Sera's Pov
The tension from the day still lingered in the air, even as the sun dipped below the horizon. After what had happened between Kael and Lucian, it was clear to everyone that whatever history Kael's weapon carried, it wasn't just any ordinary passed-down blade. The murmurs had lasted longer than expected, but eventually, everyone returned to their own tasks, the training grounds filled with the clang of weapons and the low buzz of conversation.
I, however, remained frustrated. Another day had passed, and I still hadn't found my weapon.
By the time training ended, my frustration had reached new heights. I felt as if I were missing something, like an invisible thread of fate was dangling in front of me, just out of reach. I had watched others confidently wield their chosen weapons, had even seen Kael—of all people—finally hold his own in his hands. But me? I was stuck, grasping at air.
Kael walked beside me as we made our way back to the housing quarters, his usual lazy stride making it seem like the tension from earlier hadn't affected him in the slightest. As always, he was calm, composed—completely infuriating.
"So, still nothing?" he asked, smirking as we got to my room.
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "No."
"Hmm," he mused, his tone far too amused for my liking. "You know, you could always come to my room. We could draft a weapon together—see what your ideal one looks like."
I raised a brow at him. "You offering to draw for me now?"
"I've been known to wield a mean charcoal stick," he said, grinning. "And it's better than pacing around sulking."
"I wasn't sulking."
"You're sulking right now."
I scowled, but it lacked heat. "I don't need your help."
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Is this because I won't let you touch my weapon?"
I gave him a long look. "You've been treating those daggers like it's your firstborn child."
"And you'd drop them at least twice."
"No I wouldn't."
"Totally would."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet, here you are, still talking to me."
I rolled my eyes and opened my door. "Good night, Kael."
He didn't push. Just gave me a small, unreadable smile and said, "Don't stay up all night stewing. The right weapon will come."
Maybe. Or maybe it wouldn't.
I closed the door behind me, peeled off my boots, and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling in silence.
And eventually… I drifted.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in my room.
A familiar landscape stretched out before me—the endless field of stars, the soft, glowing grass, and the comforting warmth that only existed in this space. My dreamscape.
And he was there, waiting for me.
Lucian stood near the lake, his back to me, the reflection of the moon casting silver light across his form. As if sensing me, he turned, those piercing golden eyes locking onto mine. A slow smile curved his lips, and in a few strides, he was in front of me, pulling me into his arms with that familiar ease.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten about me," he murmured against my hair, his voice carrying that teasing edge I had grown to love.
I snorted, leaning into his warmth. "You show up less than you used to."
He hummed thoughtfully, threading his fingers through my hair in slow, lazy strokes. "It's not as easy anymore. Not now that you've met me in real life."
I didn't mind. If anything, it made these moments all the more precious. "I missed you," I admitted quietly.
His arms tightened around me, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Then, he sighed, a warm breath against my temple. "I missed you too, little wolf."
We laid back on the grass together, staring at the vast sky above. I let the silence settle between us, content in his presence. But eventually, my frustration from earlier returned, nagging at the back of my mind.
"Rough day?" he asked eventually.
"Understatement of the century," I muttered.
He chuckled, low and warm. "Tell me."
So I did. About the armory. About how I'd touched every weapon twice over, and not one of them had felt right. How everyone else had found something and how I was starting to feel like I wouldn't make it to the gathering to see my father. I didn't say the part about how much that terrified me, not knowing when next I'd have the opportunity to. I didn't have to. Lucian already knew.
He didn't offer empty reassurances. Just ran his fingers through my hair in slow, soothing strokes that made my eyes flutter closed.
"Sera," he said after a while, "if the weapons in the armory don't feel like you… maybe you should have one made."
I opened my eyes. "I thought about it. But I don't even know what I want."
Lucian hummed thoughtfully. "That's not true."
"I've picked up every weapon I can think of and—"
"I didn't say you haven't tried. I said you do know what you want. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
I rolled onto my side to glare at him, only for his arms to tighten around me, pulling me closer. His grin was maddening.
"Stop being cryptic," I said, poking his chest. "Just tell me."
"I could, but where's the fun in that?"
"You're lucky you're cute."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm cute?"
I huffed. "I think you think you're cute."
"And yet you're snuggled up in my arms," he said smugly, brushing his nose against mine. "Can't be all bad."
"Lucian—"
"Fine, fine," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'll tell you a story instead."
"I swear, if this is another one of your metaphors for something completely unrelated—"
"Shhh." He pressed a finger to my lips. "Once, a long time ago, there was a woman. Fierce. Untouchable. She rode into battle like a storm, unstoppable and wild. They said no man could defeat her. No army could contain her."
"That's dramatic."
"She was dramatic," he agreed. "But effective. She wielded a weapon unlike anything else. A fusion of blade and curve. Half sword, half sickle. Elegant, deadly. It spun through the air like moonlight come alive."
My breath caught. "What was it called?"
He looked at me, eyes gleaming like the stars above us.
"The Lunar Scythe."
The name echoed in my chest. It felt like it belonged to me, or maybe I belonged to it. I couldn't explain it.
"I want to know more," I said softly.
He smiled, brushing a kiss against my forehead. "Of course you do."
"Don't tease."
"I'm not teasing," he said, though he absolutely was. "But I do enjoy your eagerness."
I sat up slightly, resting my hand on his chest. "Lucian. Please."
His expression shifted—just a little.
"Alright, starlight," he said. "I'll tell you everything I remember."
And as I lay back down beside him, head on his shoulder, his voice wrapped around me like a lullaby, telling me more about the weapon.
Things that felt like more than stories.
Things that felt like they had been waiting just for me.