Happy writing anniversary, Annbe11! It's been a pleasure to work with you. May your stories continue to grow, and may inspiration always find you.


Chapter Sixteen

Fall From Grace

Before…

He had hoped that it would not come to this.

Kael had continued to try as many solutions as he could think of, summoning healers from every corner of the continent.

But Filomena's condition continued to worsen every day. For anybody else, magical intervention would soon become necessary just to keep them alive. But magic was the cause of the problem for his beloved Filomena.

The power he had so admired her use of, the magic she had called upon to create butterflies in the endless garden and heal injured animals, was killing her. It was damaging her major organs, the lungs especially.

Very soon, her heart would simply wither away.

Only divine intervention could save her now. Only Selemene could save Filomena.

Since She had banished Mene and taken Her place as Goddess of the Moon, Selemene had not attempted to speak to Kael or Filomena, with one exception.

She knew that Kael had been a staunch supporter of Mene, and She also knew that Filomena was dying.

Kael had received one message from Her since he had caved and sent word explaining that Filomena had little time left.

"Bring Filomena to the Temple."

That was all the messaged had said, delivered by an unspeaking Moon Rider who had probably been under strict orders not to cut Kael down on the spot.

It was all the same, yet different too.

Kael had stepped into this sacred place many times over the years. Never had it been so hostile.

The layout was unchanged, but the guards now wore blue and silver, and they glared at Kael as he carried his daughter towards the Temple. The lotuses floating in the sacred pools now glowed violet instead of pure white.

Filomena's breathing was laboured and raspy. If her heart did not fail first, she would eventually suffocate. She had lost weight, unable to eat and keep food down, her limbs now little more than skin stretched taut over her bones.

She was too weak to walk now. She could barely open her eyes.

Kael had stopped attempting to hide the fear and sadness in his eyes, and his face was streaked with tears. His heart was breaking to see his daughter suffer like this. Nobody deserved this. Nobody. Least of all Filomena, with her innocent heart and kind spirit.

The sentinels opened the Temple doors, glowering at him. These people had all accepted Selemene as their new goddess, and they knew who Kael was. It was the nature of zealots to seek out and silence those they saw as enemies of their faith. That he had been Selemene's lover meant nothing to them. He would be perceived as a potential enemy unless he swore fealty to Selemene.

That was why he had been summoned. He knew that. Though it sickened him to even consider turning away from Mene, he would gladly do so to save Filomena's life.

The inner sanctum was much the same as it had always been. He could still taste the divine power in this room, echoes left behind by Mene and now by Selemene.

Kael took in a shuddering breath. 'We are here.'

He averted his eyes out of reflex as She materialised in a flare of swirling silvery light. Though he recognised Her, he also saw how much She had changed.

She had always been beautiful. But now there was a severity to that beauty. Her face was sharper and harsher, as if carved from stone. Her violet eyes burned with power, and She stood seven feet tall now, towering over Kael. Her skin was luminous, just like the moon high above—Mene's prison now.

Selemene regarded him and Her daughter imperiously. Kael swallowed. He feared not for his own life, he was here only for Filomena's sake.

'Do you love me?' Selemene asked softly, Her quiet words reverberating with divine might.

'Yes.' Kael answered truthfully. 'I do.'

'And what about you, my daughter? Do you love me too?'

Filomena coughed weakly and forced her eyes open, the lids drooping. 'Yes.'

Kael stepped forwards and knelt before the throne, still holding Filomena in his arms. 'Please! Filomena will die if nothing is done. You are the only one who can save her now.'

'Even deities have rules, Kael. You, of all people, should know that.'

'I do. But she is your daughter, Selemene. And she loves you. I know that you still love her.'

Selemene looked down Her nose at them both. 'I can save her.'

Kael gasped, feeling relief for the first time in months of suffering and anguish. 'Thank you!'

Selemene held up one perfectly proportioned hand, the nails long and sharp. 'There is a price.'

'Name it. Name it, and I will pay.' Kael promised. She could kill him for all he cared, as long as She saved Filomena.

Selemene was silent for a moment, then She leaned forwards and peered at Filomena. 'Swear fealty to me, my daughter. You already love me as your mother. Now you must love me as your goddess. Give me your loyalty and devotion, and I will heal you. I will be your salvation.'

Filomena rasped as she laboured to speak. 'I… I can't.'

Kael's heart seemed to cease beating in that moment, a moment which stretched for an eternity. Her loyalty to Mene was inspiring, but it would kill her.

Selemene frowned. 'Mene is gone. She would have brought ruin upon the world. I saved this world and its people from a deity gone mad with the desire for power and adoration. I took Her place for the sake of all that is good.'

Filomena coughed again. 'Yes… but I can… see what it has done to you.' She took in a rattling breath. 'Please! I will always love you… as my mother. But I cannot worship you. I just… I want it to be like it was before. Us, together again. You don't have to do this. We… could be happy again.'

'The mother you knew is gone, Filomena.' Selemene intoned. 'Give me your loyalty, or pay the price.'

Filomena was right. She had changed. She had replaced Mene because She claimed that the old goddess had become too power hungry, and perhaps She was right. But Selemene was already becoming just like Her.

Those with power always risked becoming corrupt. And those with absolute power risked becoming absolutely corrupt. The path to damnation was often laid with good intentions.

'Filomena,' Kael whispered. 'Please! Mene would understand. I will. Please! I can't lose you!'

Filomena reached up slowly, barely able to lift her arm, and touched his face. 'I can't.' She looked to her mother once again. 'I love you, Mother. I always… will. I just want you to come home, to be… my mother again.'

Selemene's perfect face creased, and for a moment filled with the purest hope, Kael thought that She might relent, that She might find room in Her hardened heart for mercy, for love once again.

'Then so be it.'

The words came out clipped and harsh, and Kael's face and heart fell in the same moment.

Selemene turned away, the silver light blossoming from Her form as She began to leave. Filomena coughed and rasped in Kael's arms.

