The halls of the eastern wing felt too bright.
Sunlight spilled across marble floors, warming the stones under my bare feet, filling the palace with the soft chorus of servants opening windows and dusting tapestries. It should have been comforting.
But all I felt was the echo of the night I died.
My fingers trailed along the wall as I walked toward the dining hall, the faint chill of the stone grounding me. Every corner I passed carried a memory from my old life—some harmless, many painful.
I had walked through this palace blind the first time, believing every smile, trusting every word, thinking danger only came from outside our walls.
Now I knew better.
Danger had slept beside me.
Danger had braided my hair.
Danger had worn my ring.
Danger had called me sister.
As I stepped through the marble archway into the dining hall, a familiar voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
"Aura!"
My father stood from the head of the long table, smiling so widely that his eyes crinkled. His heavy sapphire robes glimmered in the morning light. He looked younger, stronger than he ever had in the final years—before the council's pressure crushed him.
Before they poisoned him with responsibility he never asked for.
Before he died alone.
I froze in place.
"Come, my child," he said, already walking toward me. "You're awake late today. Are you feeling well?"
I wasn't ready.
Not for this.
Not for him.
"Aura?" His hand brushed my cheek, warm, alive. "You look pale."
I swallowed hard and forced my voice steady.
"I'm alright, Father."
He softened instantly, like he always had. "Sit. Eat something."
I obeyed because I didn't trust my legs to stand any longer. The chair beneath me felt too solid, too real. The taste of honey tea on my tongue made my eyes burn.
He was here.
Alive.
Unhurt.
Not dead at a council table with a forged note pinned under his hand, declaring his 'final orders.'
My throat tightened painfully.
"Is something troubling you, Aura?" he asked gently.
Before I could answer, a soft voice floated in from the doorway.
"Oh, Father, you know how she gets. She's nervous about the banquet."
Arcelia.
I didn't have to turn to know she was smiling. Her smiles were always sugar on the outside and rot on the inside.
She glided toward the table, her pale-blue gown fluttering behind her. Today her hair was braided with tiny pearls—an angelic display that hid the devil beneath.
Last life, she had held me while I cried, kissed my forehead, and called me her "little moonbeam."
Then she stabbed me through the heart.
Now she pulled out the chair across from me with perfect grace.
"Aura," she cooed, reaching for the grapes, "you really should sleep earlier. You know you get those strange dreams when you don't."
Dreams.
The word struck me like a blade.
Arcelia had been fascinated with my 'dreams' since childhood—my visions, my moon-whispers, the strange sensations that sometimes crashed over me like tides.
She once said she envied me.
She didn't envy me.
She feared me.
Because even at sixteen, I'd heard something she couldn't.
I smiled sweetly. "Yes. Dreams are strange. Some feel so real they follow you into the morning."
Her hand paused over her plate.
Just a flicker.
Barely noticeable.
But I saw it.
"Aura," she said softly, "what did you dream last night?"
My father looked up too, interest warming his expression.
They expected the old Aura.
The nervous Aura.
The trusting Aura.
I folded my hands on the table and whispered,
"I dreamt of the moon."
Arcelia's lips parted.
Father's brows lifted.
Kael, slipping into the hall behind them, stiffened.
Good.
"It was red," I added quietly. "Like it was bleeding."
A servant dropped a spoon.
Arcelia let out a soft, nervous laugh. "Aura, don't say such strange things at the table."
"Why not?" My voice was calm. "It felt… significant."
Kael stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Do you still hear the voices, Aura?"
My heartbeat skipped.
I had forgotten how much he knew of my childhood secrets.
How much I had told him.
How much I had trusted him.
But that was before he watched me die.
"Sometimes," I said softly. "Do you?"
He blinked.
The entire table went silent.
Before the tension could thicken further, my father clapped his hands lightly.
"Well," he said, forcing cheer into his voice, "dreams aside, we must discuss the guests for the engagement banquet—"
A guard burst into the hall.
"Your Majesty! A report from last night's patrol!"
Father straightened. "Speak."
The guard bowed low. "The western forest… there were lights again."
A cold shiver crawled up my back.
Lights.
"The same as the last time?" Father asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty. And the men swear they heard whispers."
Soft murmurs rippled through the hall.
Arcelia's fingers tightened around her goblet.
Kael's eyes shifted to me.
Father's jaw clenched.
Whispers.
I knew those whispers.
I had heard them.
In my first life.
I had ignored them then.
Not this time.
Father waved a dismissive hand. "The men must be exhausted. We will investigate later."
I inhaled slowly.
"No," I said.
Every head turned.
Father blinked. "Aura?"
"Send someone now," I said carefully. "Before the trail grows cold."
Arcelia's eyes narrowed.
Kael's brows pulled together.
Father studied me, a shadow of concern returning. "Why are you so interested in this?"
Because last time, those whispers had been ignored—until the blood moon rose and ripped open the sky.
Because those ruins held the truth about me.
And the thing that brought me back.
But I only said, "I have a feeling."
Arcelia scoffed, masking it with a delicate cough. "Feelings aren't evidence."
"No," I agreed, locking eyes with her. "But ignoring them can be deadly."
A sharp silence fell.
Kael leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "Aura… what exactly did you dream last night?"
My gaze drifted to him—
to the man who once kissed my tears away,
then watched me bleed.
I let my smile return, soft and haunting.
"Something I wasn't supposed to remember."
Kael's breath caught.
Arcelia's fingers trembled.
Father frowned deeply.
Good.
Let them wonder.
Let them fear the cracks in the world the moon had made for me.
Before anyone could speak again, the air shifted—
a faint, cold disturbance, like a breeze in a sealed room.
I felt it before I saw it.
A tremor under my skin.
A whisper brushing the inside of my skull.
You returned.
My blood froze.
Kael glanced around, oblivious.
Arcelia stiffened, sensing something but unable to name it.
But I knew.
The voice that had called me out of death was here—
watching.
Somewhere in this palace, hidden between shadows and stone,
something had followed me back.
I rose slowly from the table.
"Aura?" Father asked.
I forced a smile. "Just stepping out for fresh air."
Arcelia stood instantly. "I'll come with you."
"No," I said gently, but firmly. "I need to think."
She hesitated.
Kael's eyes searched my face.
Father looked troubled.
But I didn't wait for them.
I walked out of the hall, the weight of the blood moon's promise pounding in my chest.
Down the corridor, a long shadow stretched and shifted—
as if welcoming me.
Game on, I thought.
This life would not be like the last.
This time, the shadows whispered to me.
And I whispered back.