Chapter 6 — "Reflections in Shadow"
The palace never slept. Even when torches guttered low and servants whispered behind closed doors, its corridors hummed with secrets, as though the stones themselves listened. Selene moved along these corridors with the quiet precision of a shadow, the coin from the west fountain folded in her hidden pocket. Every step reminded her that the game had changed — no longer merely survival, but pursuit.
The Serpent's warning from the garden lingered in her mind: not everything you rescue from the past will be safe to keep. She clenched the crescent mark against her chest. Memories had been lost. Visions had been exacted. But now, knowledge had been bought — the truth of Eira's betrayal was no longer a shadow, it was tangible, solid, yet prickling with threat.
Selene's gaze flicked to the mirrors lining the Grand Hall. Their polished surfaces reflected more than the candlelight; they reflected intention. In each pane, she saw herself multiplied: her silver eyes, the crescent glowing faintly, the tension coiled in her shoulders. In one, she imagined Kael's reflection whispering, dark wings arching behind him.
The hall doors opened softly behind her. Lucien's presence arrived not with a noise, but with a pulse in the air. "You've gone further than I anticipated," he said quietly. "Following the coin, the letter… You step onto a path most cannot return from."
Selene turned to him, her jaw tight. "I am not most, Lucien. And if I do not follow, someone else will. Someone who wants the Moon's power for themselves."
He studied her, eyes shadowed with both worry and resignation. "The Prince," he said at last. "You saw him in reflection… but reflections are rarely honest. Shadows move with their own will. Be careful of him. He may not be the one you think he is."
Selene's lips twitched into something resembling a smile. "Then I will unmask him in time. First, I must find the source that moves the shadow." She stepped past him, heading toward the inner wing where the archives of the court lay hidden behind walls of ink and vellum. Every secret her enemies thought buried would rise here if she were clever enough to reach it.
A sudden chill brushed her neck. She stopped, hand brushing the dagger hidden beneath her gown. From the darkness emerged a figure in silk, movement fluid, voice as soft as the wind through reeds: the Serpent.
"You should not be alone," she said, voice folded in careful neutrality. "But I cannot stop you either. You move faster than I anticipated."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Then you are no longer my obstacle, only my witness. If Eira planted coins and letters, you know more than anyone here."
The Serpent inclined her head. "I know much. And yet, nothing that will save you if the wrong coin flips."
Selene stepped closer, the silk and shadow of the woman barely separating them. "Then I will make my own flips."
They stood like predators circling in a cathedral of mirrors. And in that tense silence, Selene realized the truth: she did not need the Serpent's permission. She needed her cunning, her mark, and the courage to strike first.
From the deepest recess of the hall came a whisper — not audible, but felt — a warning that someone watched, someone who knew both her step and her hesitation. Selene turned sharply, only to find the shadows empty. Still, the Crescent Mark throbbed hot against her chest.
She pressed a hand to it. The Moon watches. The Moon tests. But I… I choose.
The Serpent's eyes glimmered like black pools. "One night, the Moon will favor a hand too bold. Perhaps that night is yours. Or perhaps it is your undoing."
Selene's smile was thin, sharp as a blade. "Then let the night decide. I have plans of my own."
The Serpent's figure melted into the corridors, leaving only the faint scent of jasmine and ink. Selene pressed forward, toward the archives, toward the knowledge that would illuminate the shadow of Kael's whispered reflection, and toward the sister whose betrayal had set all this in motion.
In the mirrors, she glimpsed herself again: silver eyes glinting, crescent pulsing, and the faintest trace of fire threading through her expression. The palace listened. And for once, Selene intended to make it fear what it had ignored.