Six Months Later…

The morning sun spilled through the arched window, liquid gold pooling on the marble floor. It caught in the dust motes dancing in the air, turning them into a thousand tiny stars. In the mirror’s reflection, Amelia’s hands moved with a familiar, soothing rhythm, weaving strands of my hair into an intricate coronation braid. I watched the focused calm on her face, a placid island in the sea of my own fluttering nerves, and a smile bloomed on my lips, genuine and unbidden.

Her eyes, the color of emeralds, met mine in the glass. “What has you smiling like that?” she asked, her voice a soft melody.

“Just…this,” I breathed, gesturing vaguely at the room, at her, at the dawn of this impossible day. “I remember a time when I thought I’d never feel the sun on my face again. And here you are, by my side, just as you always were.”

A knowing warmth filled her expression. “There was never a future I imagined that didn’t have you in it, Thalia. Though,” she added, her fingers gently tucking a final pin, “you have the look of a woman about to face death, not a crown.”

A flush crept up my neck, a traitor to my composed exterior.

“Ah, there it is,” she chuckled, her laugh like wind chimes. “Nerves are good. It means you understand the weight of this day.” She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over me with pride. “Do you know when Cassius and the Elves will arrive?”

“Soon,” I replied, my gaze drifting to the window. “He’s bringing them through a portal directly to the city.” I leaned closer to the glass, looking down upon the city. “How does it look from the ground?”

“Like hope, given stone and timber,” Amelia said, her voice brimming with a fierce pride that mirrored my own. “More families return with every sunrise, their tools in hand, ready to rebuild. The new market is nearly complete. Everything is healing.”

“If we continue at this pace, we could be whole within the year.”

“I agree, Princess.” She paused, a deliberate, sparkling silence hanging in the air before she spoke again. “Although, I believe the proper address is ‘Your Majesty.’ Today, you are Queen.”

Her face lit up with a joy so pure it stole my breath. “To think I would live to see this day.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. She gave a final, approving nod.

“You are ready. I will leave you for a moment.” With a bow deeper and more formal than usual, she slipped from the room, leaving me alone with my reflection.

I rose and walked to the grand window, pressing my palm against the cool glass. The city was a tapestry of old scars and new life. The skeletal remains of burned-out buildings stood next to the bright, fresh-sawn timber of new homes. Scaffolding clung to the castle walls like determined vines, a promise of restoration. This wasn’t just rebuilding; it was a defiant bloom of life in the face of utter desolation.

The air beside me fractured, shimmering like heat-haze over glass before tearing open into a swirling vortex of gold and white light. The scent of ozone and distant forests filled the room as Cassius stepped through, the portal collapsing into silence behind him.

“Hello, Thalia,” he said, his voice a low, warm current that settled my racing heart.

He closed the distance between us in two long strides, his presence filling the space. “It’s been an entire day,” I teased, my heart doing a wild flutter against my ribs. “Did you miss me?”

“An eternity,” he murmured, his eyes—the color of the ocea —tracing the lines of the circlet in my hair. “You are radiant.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with the sun bloomed in my cheeks. “And you look rather regal yourself.” He wore ceremonial Elven armor of polished silver and dark leather, finely tooled and elegant.

He smiled, a slow, captivating curve of his lips. “I thought the occasion warranted it.” His gaze shifted to the window, to the sprawling city below. “I still struggle to believe it. That we are here. That we won.”

As if summoned by his words, a sound began to rise from the city—a low, resonant hum that blossomed into a full-throated anthem. It was a song I didn’t know, yet it felt ancient and new all at once, sung by a thousand voices, human and Elven, woven together. We moved to the window as one, looking down at the immense crowd gathering in the grand square, a vibrant sea of people at the castle gates.

Cassius leaned in, his breath a warm whisper against my ear. “They are singing for their Queen.”

My heart swelled, a painful, beautiful ache in my chest. I looked up at him, into the depths of his eyes. “No,” I corrected softly. “They are singing for us. For our future. This is not my day, Cassius. It is ours.”

A look of such profound love crossed his face that it made me breathless. “Of course, you are right.”

A sharp knock on the door broke the spell. Amelia peeked inside, her face alight with an almost frantic excitement. “It is time. Everyone is waiting.”

“We are coming,” Cassius answered, his voice steady.

I turned to go, but his hand gently caught my wrist. He drew me back until my chest was flush against his, his gaze intense. “Wait,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a raw, intimate timbre. “One last kiss before I have to share you with the world.”

My eyes darted to the doorway, but Amelia had already vanished, granting us the moment. I turned my focus back to him, to the only thing that mattered.

“I love you, Thalia,” he breathed, and leaned down as I rose on my toes to meet him. Our lips met in a kiss that was both a solemn promise and a bittersweet memory, a desperate, beautiful claiming that stole the air from my lungs.

The anthem from the crowd swelled, the triumphant sound vibrating through the floor beneath our feet. I pulled back, gasping for breath. “Cassius…”

“I know,” he sighed, releasing me with visible reluctance. He held out his hand.

I laced my fingers through his, and together, we walked down the long corridor. Scars from the final battle still marred the stone walls—blackened scorch marks and deep gouges in the marble. But today, sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the imperfections not as wounds, but as the proud scars of survival.