'No! Wait!' Kael cried, rising and moving towards Her, as if he could somehow chase after Her. 'I'll worship you! I'll give you power! Anything!' The light began to recede, and he felt tears streaming down his cheeks as he wailed, 'Let me die instead! Don't do this, my love! Don't let our daughter die!'

The light faded away, and with it his only hope. Kael stood before the empty throne, shaking and weeping. He looked down at Filomena. How could her own mother have turned against her? Just for staying true to what she believed in?

He was proud of her, despite everything. He would take her back home, see if there was some other way to save her. Maybe the newly revered Omniscience or even this Prince of the Sun could help her. There had to be hope! She could not die!

Filomena had closed her eyes again. She had stopped rasping, and her face was relaxed and peaceful for the first time in months.

Kael sighed, wondering how she could have fallen asleep now.

It was then that he realised that she had stopped breathing. He had not even noticed when it had happened.

He simply stood there, looking down at her. He had no idea what to do. He was disconnected from reality, unable to comprehend what had just happened, unable to think. This could not be real. This was some horrible dream. This was happening to somebody else.

But it was real. His daughter had just died in his arms, cast aside by her own mother. He had not even been able to say goodbye to her. Selemene had robbed him of that too.

Kael sank to his knees in that lonely, cold chamber and held Filomena close, fresh tears seeping from his eyes. If Selemene or Her guardians heard his cries, they did not heed them.

Filomena was gone now. And he was alone.

Kael could not live with the grief. So he could be Kael no longer. Kael would die there in the Temple of Selemene and join Filomena in spirit. He would become someone else, something else, a weapon intended to avenge Kael and his beloved daughter.

He would bring down Selemene. For her.

For Filomena.


Now…

The Dark Moon Order's army had never been large. Ever since defeating the last remnants of Mene's loyalist army in the early days of Selemene's reign, they had grown complacent. Their only targets had been small villages of Mene worshippers, mostly elves who clung to the old ways like shipwrecked survivors clinging to flotsam. Hardly viable armies by comparison.

Luna had reorganised the army into a force to be reckoned with, but it was hardly equal to the armies of the neighbouring kingdoms. By Selemene's decree, they had no siege engines either for defence or attack. The Dark Moon Order was also heavily reliant on cavalry, speed and surprise being its chief advantages.

Luna had not served in a proper army. She had been a raider, not a soldier, and thus she fought and commanded her forces as a raider would. Speed and aggression suited her, not static defence.

And they had all assumed that the Dark Moon Horde was no longer the threat it had once been. They had destroyed the odd holdout or faced down the occasional incursion, but they had all believed that the Horde was a shadow of its former self. Never had they even dreamed that it might one day rise anew, a true army more powerful than the Dark Moon Order.

The Horde, supported and secretly organised and directed by the Invoker, had deliberately staged those raids and allowed holdouts to be destroyed to form an impression of weakness, allowing Selemene's forces to gain those little victories, become lax, whilst they gathered their forces in secret, the true army waiting for the right day to achieve its ultimate goals: end Selemene's reign and pave the way for Mene's return.

That time was now. The Invoker had watched and waited for centuries. Mene still had faithful followers, and their belief in Her had allowed Her to regain some of Her former strength.

The sign had been Fymryn, the first to be chosen by Mene to bear Her gifts since She had been usurped, the first Nightblade in centuries.

With the help of the Dark Moon Horde, Fymryn and an unexpected ally, the Invoker now had the means to challenge Selemene directly. It was the first step in bringing back Mene once and for all.

It was the beginning of the revenge he had promised, for Kael and Filomena.

They had gathered not far from the Temple walls. As the scouts had reported, the Champion of the Moon Riders had gathered her cavalry outside the walls. She was a raider, not a soldier. A soldier might have held the cavalry back and waited.

In a siege, the defender often held the initial advantage. Luna was at risk of forsaking the benefits of her fortifications simply because it was in her nature to attack first, to crush her opposition. She was too impatient to be defensive.

And she obviously had no idea what she was up against. The shrouding magic was working well, all the enemy knew was which direction the Dark Moon Horde was coming from.

There were archers atop the wall, and probably more in the courtyard, with infantry ready in case the walls were breached. There might even be more cavalry waiting too, and the griffon riders had obviously been recalled. No doubt the Moon Rider Champion would call upon them when she charged.

The Invoker was the one in command of the Horde, but he had chosen to leave the disposition of the forces to Dierdd. The man was an experienced commander, he knew the strengths and weaknesses of his troops. He knew how to deploy them.

The Invoker needed to save his strength for the toughest battle they would face tonight, the one which would decide everything.

Fymryn was still close to him. The dark metal of Dawn's Bane made no sound as she drew it from the leather scabbard. In her other hand, she clutched a dagger. A statement in of itself. Her knives had been tools she could use in defence of her life. The dagger was intended solely for killing. Gone were the knives, now she held weapons meant for battle.

At the front, men and women armed with polearms braced their weapons against the ground, ready to face the inevitable charge. The shield bearers closed ranks, forming a wall of wood and steel.

The cockatrices clawed at the ground, each of their four limbs equipped with razor-sharp claws, their beaks ending in cruel, barbed hooks. Dark blue and purple plumage sprouted from their lean, wiry bodies, ending with a long fan of a tail. Between their legs stretched feathered webbing which allowed them to glide short distances. Atop each cockatrice was a rider, armed with lance, flail, axe, hammer or sabre.

Behind them were the archers, sorcerers and mangonels. In the last rank were the bigger siege engines, catapults and onagers, hauled by golems which themselves would be sent to attack the walls. The banshees waited for the order to fly, ready to counter the griffon attack which would surely follow the cavalry charge.

Fymryn inhaled deeply and steeled herself. The Invoker was tense too, but unafraid. He had been preparing for this moment for a long time. To say that he was eager for it was untrue, for despite his attempts to harden his heart, a small part of him was still Kael, the lover of Selemene and the father of her child. That part of him was sad that Selemene would be grievously hurt tonight, brought low by his own hand.

