I haven't truly slept. Not since the duel. Not since Rael walked away from me, leaving those impossible words hanging in the air like a noose.

  Because for once, you deserve a choice.

  They echo through my skull like a curse. I tell myself they don't matter. That none of it does. But sleep refuses me anyway, curling just out of reach—like everything else I don't know how to hold anymore.

  Pale gray light filters through the tall windows, weak and cold. The fire's gone out, and the hearth is just stone now—cold, empty. I sit curled in the window seat, a blanket around my shoulders, though I don't remember putting it there. My body aches with stillness. My thoughts ache worse.

  I keep waiting for someone to make the decision for me.

  But no one comes.

  So when the morning turns from mist to certainty, I rise.

  I don't call for help. I don't ask permission.

  I send for the carriage myself.

  The castle feels quieter than it should. Like it already knows I'm leaving.

  When the maid arrives to say it's ready, she looks surprised. Like she'd expected someone else to give the order. Like maybe, deep down, I'm still a girl waiting for someone to save her from the weight of her own name.

  But not today.

  Today, I save myself.

  I change, fix my hair into a neat braid and walk silently through the halls that no longer belong to me.

  Outside, the courtyard is wet from last night's rain. The sky is a pale bruise above the walls, mist clinging to everything. And there—at the gate—stands the carriage.

  And beside it... Rael.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  He looks as composed as ever. Crisp coat. Sword at his side. The wind tugs at his dark hair, but otherwise, he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches me with that same careful stillness I'm beginning to hate.

  I stop at the top of the steps.

  I don't speak. Not at first. I just look at him.

  This man who dragged me through shadows. Who bled for me. Lied to me. Changed me.

  And now—I'm the one walking away.

  I descend slowly, cloak fluttering in the wind.

  When I reach him, my voice is soft, but steady. "You said I deserved a choice," I say. "So I made one."

  His jaw tightens. "I know."

  "And you're just going to let me go?"

  A flicker of pain shadows his face. "I have to."

  I want to hit him for that. I want to scream and say he's a coward for letting me leave. But I don't. Because I know he thinks this is him keeping his word. That standing here and not begging is the hardest thing he's ever done.

  "Say something," I whisper. "Anything."

  His voice is rough when it comes. "I should've told you the truth, you deserved that much."

  Tears sting. I blink them away, furious.

  "It doesn't matter," I frown, "it wasn't real."

  "It was."

  "No," I hiss. "It was duty. Politics. Guilt. It was always something else first."

  He flinches, and this time I see it.

  "Not always," he says.

  I shake my head, hard. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to pretend this was something sacred when you buried the truth under every snide remark, every kind gesture, every promise you never meant to keep."

  "Selene—"

  "You let me fall for you!" My voice cracks wide open. "You watched me believe in something that was never real!"

  "It was real," he growls, suddenly fierce. "You think it was easy for me? You think I didn't want to tell you everything?"

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Then why didn't you?" I shout.

  Silence stretches, taut and cruel.

  Then—he reaches into his coat.

  And pulls out a familiar book. Worn. Soft.

  The Last Starlit King.

  The one he gave me when I was hopeless.

  I stare at it.

  "Why are you giving this to me?" My voice cracks.

  "Because I no longer need it," he says.

  I take it slowly. Carefully. My hands tremble.

  "And now you're just... what? Giving me a story to read while I disappear?"

  "No," he says quietly. "I'm giving you a piece of mine."

  I look up.

  Our eyes lock.

  And everything... stops.

  Rael swallows hard. "I never planned to care about you. That wasn't part of the deal. I was supposed to get you here. That's all."

  "But?" I whisper.

  "But I broke the rules. I stopped seeing you as a mission. I started seeing you as... you."

  He breathes out like the words took something from him.

  "You were never the footnote, Selene. You were the part that changed the whole ending."

  I fold my arms tight around myself, more to keep from unraveling than anything else. "I don't know if I can forgive you," I say.

  "I don't expect you to," he replies.

  And he steps back.

  Just a little.

  But it feels like an ocean.

  I turn away before I change my mind.

  I climb into the carriage, heart hammering, body cold.

  The door closes with a soft click.

  And Rael doesn't look away.

  Not until I'm gone.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The trees whisper as we pass, their branches like skeletal arms draped in winter's grief. Sunlight filters weakly through the dense clouds overhead, painting the forest in shifting silvers and golds, flickering like ghosts across the carriage walls.

  I sit curled on the velvet seat, knees drawn to my chest, The Last Starlit King open in my lap. My gown pools around me--rumpled, unkempt.

