The Ritual Ceremony
They gave her one night.
Just one night to prepare for a ritual that could expose her as heir—or destroy her completely.
Elara stood barefoot in the gardens behind Moonstone Keep, the cold stone beneath her feet grounding her. The stars above Eldoria were closer than any she had ever known, and the moon felt... sentient. Like it was watching her.
Kael stood behind her, quiet. He hadn't spoken much since the Council meeting.
“Do you think I’ll survive it?” she asked softly.
His voice was low. “That test wasn’t about survival. It was about acceptance. This one is different.”
She turned to him. “How?”
“This one doesn’t care if the Council believes in you,” he said. “It cares if the blood in your veins matches the oath sealed in stone.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Kael met her gaze. “Then the stone will take what it needs.”
At dawn, she was led down a winding staircase, deeper into the roots of Moonstone Keep. The air grew heavy, thick with age and old magic. The corridor ended at a massive circular chamber carved from obsidian and quartz. In the centre lay a stone slab, surrounded by glowing runes.
Waiting for her was the High Priestess of Eldoria.
She was a tall woman with ash-colored hair and eyes like liquid mercury. She wore no crown, no adornments—only robes stitched with threads of starlight.
“Elara Moonstone,” she said, voice echoing. “Are you prepared to prove your lineage?”
Elara nodded, her fists clenched.
“You will lie upon the Stone of Blood,” the priestess said. “It will read your heart, your memories, your pain. If you are of the Moonshade line, it will unlock your power. If you are not… it will try to purge you.”
Kael stepped forward. “No one has survived a false claim.”
The priestess looked to him. “She must do this alone.”
Kael hesitated—then slowly backed away into the shadows.
Elara climbed the steps and lay down on the stone.
The slab was cold at first. Then it warmed, pulsing beneath her like a heartbeat.
The runes around her ignited.
Then came the voice—ancient and genderless—inside her head.
Blood that sings, truth that burns. Are you the child of oath or a child of lies?
“I am Elara. Daughter of Seris. Of Alric. Of the Moonshade line.”
Then prove it.
The world vanished.
She stood in a burning field.
Bodies. Smoke. Screams. A baby is crying.
She turned—and saw her mother. Seris, radiant and fierce, blood streaming down her face, placed the crying child into Kael’s arms.
“Take her!” she screamed. “Hide her where the stars cannot find her!”
Kael shifted into a silver wolf, and the world shattered again.
Now she stood in the garden from her dreams. Black flowers. The silver-eyed wolf.
But this time, she saw the shadowed figure behind it.
It was her.
Older. Harder. Wearing a crown of bone and flame.
You are not ready for what’s coming.
Elara took a step back. “Who are you?”
Her other self tilted her head. “I’m what you become if you survive.”
Elara woke with a scream.
The chamber was silent.
She was still alive.
The runes around her flickered.
Then the mark on her shoulder flared like wildfire, and a column of light shot into the ceiling. The stone cracked beneath her, but didn’t break.
The priestess stared in wonder.
“Confirmed,” she whispered. “She carries the old blood.”
Kael rushed forward, catching Elara as she staggered to her feet.
She leaned against him, shaking.
“I saw her,” she said. “Me. But not me. A version of me wearing a crown of fire.”
Kael looked into her eyes. “That’s your future, Elara. That’s your throne.”
Elara clenched her fists. She no longer felt like a shadow.
She felt like a flame.