But it had to be done, and the Invoker knew that. For justice. For vengeance. For Mene.

For Filomena.

He nodded to Dierdd. Dierdd rode his cockatrice towards the front and waved a group of riders forwards. They were the bait, brave volunteers loyal to the cause who would draw Luna and her Moon Riders into chasing them. Many of them would die, perhaps they all would, but it was a risk they were willing to take.

War always demanded sacrifices. There would be many more to come, on both sides, before this war came to an end.


Luna could see the mass of shadowy darkness ahead, the shrouding magic concealing the enemy from view.

A more cautious commander would have wondered if the magic was meant to mislead, to hide the true strength of the opposing force. Luna, however, read it as a sign of weakness. She believed that the enemy was trying to scare them, make them believe that they had a larger force than they really did.

Like many of her fellow soldiers and her predecessors, she thought that the Dark Moon Horde lacked the numbers, means and the skill to mount a proper attack on the Temple of Selemene. They were a force used to striking from the shadows, an annoyance, nothing more.

If they wanted one last proper fight before they were crushed once and for all, Luna would be happy to indulge them.

The only matter which did concern her was the enemy leader Selemene seemed to be expecting. She had claimed that he was too powerful for Luna and her Moon Riders to defeat. Worse, Selemene and Her spellsingers had been unable to dispel or pierce the shroud of darkness concealing the enemy, which told them that a powerful mage was indeed present, likely supported by other powerful mages. They had to be strong in the arcane arts to deflect the sight of a goddess. The griffon riders too had been unable to determine the strength of the enemy force. Luna was operating on assumptions.

Though she had taken precautions, she was already making a mistake. If she had known just how strong a force she was facing, she would never have planned a head-on charge.

Nova growled, as eager as Luna was to fight. The other feline night-beasts could all sense the mingled anticipation and fear of their riders, and responded by extending their claws and baring their fangs. The lunar dragons, almost twice the size of the night-beasts, riderless but trained for battle, were in front of them. They were not true dragons, but they were strong, tough and nigh impossible to stop. They were like living battering rams.

They would hit the enemy first, who would be weakened by a volley of arrows beforehand, smashing their front lines and clearing the way for the Moon Riders, who would be supported from above by the griffon riders.

Lhara would be leading the griffon riders. Tefolyn was in charge of the second wave of cavalry. Other Marshals would oversee the archers and infantry.

Selemene was with them. Her power would bolster them. They would achieve victory in Her name, for She was with them.

A small group of indistinct shapes, clearly mounts of some kind bearing riders emerged from the shroud. Luna recognised the creatures as they drew closer: cockatrices.

She bared her teeth as she grinned. Cockatrices were vicious creatures, but no match for a lunar-cat. Her Moon Riders also outnumbered the enemy cavalry twice over, and that was true even if she did not count the lunar dragons.

Luna raised a silver-banded horn to her lips and blew a long, clear note. The lunar dragons and feline night-beasts roared. Clouds of silvery vapour erupted from the maws of the lunar dragons, and the riders raised their weapons.

The twenty dragons charged first, followed by the Moon Riders, a sweeping wave of claw, fang and steel two hundred strong. They sang as they charged, a hymn devoted to the imminent glory of Selemene and Her faithful.

Nova pounded slightly ahead of the other Moon Riders' night beasts, eager to meet the foe. The cockatrice riders turned their mounts around and fled before them.

On the walls, the command was issued to the archers. 'Nock! Draw! Loose!'

A hail of steel and silver-threaded arrows flew into the sky, kindling with white flame as they flew. As they arced down, Lhara and her griffon riders took flight, soaring up above the rain of arrows as they fell into the cloak of darkness and upon the enemy. The griffon riders loosed a volley as the cavalry below crossed into the sphere of shadow.

And now Luna realised that they had been outwitted, and that the enemy had more than expected these tactics. They had prepared for them.

The first volley had fallen short. They had assumed that the enemy's first rank would be right on the edge of the dark cloak, but it was much further back. The second volley, launched from the airborne griffons, had struck down a few soldiers, but not many.

The lunar dragons charged on regardless, but the enemy was not going to stop them with spears and pikes. No, they had something better in mind.

Luna could only watch in horror, borne forwards by Nova, as golems stomped forwards between gaps in the thicket of polearms, arms swinging, fists smashing into the lunar dragons before they could break the enemy lines.

The lunar dragons were tough, but their scales were not as hard as those of a true dragon. Blood sprayed and soaked the ground. The golems advanced, some with ropey entrails still clutched in their colossal fists. Some of the lunar dragons still lived, and were attacking savagely. But though they were more than capable of killing the men and women present, the golems were too much for them. Even now, the stone monstrosities continued to crush and pulp the lunar dragons.

Luna saw the array of spears aimed at her and her Moon Riders and knew that they had to change tactics immediately. The lunar dragons had failed to tear enough holes in the front line.

'Divide!' Luna cried. The Moon Riders broke apart, scattering into two separate groups, intending to form a pincer movement which would hit the enemy from both sides. They swept between the trees, now relying on the sheer speed of their mounts to outmanoeuvre the enemy.

Perhaps this would work better, for the enemy had clearly expected a frontal assault, not a flanking attack. If they could kill the sorcerers responsible for the shrouding spell, the griffon riders could provide more support. When the enemy ranks were thrown into disarray, Luna would signal the second wave of Moon Riders, who would be followed by the infantry.

It had to work. She could see the forms of siege engines now. If they failed to destroy or disable them, the Temple walls would be reduced to rubble.

About the enemy flanks, the shield bearers hastily reorganised to form walls. It would not be enough to stop the night-beasts.

But they had no intention of letting the Moon Riders simply collide with them. Before the Moon Riders could hit the flanks, large, lean creatures leapt over the shield walls, limbs extended to spread the membranes under their bodies, allowing them to glide forwards. More cockatrices.