As we reached the towering doors of the grand entrance, the chorus outside reached a crescendo. We heard Amelia’s voice ring out, amplified by magic, cutting through the symphony of song. “People of Tirilla! People of Aelindoria!” The wave of sound receded, hushing into an expectant silence, leaving only the thunder of my own heart in my ears. I felt Cassius squeeze my hand, his strength a silent anchor.

Then, Amelia’s voice soared, clear and triumphant.

“I present to you, your Queen and your King!”

The doors swung open. We were hit by a wall of sound and light—a physical force that staggered me. For a heartbeat, all I could see was blinding, glorious sun. Then, my vision cleared, and the roar of the crowd washed over us—a deafening, joyous, unified celebration. The square was a living ocean of faces, Elven and human standing shoulder to shoulder. Banners of both our kingdoms flew side-by-side, their colors brilliant against the sky. Children perched on their parents’ shoulders, their small faces alight with wonder.

My gaze swept the crowd and found Liora and Lyra near the front, their faces streaked with happy tears. Liora caught my eye and waved with such uninhibited joy it sent a fresh wave of emotion through me. I offered her a grateful, watery smile before turning my focus back to the endless sea of our people.

Amelia stepped forward and discreetly passed me a small, silver artifact that hummed with latent power. I lifted it to my lips.

“Thank you,” I began, and my voice, clear and strong, carried over the square, silencing the roar to a murmur. “Thank you for being here. To see you all, standing together, fills our hearts with a hope we once thought lost forever. This day will be written in our histories. Our children will sing songs of this moment for generations. Today, we are no longer two peoples living in the shadow of an old war.”

I paused, taking a deep breath, feeling Cassius’s hand tighten around mine.

“Today,” I declared, my voice ringing with unshakable conviction, “we lay the first stone of a new world. Together!”

A Note from the Author

It’s hard to believe Thalia’s story is complete. I’m feeling so grateful for everyone who has joined me on this adventure. It was a true joy to write, and I hope you enjoyed spending time in her world.

For those of you who have been with me since Lyra’s story, a special and heartfelt thank you. And for everyone who takes the time to leave a comment, please know that you make my day and inspire me to keep going.

If you’re wondering what to read next, I have a couple of suggestions! New readers can see where it all started in The Shadowed Path of Lyra. And for those who are all caught up, a new journey and world await.

I’m so excited to announce my new fantasy series, Through Moonlit Shadows!

This has been a true labor of love, and what started as one story has grown into a planned 3-4 book series. The first book is out now!

For behind-the-scenes content, updates, and other insider details, you can follow me on Ko-fi or Discord. All my content there is completely free—I believe in sharing the journey with you, no paywalls!

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/kalirae

Discord: https://discord.gg/FGHQTYu8yM

Now, for the part you’ve been waiting for. Here is a first glimpse into the world of Through Moonlit Shadows…

I settled on a thick branch overlooking the path of destruction, my eyes scanning the darkness. The next Walker that emerged was different. It didn’t rush. It flowed from the shadows with a terrifying deliberation, its body held low in a hunter’s crouch. This one was larger than the others, its muscles coiling and uncoiling with lethal grace. An alpha.

Suddenly, its head snapped up. There was no searching, no sniffing the air. Its glowing eyes pierced the shadows and locked directly onto mine. The air crackled. It knew.

A low growl rumbled from its chest, a sound that vibrated through the wood of my perch. Then it launched itself at the tree. Massive claws, thick as daggers, gouged deep furrows in the bark as it tried to climb. I had my bow out in an instant, an arrow nocked and drawn before it had scaled ten feet. The shot was perfect, aimed for its eye.

Instead of falling, the creature flinched. A flicker of irritation crossed its burning gaze, and its climb became more furious. A cold dread, sharp and sudden, pierced my confidence.

I drew again, shifting my target. Between the ribs, where the heart should be. I released. The arrow found its mark. The beast let out a sharp yelp of pain and stumbled back a single, crucial step.

There was no time to draw, no time to aim. There was only the fall. With another arrow clutched in my fist, I dropped from the branch.

I landed hard on its back, the impact driving the air from my lungs. I used the momentum, plunging the arrow deep between its shoulder blades. The sickening warmth of its blood flooded my hand. The Crescent Moon Walker became a hurricane of muscle and claw, bucking and thrashing, trying to tear me from its back. I slung my bow aside, gripped the arrow shaft with both hands, and squeezed my legs tight around its heaving body. I roared with the effort, driving the arrowhead deeper with every ounce of my strength.

The beast’s massive body gave a final, violent shudder. It let out a choked gasp—a tearing sound that seemed to rip the air itself—and began to topple. I shoved myself away, scrambling for distance as its immense weight crashed to the ground.

I landed in a crouch, my breath ragged, my body screaming. My eyes darted through the darkness, searching. In the distance, the sharp snap of another trap echoed through the woods.

High ground. Now.

I scrambled up the nearest tree, hauling myself into the relative safety of the canopy. The eerie quiet returned, more unsettling now than the howls. Slowly, cautiously, the Chitterwings began to drift back to their perches, their long, scaled bodies and iridescent feathers soaking in the ghostly moonlight. The silence was absolute. The usual hum of insects, the rustle of night creatures—all of it was gone. The air itself felt frozen.

A sudden, unnatural chill washed over me, raising the hair on my arms. It was followed by a screech from above, a sound that didn’t just enter my ears but vibrated deep in my bones.

My head snapped up. Every instinct I had screamed wrong.

Something blotted out the moons. A living mountain of scale and shadow, descending from the heavens.

A dragon.