Two weeks later
The joint training exercises were brutal.
Shadowlands warriors and Eastern Territory vampires working together, learning each other's fighting styles, building the coordination they'd need when the real battle came.
It was chaos at first. Old prejudices died hard—werewolves didn't trust vampires, vampires looked down on "lesser" supernaturals, fae kept to themselves.
But gradually, grudgingly, it started to work.
Kieran watched from the command tower as Dante's werewolf units executed a coordinated strike with Draven's vampire stealth teams. Perfect synchronization, using each species' strengths to cover the other's weaknesses.
"They're good," Lyria commented, standing beside him. "Better than I expected."
"Fear is a powerful motivator."
"So is hope." She glanced at him. "You and Rhydian—you're giving them something to believe in. That different species can work together. That bonds between supposed enemies can be stronger than bonds between the same race."
"We're just trying to survive."
"You're doing more than that. You're changing the world." Lyria's smile was fierce. "Even if you don't see it yet."
Movement in the northern sky caught Kieran's attention. Dark clouds, but not natural ones. They moved against the wind, pulsing with sickly energy.
His fae senses screamed warning.
"Lyria. Look."
She followed his gaze, her expression darkening. "Those aren't clouds."
"No. They're not."
They were Zarath's influence spreading. The seal weakening further. And they were moving south.
Toward the Shadowlands.
"Sound the alarm," Kieran ordered, his voice steady despite the terror flooding through him. "Get everyone to defensive positions. And find Rhydian. Now."
Lyria ran.
Kieran's hands began to glow with silver light as his power responded to the threat. This was it. Not the full awakening yet, but close enough. Zarath was testing their defenses, seeing how they'd respond.
"Come on then," he whispered to the approaching darkness. "Let's see what you've got."
The darkness answered.
Tendrils of pure shadow lashed out from the clouds, faster than thought, aiming straight for Kieran.
His moonlight barriers snapped up instinctively, and the shadow recoiled from the light with an unholy shriek.
But it didn't retreat. It circled, probing, testing for weaknesses.
Rhydian burst onto the tower, already partially transformed. "Kieran! Get inside!"
"No. This is what I trained for." Kieran's eyes glowed pure silver now. "Zarath is testing me. If I run, it'll know I'm weak."
"You're not ready!"
"Then I'd better learn fast."
The shadow struck again, from three angles simultaneously. Kieran's hands moved in the patterns Silvara had drilled into him—moonlight shields, light-blades, emotional projection.
He slammed fear into the shadows and felt them waver. Zarath could feel emotion. Could be affected by it.
Good to know.
"You dare?" The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, grinding through dimensions. "Little spark. Little moon child. You think your light can stand against eternal darkness?"
"I think you're afraid of me," Kieran called back. "Otherwise you wouldn't be testing from a distance. You'd come yourself."
Rage flooded through the psychic connection, and the shadows lashed out with renewed fury.
This time, Kieran was ready.
He gathered moonlight in his palms and released it in a nova blast that lit up the entire sky. The shadows screamed and recoiled, dissolving in the lunar radiance.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then, laughter. Deep, ancient, amused.
"Oh, you'll be delicious. Strong enough to be satisfying, weak enough to be consumed. I look forward to our proper meeting, moon child. Very soon now."
The dark clouds dispersed, leaving only normal sky behind.
Kieran collapsed to his knees, the power drain sudden and overwhelming.
Rhydian caught him. "That was incredibly stupid."
"But it worked. I hurt it. I actually hurt it." Kieran looked up at his mate, grinning despite his exhaustion. "It can be damaged. It's not invincible."
"It's also now personally interested in you. You just painted a target on yourself."
"The target was already there. At least now we know I can fight back."
Rhydian helped him stand, and through the bond, Kieran felt it—not just fear for his safety, but pride. Fierce, possessive pride in his mate's strength.
"You're insane."
"You love it."
"I really do."
That night, the war council convened to discuss the shadow attack.
Draven joined via magical projection, his holographic form sitting at the table like he was physically present.
"Zarath is moving faster than predicted," he reported. "My seers estimate three weeks until full awakening. Maybe less."
"Can we strike first?" Dante asked. "Hit it while it's still weak?"
"No," Silvara said firmly. "Attacking a Sealed One before it fully manifests is suicide. It's still connected to its prison, can draw power from the seal itself. We'd be fighting not just Zarath but the ancient magic that's held it for millennia."
"So we wait for it to break free, then fight it when it's at full strength?" Nikolai shook his head. "That's not much better."
"We wait for it to separate from the seal," Silvara corrected. "There's a window—maybe an hour after it breaks free—when it's disconnected from the prison but hasn't fully regenerated its power. That's when moon fae historically struck."
"And died," Kieran added quietly.