She yanked on the reins, pulling Nova aside before the cockatrice flying towards her could strike. Several of her fellow Moon Riders were not as lucky. The sharp beaks of the cockatrices snapped riders from their saddles, crushing them, armour and bone alike, and cruel talons dug into the night-beasts and tore chunks from their bodies.

There was no way the attack could succeed now. Even if the remaining Moon Riders completed their charge, they would be chased by the cockatrices. They would be herded into the middle of the enemy force, surrounded, and massacred. The golems were already marching into position.

Luna heard a wailing screech from overhead, followed by a horrible, piercing scream which hurt her ears, despite the helm covering them. The enemy had sent the banshees to attack the griffons.

Emerging below the griffon riders, the banshees tore into the noble beasts with frenzied abandon. Blood, torn limbs and savaged organs fell all around.

Luna had to steer Nova aside as two halves of a lunar dragon, torn in half by one of the golems, were thrown in her direction. In a straight fight, the feline night-beasts were more than a match for the cockatrices and their riders. They would lunge around the snapping beak and bite into the long neck, severing the spinal cord and leaving the beast's rider helpless. But the cockatrice riders were operating in pairs, one avian mount distracting the night-beast and its rider as the other attacked, always driving them towards the middle of the enemy force, where eager soldiers with spears, war-scythes and halberds awaited them.

The Dark Moon Order was losing! If they kept this up, they would be wiped out!

Luna wrenched Nova around, seized her horn and sounded it twice. 'Retreat!' she yelled, ducking as an arrow flew her way. 'Fall back to the Temple!'

It galled her to turn tail and flee, but death was certain if they remained. If they regrouped, they might stand a chance.

Selemene would be at Her strongest in the Temple grounds. She would protect them.

Even as they retreated, more night-beasts and their riders fell, struck by arrows or run down by cockatrices. Above them, the griffons struggled to disentangle themselves from the banshees.

Nova was panting hard, but she managed to leap over the wall. The archers atop the wall loosed arrows at the cockatrices which pursued them, killing a few of them. The remainder broke off their pursuit and fled back into the shadows.

Nova slumped as Luna slid from her saddle. The night-beast was not badly hurt, but she had been struck by a couple of arrows.

Luna patted her flank. 'Go. Find shelter.' Nova was perhaps one of the very few beings whose company she actually liked. She would not be much help now. Within the courtyard, there was little room in which to charge.

The remaining griffons came swooping in, some badly injured, others without their riders.

Luna was about to demand where Lhara was before she heard a desperate screech. She ducked down on instinct as Lhara's griffon hit the ground, slipped, and slid across the courtyard, leaving a streak of blood, stark against the pale stonework, behind him.

Luna raced over and reached him just as the poor griffon breathed his last. Still fastened into the saddle was Lhara, unmoving, blood dripping from where her left arm had been torn out. Her head was barely attached, partially severed by a banshee's claws.

Luna turned away, grinding her teeth.

'Commander?' Tefolyn rode over. 'What happened?'

'What does it bloody look like?' Luna snapped. 'They turned it into a fucking ambush! All of our lunar dragons are dead and over half of my Moon Riders are gone. Get back into formation! They're coming for us, and we haven't even made a dent in their army. Archers, hold! If you can't see them you can't kill them!'

The bows stopped singing. The once proud detachment of Moon Riders Luna had commanded was now a sorry sight to behold. Out of two hundred of them, only ninety-two battle-ready night-beasts remained. Three were without their riders, commanded to flee shortly before their riders died. Four more still carried their riders, but the riders were dead. Many more, riders and mounts alike, were badly injured.

Luna swore under her breath. Against an enemy force with siege engines, they had no chance of holding the walls. All they could do was try to slow them down, maybe thin their numbers a little. There was no way they could win this conventionally.

Luna had three options: hold, hope Selemene intervened, and try to push the enemy back, or at least die with honour in defence of this sacred place. Rally her forces for one last charge, a suicidal option but it might buy the wounded time to withdraw. Or retreat entirely.

The latter option was sickening just to think about. Luna was not the sort who ran, not unless she had no choice. She'd only run to the Nightsilver Woods when her own people had cast her out, to keep themselves safe from consequences Luna was meant to suffer. The second option was a non-starter too. In their current condition, her detachment of Moon Riders would be lucky to make it halfway before being cut down by the enemy archers. Tefolyn would have better luck, but his riders would suffer just as Luna's had, and his detachment consisted of only ninety riders, less than half the strength of the force Luna had commanded prior to the disastrous charge.

All they could do was try to hold for as long as possible. When She was ready, Selemene would join the battle, and the enemy would know Her terrible wrath.

'Defensive positions,' Luna ordered. 'Tefolyn, take your riders around the back and charge when I sound my horn. I want your Moon Riders to strike from both sides.' She swallowed, feeling slightly nauseous.

If she had not been reeling from the ambush and the surges of adrenaline, she might have realised just how strange that was.

Luna revelled in battle. She was the last one to be sickened by bloodshed.


'We will have to dispel the shadow cloak to use the siege engines.' Dierdd stated. 'But we are ready. They'll have gathered their remaining forces in the courtyard.'

'Do we really need to break down the wall?' Fymryn inquired. 'Could those bird-things jump over it? I climbed it easily, and their night-beasts can leap over it too.'

'Yes, the cockatrices can jump over the wall,' the Invoker confirmed. 'But they will not win this battle alone, and not all of the siege weapons will be used on the wall.'

The mangonels would launch their shots directly into the wall. They lacked the range of the catapults and onagers, and were prone to breaking due to extreme strain, but they were exceptionally powerful, ideal for breaking down the walls of the Temple. Trebuchets would have been even better, but they would have taken longer to assemble, would have been easier to spot, and were complete overkill.

The catapults and onagers were almost excessive for this battle, and they were intended for more vulnerable targets. But the Invoker and Dierdd did not believe in fair fights. In truth, there was no such thing. Even in a duel with opponents of seemingly equal skill with similar armour and weapons, one would be just a little stronger, a little faster, or just luckier.

