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Every gift was wrong when it wasn’t Brand’s.

Still, Araxis’s power was a sibling to hers in so many ways. That fact probably helped. There was an inherent darkness they seemed to share—a sparkling, evening essence that permeated their many differences. His blood hit her particles differently than almost anyone else’s, as if like recognized like and found the ease in absorption a relief.

Besides, if it all went well, she wouldn’t be partaking from anyone but her blessed mate ever again.

Healing went out like a wave from Lunara’s center, knitting the wreckage of her internal wounds. As ever, she was shocked at the difference in herself. At feeling side-by-side what she’d been fucking living with while Araxis held her prisoner. It was a miracle she was even alive after the ordeal with Night.

Arseholes, all around.

The outward cuts and scrapes and bruises came next, her flesh weaving itself back together. Muscles tightened, her skin glowed, the mass of her hair shone.

And then…

Deep within, part of her shifted. Lunara dove inside of herself, searching, and gasped as she reached the decimated ruins of the well. There, the crumbled walls and leftover debris, the damage…evaporated.

At best, she thought a gift might seal the cracks like mortar and give her something to fill. To work with. But for it to be gone? Just like that?

Panic bloomed and Lunara’s heart turned over, her hands trembling, her breaths coming in pants. She was petrified to call on the moonlight. If it didn’t answer, if this was truly it and she was powerless…

You will still be you. You worth is not in your power.

Tell that to everyone she might have saved with it.

Lunara glanced towards the massive windows. Towards the pink and silver beams dancing over the dark room. On a shaky exhale, she closed her eyes, raised her arms, and⁠—

A yawning void tore open within her. Thirsty. Starving. Her recesses inhaled, gorging on the moonlight, raw power sweeping through every particle to replace the unutterable emptiness. Until she was full to bursting.

The well was no more. In its place was…something else. Something more. No longer contained by anything so rudimentary as walls, but all encompassing. It flowed like water. Burned like fire. Grew like trees. Blustered like wind. It was everything, all at once, crackling in every particle that made her.

Lunara choked on a sob, the relief so stunning that she almost collapsed all over again.

Cry about it later. You have somewhere to be.

Yes she fucking did.

Lunara stood with ease, ready to mist away, when the goblet caught her eye. Resting in the bottom was a piece of blood-soaked parchment, rolled up so small that it was a wonder she hadn’t swallowed it.

She plucked it out and found a note in handwriting almost identical to Brand’s—a complete disaster that took her far longer than it should have to decipher.

They will guide you through the steps.

The last will be to “spill your blessed blood for the Evesong.”

Whatever you do, don’t.

Lunara recoiled, endless theories and possibilities suddenly whirring through her mind.

For all his dragonshite behavior, it was a relief to know that Araxis might not be a total loss. He not only left the gift on purpose, but a warning as well. Of course, it wasn’t spelled out clearly, but it didn’t need to be.

This single note answered quite a few questions she’d posed throughout her life. Explained some key things that never made sense, like Cordelia’s warnings when she was younger. And what was it Araxis said to her before?

“There’s much you don’t understand about how the Evesong works.”

Ah, yes.

Well, now she fucking did.

After Araxis stole Brand’s blood, Lunara had her suspicions. Now, she was certain.