Uncomfortable silence.
"We need to stack every advantage we can," Rhydian said. "Kieran, how much stronger can you get in three weeks?"
"Silvara?"
The ancient fae considered. "With intensive training? He could reach Manifestation stage. That would give him the ability to summon moonlight weapons at will, create sustained barriers, and project his consciousness into the emotional realm."
"Will that be enough?"
"Against Zarath? Honestly? I don't know. The Sealed Ones that moon fae successfully defeated were weaker than Zarath. It's one of the stronger entities that was imprisoned."
More silence.
Draven's projection leaned forward. "What if we changed the battlefield? Lured Zarath somewhere that weakens it while strengthening Kieran?"
"Where would that be?"
"The ancient moon temple. In the Luminous Peaks."
Every fae in the room gasped.
"That place is forbidden," Silvara breathed. "No one's been there in a thousand years."
"Exactly. Which means it's untouched. Pure. Still resonating with moon fae magic from its construction." Draven smiled slightly. "I've done my research. Moon temples amplify moon fae powers exponentially. And they naturally repel shadow creatures."
"It's three hundred miles from here," Nikolai protested. "How do we lure Zarath that far?"
"We don't lure it. We bring it." Draven looked at Kieran. "You're what it wants. You lead, it will follow."
"So I'm bait."
"You're the weapon and the bait." Draven's expression was apologetic. "I'm sorry. But that's the reality."
Kieran looked around the table. At Rhydian, whose jaw was clenched with fury. At Lyria, calculating odds. At Silvara, ancient and sad.
They all knew Draven was right.
"Okay," Kieran said. "I'll do it. I'll lead Zarath to the temple."
"Absolutely not—" Rhydian started.
"Yes. We don't have better options. And if the temple amplifies my powers, maybe I'll actually survive this." He took Rhydian's hand. "We both will."
Through the bond, Kieran felt Rhydian's internal war. Every instinct screaming to refuse, to hide Kieran away, to fight this battle himself.
But also the knowledge that Kieran was right. This was their best chance.
"Fine," Rhydian ground out. "But I'm going with you. Every step."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Then it's settled," Draven said. "We have three weeks. Kieran trains to Manifestation stage. I'll coordinate moving our combined forces to the Luminous Peaks. We set up the battlefield on our terms."
"And pray it's enough," Silvara added quietly.
The meeting adjourned, but Kieran felt the weight of what was coming settling over him like a shroud.
Three weeks.
Three weeks to become powerful enough to face an ancient evil.
Three weeks to say goodbye to everyone he cared about, just in case.
Three weeks until his destiny as moon fae came calling.
The nightmares intensified after that.
Every night, Zarath appeared in Kieran's dreams. Sometimes mocking, sometimes raging, sometimes just watching with those star-dead eyes.
"I can taste your fear, moon child. Delicious. Keep training. Make yourself stronger. The better the meal, the more satisfying the consumption."
But Kieran also felt something else in those dreams. The temple. Calling to him across hundreds of miles, recognizing its child coming home.
In his dreams, he walked moonlit halls built of light itself. Saw moon fae warriors from ages past, their spirits still lingering in the sacred space.
They showed him things. Techniques lost to time. Ways of channeling power he'd never imagined.
"You are the last," they whispered. "The final moon child. Bear our legacy well."
"I'm not ready."
"None of us were. But we stood anyway. That's what moon fae do—we stand between the darkness and the light, and we don't move. Even unto death."
"I don't want to die."
"None of us did. But we did it anyway, because someone had to." The spirit-warriors surrounded him, their light merging with his. "You're stronger than you know, last child. And you're not alone. That's your advantage. We fought alone. You fight with a mate-bond anchoring you."
"Will that be enough?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's more than we had."
They faded, leaving Kieran alone in the dream-temple.
Zarath's laughter echoed from the darkness beyond.
"Three weeks, moon child. And then I feast."
Kieran woke gasping, moonlight blazing from his skin so bright it hurt to look at.
Rhydian was already awake, holding him through the power surge.
"Another one?"
"It's counting down. Getting excited." Kieran's voice shook. "It really thinks it's going to win."
"Then we'll disappoint it." Rhydian's voice was absolute certainty. "You're going to surprise everyone, Vihaan. Even yourself."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know you. Know your strength. Your determination. Your stubborn refusal to quit even when everything says you should." Rhydian kissed him softly. "You're going to be magnificent. And you're going to survive. I believe that with everything I am."
Kieran let himself believe it too. Just for a moment.
Three weeks.
They had three weeks to prepare for the impossible.
And somewhere in the Northern Wastes, ancient seals groaned and cracked.
Zarath the Devourer stirred in its prison, counting down the days until freedom.
Until feast.
Until the moon child came to die like all the others.