realization.
"What do you want from us?" Rhydian asked finally.
"An alliance. Not submission—true partnership. The Shadowlands' forces combined with the Eastern Territories' resources. Your hybrid power and his moon fae awakening, backed by my ancient knowledge and armies." Draven stepped forward. "Work with me to prepare for what's coming. Or refuse, remain enemies, and watch the world burn around us as we squabble."
"And if this is a trick? A way to get us to lower our guard?"
"Then I'm wasting resources on an elaborate ruse when I could simply wait for these ancient powers to destroy you for me." Draven's smile was sharp. "But I'm not. Because contrary to what you believe, I don't want to rule ashes. And that's what we'll all become if we don't act."
Kieran felt his fae senses expanding, reading Draven's emotional state. The vampire was ancient, guarded, but underneath the cold exterior—
Fear. Genuine, bone-deep fear.
Whatever was coming, Draven truly believed it could destroy them all.
"We need time to discuss this," Rhydian said.
"Of course. I'll give you three days. After that, with or without you, I begin preparations." Draven turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and one more thing. Your prophetic dreams, moon fae child. They'll get stronger. More frequent. Pay attention to them. They're not just showing you possible futures—they're warnings from something trying to help us survive."
He left with his entourage, disappearing into the trees like smoke.
Kieran and Rhydian stood in the ancient circle, processing what had just happened.
"He was telling the truth," Kieran said quietly. "My fae senses—I could feel it. He's genuinely terrified."
"Then we have a problem far bigger than vampire politics."
"What do we do?"
Rhydian pulled him close. "We go home. We talk to our people. And we figure out how to prepare for the apocalypse while dealing with an alliance we can't fully trust."
As they left the stone circle, Kieran felt his fae core pulse with warning.
His prophetic dreams would get stronger, Draven had said.
He had a feeling the nightmares were just beginning.