Page 48 of The Moon's Daughter

He’d let the world burn first.

Before meeting Layna, Zarian had merely gone through the motions of life, fulfilling what was expected of him, blindly carrying out what was commanded of him. But now, his heart yearned for something more, a different path—one he could walk alongside her.

But Layna’s trust was broken. Her words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the pain his secrets had caused.

How could he protect her when she saw him as an enemy? He had lost both her trust and respect.

It was a bitter draught to swallow.

Zarian let out a deep sigh. The path ahead was rife with uncertainty, but his resolve was clear. He would protect Layna, and perhaps, in time, find a way to mend the trust that had been broken.

In the quiet of the night, with the moon as his witness, Zarian made a silent vow.

He would stand as the shield against any storm that threatened Layna. For her, he would walk through fire.

To hell with the balance.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Late at night, while the palace slept, Princesses Layna and Soraya crept down dimly lit corridors to the palace library. The high ceiling loomed ominously in the darkness, shadows dancing in the moonlight streaming through the large windows. The familiar, musty scent of old books permeated the air.

With only a lantern to light their way, they navigated through the towering shelves, eyes scanning for any clue about the Medjai or the prophecy.

As they ventured further, past shelves containing histories of kingdoms and volumes of ancient poetry, into the seldom-visited depths of the library, Soraya noticed a peculiar outline on the floor near the back wall, concealed beneath a thick rug. Exchanging a knowing glance, the sisters rolled the rug aside, uncovering a trapdoor.

Together, they hefted the heavy door, its hinges protesting loudly in the stillness of the library. A narrow staircase spiraled downward, beckoning them into the shadows.

Hand in hand, the princesses descended into the darkness.

At the bottom was a large hidden room, a sanctum of forgotten knowledge. Rows upon rows of dusty books and scrolls lay in wait, their secrets untouched. The sisters pushed forward, determined to find answers.

As they explored the shelves, Layna’s eyes were drawn to a section where a symbol similar to Zarian’s tattoo was inscribed on several aged spines.

“Soraya!” she called, her voice echoing in the chamber. “Come, look at these!”

There were manuscripts, bound in leather and adorned with intricate symbols, along with several old, yellowing scrolls.

They sat at a nearby table and poured over the writings. Layna felt the pieces of her past slotting into place—the overheard conversation from her childhood, whispers of a prophecy, and now, her current predicament with Zarian.

One scroll contained a detailed sketch of what appeared to be an orb, its surface shimmering with white filigree. An ominous sensation washed over Layna as she examined it, a chill running down her spine and a sense of foreboding that clung to her heart like a shadow. Though it was warm in the hidden chamber, her skin erupted in goosebumps. With shaking fingers, she rolled up the scroll and placed it aside.

Another text, frayed at the edges, caught her attention. She carefully unfurled it, revealing a script that seemed to dance in the lantern light. The text was written in an ancient dialect, but Layna, well-versed in the old tongues, began to read aloud:

“When darkness seeks to engulf the lands,

The Daughter will rise amidst the sands.

With heart, pure, and courage blinding bright,

She shall wield the ancient, moonlit light.

In her wake, attacking shadows will flee,

Only, then, will the realm be safe and free.

Beneath the night of shadow’s embrace,

The eclipse will reveal her true face.

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