They would not trust to luck alone, not for something as important as this. This was part of the reason why they had waited so long for this day to come, for just the right moment to bring Selemene down.

Dierdd held up his hand. The magical shroud dissipated. The archers behind him nocked their arrows, lifted their bows and drew back their strings. The siege engines were loaded and cranked. When Dierdd swung his arm downwards, the archers loosed their volley and the siege engines were unleashed.

Unlike the arrows launched by the Dark Moon Order archers, these ones glowed violet at the tip. When they struck their targets in the courtyard, particles of purple light erupted around the point of impact, hissing as they struck other objects, scalding exposed flesh. The soldiers with shields lifted them before the next volley fell upon them, trying to protect their comrades.

Their shields were a hopeless defence against the heavy stones flung upon them. Blood sprayed across the courtyard, staining the waters of the sacred pools.

'Scatter!' Luna ordered. 'Loosen the lines! Staggered formations!' It would hopefully make it less likely that they would suffer more losses.

The Order's archers staggered to their feet, having been knocked down by the impacts caused by the mangonels. Before they could launch a volley in response, the enemy archers unleashed another storm of arrows, this time aiming for them.

Men fell from the wall, their lighter armour easily pierced by the searing arrowheads of Mene's devoted. More shots from the siege engines fell into the courtyard, shattering the ancient stonework, and more from the mangonels smashed into the walls.

Luna brought her double-blade round. The wall would not take much more. She could already see fissures spreading across the stone on their side. 'Hold your ground. No matter what comes through the breach, we will stand and fight in the name of Selemene!'

The next barrage smashed down three sections of the wall, taking more of the archers with it.

'Points forth!' Luna yelled as dust filled the air. The men bearing glaives moved forwards and braced themselves, ready to impale the enemy as they charged.

But Dierdd was not sending in either cavalry or infantry first. No, he knew better than that.

Instead, hulking forms made of stone smashed through the gaps in the walls, creatures the glaives could not stop: golems. Over the walls behind the golems came the cockatrices, gliding into the courtyard to flank the Order's infantry.

Luna blew her horn, signalling Tefolyn. His Moon Riders came from both sides in a pincer manoeuvre, slamming into the cockatrices. The night-beasts lay the avians low, their fangs and claws tearing into them as their riders cut the enemy apart.

But Luna had made another mistake. She had panicked at the sight of the golems and called Tefolyn in too early. Dierdd had sent in willing volunteers to force the blunder, and now he took full advantage.

The second wave of cockatrice riders leapt over the walls, followed by a wave of the black, bat-like banshees. The griffon riders rose to meet them, and soon the battle raged above and below. The dead fell from on high even as soldiers fell upon the ground beneath.

Luna slashed and hacked, her blessed, moon-forged blades scything through bodies all around her. Not for the first time, she was soon covered in gore. She could taste it in her mouth. Her armour was dripping, and every time she swung her blades more blood sprayed.

She still felt sick, but she had no time to dwell on that now.

Luna swept the head from her attacker and found herself in a space unoccupied by fighters, an eye in the relentless storm of bloodshed.

Before her stood a slim elven woman clad in dark leather and metal, contrasting with her pale skin and light flaxen hair. In one hand, she held a dagger in a reverse grip, in the other she held a black, curved blade.

Dawn's Bane, sword of Mene's champion amongst the most favoured of her mortal servants, the Nightblades.

Luna snarled and lifted her own weapon, a gift from Selemene Herself. 'I've always wanted to kill a Nightblade,' she snarled. 'Tell me your name, so that I can inscribe it once I kill you.'

The elf glowered at her, and now Luna saw that her blades were bloodied. 'I am Fymryn of Coedwig, Chosen of Mene.'

'Coedwig?' Luna hissed. 'If you wish to avenge your people, you will be disappointed.' Unwilling to waste more words on this heretic, she extended her arm, whirling her weapon. She was confident that it would slice this Nightblade in half.

Luna threw it at Fymryn, who vanished in a burst of shadowy vapour. Luna saw her appear on her right side, caught her blade and swung it at her, only to cut through empty air as the illusion faded. She spun just in time to parry Dawn's Bane.

Fymryn swiped at her with the dagger, and Luna felt it scratch her cuirass. Luna pushed, forcing Fymryn back, then swung her blade.

Fymryn jumped back. Her armour was less protective, but she was lighter and faster than Luna. Another veil of shadow enveloped her and Luna saw multiple opponents, all copies of Fymryn, closing in. They were illusions, but amongst them had to be the real Fymryn.

Luna threw her weapon, and it spun around her in a circle. The illusions all vanished in clouds of shadowy vapour, but Fymryn was not amongst them.

She reappeared before Luna, swinging Dawn's Bane even though she was too far away.

Even as Luna prepared to charge, she realised that Fymryn did not need to be close to strike at her. A crescent of pure darkness raced forth from the blade in Fymryn's hand, aimed straight at Luna.

Luna jumped aside, and yelled as blood gushed from her foot. The arc had caught the last two toes on her left foot, and it had sliced through steel, flesh and bone alike. The arc continued and caught one of her soldiers, cutting him in half. Luna swore in elvish and threw her weapon at Fymryn again.

Fymryn ducked under it, vanished before it could strike her on its return, and left more copies for Luna to deal with.

Luna sliced them apart, realising that Fymryn was behind her at the last moment. She spun to parry, catching the edge of Fymryn's blade, then turned to kill her with the other end of her weapon.

Fymryn caught it with the guard of her dagger, and the two of them were locked in place. Luna snarled and began to push against Fymryn, knowing that she was stronger than the elf.

Fymryn stepped in, deliberately stamping on Luna's injured foot. Luna yelped and her balance shifted, giving Fymryn the advantage.

With a fierce cry, Fymryn shoved, pushing Luna backwards. She swung Dawn's Bane at Luna's throat. Luna managed to deflect it, but sent it towards her waist instead. The blade sliced into the tassets protecting her legs and cut into her skin.