  The road's bumpier now, a vibration of dirt and roots beneath the wheels, mirroring my jagged thoughts. I turn the pages slowly, not to savor them, but because each line feels like pressing my fingers into an open wound--just to know I can still feel something.

  My eyes drift down the page as I read.

  'Will you stay?' The king's voice trembled, swallowed by the silence of the ruin.

  'You've never asked me to,' the moon replied, its light cold and distant.

  'Because I thought asking would make you leave,' the king confessed, his eyes lowering to the shattered ground.

  'And being silent didn't?' the moon's voice lingered, a quiet rebuke.

  '...It was the only way I knew how to hope,' he murmured, the smile that followed bitter and worn, like a star fading into the dark.

  The book trembles in my hands. My vision blurs.

  I don't realize I'm crying until the first tear splashes onto the paper. I wipe it away too late, smudging the ink beneath my thumb. A breath shudders out of me.

  I close the book slowly, hold it tight against my chest, and sink back into the seat like it's the only thing keeping me upright. I don't want to cry. Don't want to feel anything at all.

  But the grief has a voice now. A shape. Written in someone else's pain.

  And that makes it real.

  Makes him real.

  The thought barely settles before the carriage jolts sharply.

  I lurch forward with a gasp, the book slipping from my lap and thudding against the opposite bench before landing face-down on the floor.

  I reach for it and freeze.

  Something's slipped out.

  A folded slip of parchment lies beneath it, my name scribbled on the outside. My brows knit together. Slowly, I pick it up, fingertips tingling. I unfurl it, reading the hastily written letter.

  Selene,

  If the stars wrote stories, they'd craft tales of you in fire. And I-I would be the shadow cast in your wake, grateful just to follow.

  Because being near you, even unnoticed, would be enough.

  I was not made for softness. Not for warmth or light or love. I was made to fight. To bleed. To survive. But then you walked into my world like you belonged in it. And now all I do is crave things I shouldn't.

  You're not just beautiful. You're... undeniable. Not the beauty poets write of, nor the kind ballads sing for. You are the kind that steals the words from their tongues. And gods help me, I can't look away.

  This feeling—this ache that begins and ends with you—it's in my breath when I whisper your name in the dark. It is in the way my chest tightens when you smile. It is tangled in my ribs and coiled beneath my skin, stitched into the fabric of my being like it's always been there. Like it was waiting. You've filled the hollow spaces I swore were empty. And now every sharp, broken edge of me beats for you.

  There are things I can't give you. Things I've lost, or buried too deep to find. I don't know if I'll ever be the man you deserve.

  But I would bleed myself dry trying to become him.

  You see, there's no salvation for creatures like me. No redemption waiting at the end. I am a weapon shaped by war, a monster cloaked in bloodshed. But when you look at me, you make me forget that. You say my name like I'm just a man.

  And that's the cruelest part. Because it makes me wish--desperately--that I was.

  You've etched yourself into my bones and if I could carve you out, I wouldn't. I would carry this ache, cradle it like something precious, because it reminds me that I am still capable of wanting something good.

  I do not know what the end of this story looks like. I do not know if I will be the one standing beside you when it's told.

  But if you ever find yourself lost in the dark--just look behind you.

  I'll be there.

  Not because you asked. Not even because you want me.

  But because some part of me, fractured and feral as it is, already belongs to you, and it doesn't have anywhere else to go.

  I am half man, half monster--but wholly yours.

  --Caelen

  Caelen, not Rael.

  The tears come hard and fast. I'm gasping for air, drowning in the weight of his words, his truth. I want to scream. Want to hate him for making me feel this much. But I can't.

  His true name... he has given me his name.

  I shoot to my feet, heart slamming against my ribs.

  "Stop the carriage!" I don't wait for it to slow before I leap out.

  Finn turns at once, eyes calm like he already knows. He reins the horses to a stop, then looks back at me with a soft, knowing smile.

  "Forget something, princess?" he asks, smirking.

  I can't even speak. I nod, slow and broken. My eyes sting, my chest too full of everything.

  He doesn't ask questions. Just dismounts and prepares a horse.

  I follow him like I'm dreaming, like the world has gone quiet except for the sound of my heart rattling in my ears.

  Finn knows.

  He expected this.

  And I... I don't know where I'm going. I only know I can't stay.

  With one last glance at the carriage, I mount the horse and ride away--chasing answers, chasing air, chasing a name that's shattered everything I thought I knew.

  Caelen.