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SELENE

I wander through Orthani’s western courtyard with a silent reverence, taking in the newly repaired pillars and cobblestones.

Just last week, these stones were chipped and bloodstained from the Red Purna’s attack, but now workers and purna refugees labor side by side, patching the cracks with fresh mortar.

I pause near a half-finished shrine, the statue’s features still half-chiseled.

A swirl of satisfaction seeps into me. This city, once determined to destroy my kind, is gradually shifting into something else—tentative acceptance, if not yet unwavering trust.

Tonight marks an anniversary of sorts. Seven nights since the vow ceremony, where I officially promised to protect Orthani rather than overthrow it.

Seven nights since I stood with Vaelith, Zareth, and Eryx at my side, forging an alliance that stunned both purna refugees and Orthani nobility.

King Rython, true to his word, recognized my seat on the council—and though he may still hold cunning strategies close to his chest, I sense he’s committed to preserving the fragile peace.

My footsteps echo on the newly laid stones, the air crisp under the evening sky.

To the left, a handful of young purna practice minor spells, guided by an older teacher who once hid in Orthani’s slums. They stiffen when they notice me, wide-eyed with that blend of awe and relief that I still haven’t entirely gotten used to.

I offer a small smile, and they bow, letting me pass.

The building behind them is the first official lodging of our “quiet refuge”: an unassuming structure where purna can claim space, forging a small coven under my watchful guidance.

Walls that used to echo with Orthani’s scorn now house purna discussions, healing sessions, and lessons in controlling magic.

As I move on, the sense of purpose in me grows.

None of this happened by luck. The city changed because we forced it to—my men and I.

We overcame prejudice, forging new laws.

We hammered out an agreement with King Rython, offering Orthani stability in exchange for purna safety.

Each day, more purna trickle in from the shadows, uncertain but hopeful. Each day, our refuge swells.

I exit the courtyard, slipping into a side passage that leads to Vaelith’s estate.

Overhead, dusk drapes the sky in deep purple.

I recall a messenger’s note from earlier: all is well with Ai, who’s begun studying elemental magic with a gentle old purna mentor.

The knowledge that she’s safe, that she can learn without fear of being dissected or enslaved, eases a lingering knot in my chest.

The estate’s gates stand open; the guards posted outside greet me with polite nods, a far cry from the loathing they once aimed at purna.

My steps quicken as I approach the main hall, passing tapestries still in need of repair.

My men are waiting inside, I’m sure of it.

Each has been about the city today, handling tasks in their own spheres—Vaelith finalizing guard rotations, Eryx scouting the underbelly for any Red Purna stragglers, Zareth monitoring the new wards at the refuge.

Tonight, though, we’re reuniting for something personal: a final affirmation of the vow that binds us.

I cross into the hall, warmed by torchlight.

The hush of evening hushes staff and courtiers, leaving only a few wandering servants who pause to bow.

Their eyes flick with subdued respect. Once, this place might have rung with the clang of forging weapons.

Now, I sense a different tension—quieter, perhaps.

The city’s slow metamorphosis has trickled even here.

At the door to Vaelith’s private chambers, I pause, smoothing a hand over my black-and-silver gown.

A faint charge thrums in my veins, anticipation stirring.

My heart quickens remembering the messenger’s simple note: “At moonrise. The final Oath.” Something about that phrase sets my pulse racing.

We’ve pledged ourselves publicly, but there’s a sense that we all crave a deeper, intimate seal on our bond.

Like a coda to the vow, away from prying eyes, weaving our energies together once more.

I push the door open. The chamber is lit by a ring of lanterns placed strategically around plush couches, the bed, and a wide rug in the center.

The flickering glow reveals three silhouettes.

Eryx leans against a column, arms folded, wearing a dark tunic that highlights his lean strength.

Zareth stands near the bed, posture poised yet watchful, a subtle flush coloring his high cheekbones.

Vaelith stands at the center of the rug, arms at his sides, gazing at me with a calm intensity that makes my stomach flutter.

“Selene,” Vaelith murmurs, voice pitched low. He steps forward, bridging the distance. Eryx and Zareth circle behind him, forming a loose triangle that encloses me. The air hums with tension, each man brimming with a quiet hunger. My chest tightens with warmth, recalling all we’ve survived.