Fymryn prepared to drive the dagger into Luna's eye as the Moon Rider staggered, bleeding and losing strength. She could not believe that this was happening. Why was she suddenly so weak?

Fymryn hesitated, staring at her ailing foe. It was then that Luna felt blood trickling from her nose, and she realised that her heart was beating faster than it should have been, even now in the thick of battle. Her breath came harsh and fast, her lungs struggling to sustain her. She felt like she was about to vomit.

What sorcery had the Dark Moon Horde unleashed on them? All around her, the soldiery of the Dark Moon Order fell before the heretics. Infantry clad in black armour had joined the fray, cutting their way across the courtyard, overwhelming the weakening defenders with sheer numbers.

Fymryn stood her ground, teeth bared, blades at the ready.

Luna struggled to her feet. She would fight to the death if she had to, and if this elf hesitated again she would cut her down.

The battle around them ceased.

It was that sudden. Every surviving fighter stopped and turned towards the Temple.

Luna's heart should have soared with joy to know that Selemene was joining the fight. Yet nothing but dread filled her has her goddess strode into the bloodied courtyard, a nimbus of silvery light about Her tall, curvaceous form. Following Her came the spellsingers and her clergy, oddly hunched with their hoods drawn up over their heads.

Through the breach opposite Her strode an elf, seemingly young yet with old eyes and a face etched with sorrow and anger. His long white robes swayed as he moved forwards. About him orbited the stolen lotuses, now blacker than the deepest shadows, and three strange orbs. One orb was aflame, the second crackled with electricity, the third hissed and steamed.

The surviving defenders drew back a little, except for Luna. Luna was expecting the fight to break out again, and she was still determined to kill the Nightblade.

Her shoulders sagged with fatigue and that strange weakness. Her armour pressed down on her and she gagged, fighting to keep the bile down. Her vision swam randomly, dizziness swirling in her head. She was starting to wonder if she had been poisoned, but she had spent time inuring herself against various toxins.

She noticed that she was not the only one. Several of her soldiers looked ill. It had to be some witchcraft the enemy had devised.

Selemene and the elven man faced each other amidst the ruins of the courtyard, the dead all about them. Though the elf was shorter than Selemene, he was somehow just as imposing. He radiated power just as she did, and something more.

'I did not want to believe that this was your doing.' Selemene said, Her brows contracting. 'Perhaps it was a mistake to show you mercy, Kael.'

'You never showed me any mercy, Lady of the Moon,' the elf's voice was measured and level, but underneath was an undercurrent of sadness and resentment. 'Better that you had taken my life then and spared our daughter. The blame for what has happened tonight, and what will follow, lies with you and you alone.'

Selemene curled Her luminous hands into fists. 'I gave her a choice.'

'She was your daughter.' The Invoker stated. 'Our daughter. And you killed her because she would not feed your vanity.' He sighed. 'You once told me that you only needed one admirer. Was that true before? Or was it always a lie?'

'You of all people should know that it was necessary!'

'One life? Was it too much to ask? Did there have to be a price?' He shook his head. 'You became the very thing you swore to end, Selemene.'

Selemene's lips thinned into a grim, cruel smile. 'And what has Mene promised you in return for your service, Invoker? My death? I am immortal now. A deity can never truly die. Your daughter brought back to life? That would have been beyond Her power even when She was strong. Tell me, what did She offer you?'

The Invoker narrowed his eyes, focused only on Her. 'She promised me vengeance. For the Coriel'Tauvi. For me. For Filomena.'

Selemene bared Her teeth. 'You may have corrupted some of my lotuses, but that will not save you from my wrath.'

The Invoker half-smiled grimly. 'They were never yours, and they never will be. They were, and always have been, Mene's lotuses, and Mene's blessing is upon us.' He lifted his hand and proudly indicated Fymryn. 'Do you see? Even imprisoned, Mene has chosen a new Champion and blessed her with sacred power.' The sorcerers behind him lifted their staves, and the lotuses still in the pools now rose and glided towards them, their glows slowly fading to black. 'You only delayed the inevitable, Selemene. Mene's power was never truly yours. Why else would you resort to stealing the lives of your followers?' He turned his head, eyes roving over the sickened soldiers, Luna amongst them, before settling on something inside the Temple. 'How many more will you sacrifice tonight? Your High Priestess may have given her life willingly, but will the rest of your followers?

Luna peered into the Temple and saw something, white and blue, upon the floor just beyond the threshold. It took her a moment to realise that it was a body, the High Priestess dead upon the ground. Though she was standing far from the doors, Luna could just about see her, and the sight shocked her, fracturing something deep inside her heart.

The High Priestess' skin was shrivelled and grey. She was little more than a dessicated husk now, like a body drained of water and left at the mercies of a desert.

'What of your current Princess of the Moon?' The Invoker was still speaking, accusing eyes stabbing into Selemene. 'Does she know the truth? Does she know that every time she indulges you, she pays a price? How many unlived years of her life have you stolen from her? Is it love? I would not call it that. I call it a lust for power. That it grants you excitement only encourages you to continue. It is an addiction, a desire for pleasure and power both.'

'You know nothing!' Selemene snarled.

'I know that your Princess of the Moon is more than many of your followers realise. I know that you have hidden many truths from her, though she claims to love you.' The Invoker's smile was now crueller as it spread across his narrow face. 'Though in truth, her heart belongs to another. It always has.

But I think you knew this all along. Perhaps you really can love, after a fashion. You should be grateful to me, Selemene. Tonight, I will also be saving her from you.'

'That is not your choice to make!'

'No, it is not,' the Invoker said. 'Nor is it yours. Her fate will find her, but not by your hand.'

'I should have ended you long ago.' Selemene gritted her teeth. 'Now I shall correct that mistake. There will be no more mercy for you, Kael.'

The Invoker did not raise his voice, nor did his expression change. 'You never showed anybody mercy, Selemene, least of all me. And I will grant you none in return.' He lifted his hands, and the orbs orbiting around him revolved faster, glowing intensely and bathing him in light.

Nobody dared to stand between them.

Selemene struck first, thrusting Her hand forth and sending a ray of silver light towards the Invoker. The lotuses might have responded for him, or perhaps he used them, it was impossible to tell. If he had been telling the truth, perhaps Mene Herself still had power enough to direct them.

A cloak of violet, edged with shadow, emanated from the lotuses, blocking the lance of power. When it cleared, lightning crashed across the courtyard. The harsh light and roar of noise made everybody except for the Invoker and Selemene recoil.

Selemene blocked the spell, forks of lightning branching out around her and striking the Temple, blasting stone from the ground around her, striking down a couple of her adherents. She had started to levitate. Waving Her arms, She gathered swirling ribbons of silver and violet power, then sent them spiralling towards the Invoker.

As he worked the counter-spell, the lotuses drank in the divine magic. He was prolonging the fight on purpose, stealing Selemene's power.

One of Selemene's priestesses crumpled, and Luna saw that she too was a withered husk now. Even as she looked upon the truth, she tried to tell herself that Selemene had no choice.

This madness could still end.

Luna lifted her weapon and ran at Fymryn. The elf met her blade with Dawn's Bane and fought back. Luna was still weakened. She was more experienced than Fymryn, but in her current state she was likely to lose. But she had to fight! Selemene had given her what she never had before: a cause worth fighting for.

Around her, the rest of the Order's soldiers started to fight. But they too were growing weaker as Selemene fuelled Her waning power with their faith and their lives. The Horde soldiers were cutting them down in droves. The once proud soldiery of the Dark Moon Order was being wiped out.

Now the Invoker had Selemene on the defensive, hurling torrents of fire at Her, blocking Her lances and swirls of scything light with walls of ice, retaliating with arcs of lightning. He was advancing as She fell back, more of Her acolytes falling to the ground, twitching as the last of their lives faded away, feeding Selemene's failing power.

How could this be? How could a goddess be losing like this?

How could Luna be losing? Fymryn was beating her back, her strikes still strong whereas Luna's every swing and parry grew weaker.

She had sworn to give her love and her life for Selemene, had she always meant it so literally? Selemene had given her a second chance. It was worth dying for.

Wasn't it?


Selemene was growing weaker. She should have anticipated that the lotuses could be turned against Her, yet who could have foreseen just how easy it would be?

They were all linked, and the Invoker's alterations had been enough to affect the others. He was also the one who had devised many aspects of the Dark Moon, which the lotuses were part of. Nobody else could have exploited Selemene's sacred lotuses as he could.

And he had grown more powerful than even Selemene had expected. He had not spent the centuries since Filomena's death simply grieving. He had turned his bitterness into purpose, and he had prepared for this day. He had spent centuries refining his skills, honing his spells, expanding his power, all in preparation for fighting a goddess.

Her acolytes had fallen, either drained to fuel Her power or killed by Kael's allies. Luna still fought, growing weaker, the Nightblade forcing her back.

Lightning crashed around Selemene, fire scorching the corpses littered around Her. Kael advanced, the orbs and lotuses circling around him.

Selemene snarled and drew upon the few who were left, wringing their essence from them. Luna fell to her knees, screaming as Selemene started to rip her life from her.

Fymryn hesitated again, seeing her opponent fall. Faint, gossamer threads of energy ran like thin threads from Luna, trailing to Selemene. Luna writhed, fighting against the pull, trying to resist purely out of instinct and the stubborn will to survive. Selemene was robbing her of her life.

Fymryn considered killing her, putting her out of her misery. This woman had likely been involved in the destruction of Coedwig, she might have killed her pod. She was an enemy of Mene, and she was feeding Selemene's power.

Fymryn raised Dawn's Bane and brought it down with a cry.

Selemene dropped to the ground, recoiling as if struck. Luna wailed and clutched at her heart, her gauntleted fingers scrabbling at her cuirass. The severed threads floated downwards, cut by Fymryn's blade, fading away into nothingness.

Luna opened her eyes and stared up at Fymryn, who gazed back at her steadily. Luna was too weak to rise, and she was still at Fymryn's mercy.

Fymryn turned away, leaving her upon the ground. Luna tried to stand, but the effort was too much for her. Her head lolled back and her eyes closed again. She gratefully allowed the world to fade away.

As Luna passed out, the Invoker advanced on Selemene again. Selemene rose to Her feet, swaying. There were only a few survivors left, and their faith was not enough to sustain Her power.

She had no choice. She knew it would hurt Mirana, but She had to draw upon Marci's soul now. Distance was irrelevant, so long as she was still present in the world her faith would suffice. Perhaps Selemene could even draw that strange innate power out of her too.

But nothing happened. Selemene could not draw the life from Marci.

Selemene snarled. The handmaiden's faith had always been questionable. It seemed that she had given up on Selemene entirely. Selemene had agreed to Mirana's pleas, taken the mute oddity in despite her misgivings, given her a home and a purpose, and this was how she repaid Her? Fine! When Selemene was done here, She would punish the girl for her disturbing lack of faith.

Worse still, this meant that Selemene had no choice but to use Mirana's faith and life now. She did not want to, for despite what Kael had accused Her of, She truly felt something for Mirana. She really did love her. But if She failed tonight, Mene would return. The world would suffer.

One life was a small price to pay, even if it was the life of somebody She cared about.

Kael waited, knowing that Selemene was almost beaten.

Selemene felt for the connection between Her and Mirana, seizing upon it and reaching for Her Princess of the Moon. So many others had come before her, all of them eventually giving their hearts and souls to Selemene, all loved, all ultimately expendable. Though She loved Mirana, the Princess of the Moon would have to die to keep the Dark Moon from rising.

And she was not there.

Selemene gasped, staggering backwards. She could not find Mirana, just as She had failed to find Marci. A lack of faith from Marci, She could perhaps understand. But Mirana… how could Her beloved Mirana betray Her like this?

She had always suspected that Mirana's heart truly belonged to another, to Marci no less, but her faith had been strong even so.