“You’re all here,” I say, letting a hint of teasing slip in. “I was worried you might be off scouring the city for trouble.”

Eryx shrugs, playful sparks in his dark eyes. “I found no trouble that could keep me from you tonight. A rumor or two about old guard conspiracies, but they quake at the mention of your name.”

Zareth nods. “The wards at the refuge hold strong. No purna feels threatened. Everything’s as stable as it can be in Orthani.”

Vaelith rests a hand lightly on my arm, studying my face. “Which leaves us free for this final Oath. You asked us to meet you here, to seal the vow in private. We stand ready.”

I exhale, letting that swirl of desire coil deeper.

“Yes, we made our public vow. But I want us to share something more profound—a personal claiming. A vow not just to Orthani, but to each other.” My voice wavers slightly.

“In the chaos of forging alliances, we never paused to truly celebrate what we overcame as a… family.”

Eryx’s grin softens. “Family. I like that.” He slides closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to my temple. Zareth inclines his head in silent agreement, and Vaelith’s lips quirk in a rare, gentle smile.

I slip from Vaelith’s grasp, glancing around the chamber.

The flickering lanterns highlight a carafe of wine on a low table, four small cups placed neatly beside it.

“Wine, then,” I say, approaching. I pour a measure into each cup.

The fragrance is rich, laced with a faint spice that suggests it came from Orthani’s best stock.

Lifting my cup, I offer it to them, voice steady.

“Let’s toast. May Orthani see us forging unity instead of walls. May our vow remain unbroken.”

They each take a cup, raising it. We drink in unison.

The liquid burns warmly down my throat, a gentle reminder of how life once was in constant strife.

Now, for this moment, we relish a shared peace.

Eryx sets his cup down first, turning to me, a daring glint in his eyes.

“And now the Oath. Show me what you intend, dear queen.”

An electric hush washes through us. I move to the center of the rug, meeting each gaze in turn. “You pledged yourselves publicly, but I want you to speak your hearts. No onlookers, no half-lies, no monarchy. Just us.”

Vaelith inclines his head, stepping onto the rug beside me.

He carefully unfastens a silver clasp at his collar, letting the formal tunic slip from his shoulders.

“I vow to you, Selene, that my blade and my cunning remain yours. No law of Orthani supersedes the vow I give here. Should the city turn on you, I stand at your side. Should the Red Purna return, I shield you. Should your power demand it, I offer my strength willingly.” His voice rumbles with sincerity.

That old warrior discipline merges with a devotion that sends a quiver through my spine.

I reach up, gently brushing my fingertips over his chest. “Vaelith, your vow is accepted. May we never stand apart.”

He bows his head, exhaling softly. Then Eryx nudges closer, shrugging off his own tunic.

The lamplight caresses the lines of his lean body.

“Selene, you dragged me from vengeful shadows into a cause that matters. I vow to keep my blades ready for your enemies and my wit sharpened for your court. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.

” The roguish note in his voice falters at the end, betraying a deeper vulnerability.

I cup his chin, searching his eyes. “I accept your vow, Eryx. Your cunning is as important to me as your devotion. Stand with me, always.”

He breathes in relief, stepping back with a grin.

Zareth is next, untying the sash that secures his black robe.

The robe pools, revealing the etched lines of his torso.

He meets my gaze with quiet intensity. “I vow to you, Selene, that my psionic gift will never be turned against you. My House taught me to break minds; you taught me to bind hearts instead. Should Orthani or any foe threaten, I’ll stand in your name.

No old desire for control overshadows the bond I share with you. ”

My heart clenches at the memory of how we once battled, each trying to subdue the other. “I accept your vow, Zareth. And I vow to let you explore new paths free of old cruelties.”

He dips his head, tension draining from his shoulders.

I swallow, now facing the three of them.

My blood thunders with adrenaline and longing, their bare chests and solemn stares weaving a potent spell.

Setting aside the wine cup, I loosen the ties of my own gown.

The fabric glides down, pooling at my feet.

Lanterns cast dancing shadows over my bare skin, highlighting faint purna markings swirling across my arms.