Then She noticed Kael's expression, and She realised the truth. It was so obvious! She should have foreseen it!

The endless garden. A plane separate from the mortal world. Kael must have found some way to lure them into his clutches and imprisoned them within, keeping them out of reach of Selemene. Even if She had been amongst the heavens, She could not have found them.

The lotuses had been stolen for another purpose, besides Kael's intention to turn them into weapons to use against Selemene. He'd tasked Mene's new Nightblade with stealing the lotuses under Marci's care deliberately. When Selemene had sent Marci out to retrieve them, Mirana had immediately volunteered to aid her. The theft had been part of his trap, a lure to draw them into his tower all along. He'd known that Mirana would want to help her beloved handmaiden, that they would stop at nothing to find the lotuses. He had thought of everything.

'No!' Selemene cried, realising the futility of Her efforts. 'What have you done to them?'

'I protected them from you.' The Invoker thrust his hand forwards, the orbs shooting forth. Fire lashed Selemene's form, scorching Her sacred robes and stinging Her skin. Lightning smashed against Her, and it was all She could do to resist.

Staggering back, Her arms singed and steaming, She tried to muster what little power She could. Kael's followers had severed the links to Her surviving soldiers, killing many of them to deny Her the energy within their faith and their souls.

'You… you can't do this!' She hissed, falling to Her knees. 'If Mene returns...'

Kael stepped closer, and She realised that reason would not sway him. Not now. Gone was the man She had once loved, entombed in the hard, stony heart of the Invoker. She should have known, She was the one who had killed Kael.

'You have brought this upon yourself, my love.' The Invoker lifted his hand. The lotuses glided around him, pulsing as they opened, ready to receive Selemene's power. 'You will live as I have lived. You will bear witness to Mene's return, and you will watch all that you have built, all that you have loved, turn to dust, as I have. That is your punishment, and mine.'

Fymryn turned away as blinding silver light erupted from Selemene. She could not block out the screams as the Invoker ripped the goddess' divine might from Her, forcing it into the lotuses.

This was how it had to be, she told herself. This was what they had to do, so that Mene could return and the rest of the Coriel'Tauvi could return home and stop living in fear.

Luna clutched at her heart, teeth gritted, groaning, too weak to stand. She had always hated weakness, and with the truth of Selemene's ruthlessness revealed, the doubts had resurfaced once again.

A second chance? Was that what she had been given? Or had she been given the opportunity to do what she had once revelled in? The things she had tried to escape?

She had wanted to stop being a murderer. Selemene had sworn that she would do righteous work. But now, as Selemene screamed, she remembered the child she had left to burn back in Coedwig, the memory of their screams merging with Selemene's.

Selemene hadn't redeemed her at all. She had just made her a more zealous murderer, a better murderer.

The violet lotuses shone blindingly as Selemene collapsed, alive, but drained and weak.

The Invoker sighed. 'I never wanted this. This was your doing. You forced my hand, my love. Now we both pay the price for your ambition.' He turned, the lotuses floating behind him. 'We are done here.'

Selemene lay where he left Her, ragged, bleeding and weeping.

Luna opened her eyes. She should have been dismayed to see a goddess, her goddess no less, broken upon the ground, surrounded by the bodies of her comrades. She should have felt disgusted, for she loathed weakness. She certainly felt no pity.

Instead, she felt betrayed. Selemene had also promised to protect them. She had failed to do even that.

Luna turned away, her gaze lingering upon the Nightblade. Fymryn looked down at her. There was something in her eyes. It was not pity, not quite, but something else Luna could not comprehend.

Nobody had ever shown her mercy before. Never.

Luna tried to open her mouth. She wanted the elf to finish it, to have her vengeance, to put Luna out of her misery. She deserved to die. She wanted to die. Why was this elf afraid of killing her?

Luna closed her mouth as the elf turned away, following the Invoker, shaking slightly from nerves and her ebbing adrenaline.

Fymryn was many things, Luna realised, but a coward was not one of them. Luna had killed many people, many innocents, to protect herself from retribution. Fymryn had taken a chance by letting Luna live, knowing full well that Luna might seek revenge.

It took greater courage to spare a life than to take one.

Luna closed her eyes again, tears leaking from under her eyelids. She truly knew now what it felt like to be damned.

High above, the scarred moon began to bleed.


Fymryn glanced up at the moon above, aware of how foreboding it was. How long would it be before Mene returned? And could She be convinced to be merciful?

'You did well, Fymryn.' The Invoker told her, the darkening lotuses floating along behind him. 'Mene will be pleased with you.'

The army marched around them, reeking of sweat and blood. The wounded were being hauled along by their comrades, the dead carried on the backs of cockatrices for burial later. She could sense mingled elation and tension amongst them, along with an undercurrent of grief for their fallen friends.

What about the Dark Moon Order's soldiers? They were people too, and a great many of them had died tonight, the survivors left to dispose of the dead and mourn them, and see to the needs of a broken goddess. Their very faith had been brought crashing down around them.

Fymryn strained her ears as they walked away, hearing voices on the breeze. They were not just cries of anguish. There were words there too, and it took her a moment to realise that there was a tune too. The survivors in the Temple ground were singing.

'What is that?' Fymryn asked. 'Is that a hymn?'

'It is a lament for Selemene, a dirge for a goddess weakened and deposed,' the Invoker murmured. 'A requiem for the Usurper.'

Though she could not die, Selemene had been rendered helpless against Mene. The true Moon Goddess would be upon them once again.

Fymryn shivered. Had she just helped to usher in salvation, restoring a wronged deity to Her rightful place? Or had she unleashed damnation and vengeance upon the entire world?


I'll admit that a fair amount of Luna's backstory here was inspired by the works of WhereverMySITakesMe on AO3, who has also been kind enough to support my efforts. They've written a lot of interesting stories about Luna. If you like things dark, gritty and a bit like GoT, give them a read. In particular, her possible status as a half-elf and her knowing Drysi were inspired by the works of WhereverMySITakesMe.