Maddox shuffles uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his winter coat as he considers my request. "I'm not sure why it matters much to you, but sure. I... want to get a fire going first though," he says, gesturing to the fireplace.

I step closer and take a better look at the inside of the stone pit. There's more ash than wood in the fireplace, so even if we light it, it won't burn for long. Not unless we find something to feed the flames. It's pouring outside, so our best bet is to look for things inside to help us.

But first, we need to start the fire.

"Any ideas?" he murmurs.

I turn to him after a moment when an idea does actually come to mind. "The spell you used to boil the blood of those harpies... what happens if you use it on something solid, rather than a liquid?" I ask wearily.

"It would take any potential moisture out of the wood, most likely, but I've never been able to start a fire with that spell. It boils liquids only."

I figured as much, but this is still discouraging to hear. "Unfortunate, but that makes sense," I sigh, turning to survey the room for anything flammable. "Fire magic isn't possible unless you're a Sunborn, I'm sure."

"True, but Alberich made sure the Sunborns were reduced to nothing more than a myth, so fire magic isn't possible at all anymore." He clicks his tongue after a brief pause when he remembers the obvious. "No, that's not right. Starborns can harness Sun magic. You could start a fire for us now that I think about it."

My body tenses. I think this is the first time I've ever heard Maddox mention my father, and he is also the first person to call him by his first name. Nobody calls him Alberich except my mother; it's Van Blake to everyone else. As a Moonborn who defends humans, I'm sure Maddox must have some strong opinions about my dad, but I'm not sure that I want to hear them.

I vaguely wonder if he has put two and two together by now and discovered that I'm Alberich Van Blake's daughter. I wouldn't put it past him with how observant he is. Could that be another reason he may want me dead? Because my father would and has killed the same mortals he chooses to protect?

No. No, he would've said something, wouldn't he? There's no way he knows who I truly am... But would it be such a bad thing if he did know? If I told him? Would he hate and fear me and my family just as Cyrus and the other mortals do?

What am I thinking? Of course he would. Anyone would. The name Van Blake holds too much weight for us and for the ones that surround us.

I try not to dwell on it, but it's frustratingly unfair—being judged simply for being born under a controversial man. 

Speaking of my father, he would burn every bridge and turn over every mountain to find and punish me if I used Sun magic. It is forbidden, yet he chose to keep and raise me, a Starborn who is capable of such magic, as his daughter. I gaze back over at Maddox disapprovingly. "Sun magic is illegal. My father would kill me," I mutter with uncertainty.

He gives me a flat look. "It's illegal in Lunaria, sure, but we don't know where we are. We're not even in a proper reality right now. I think legal is relative at this point, don't you?" he asks, cocking his head to the side in disbelief. "Would your father truly expect you to freeze to death over some ridiculous law?" he scoffs.

I laugh silently and without humor. "You don't know my dad. Besides, I wouldn't know how to use Sun magic anyway."

"Isn't that what the journal Astrid gave you is for?" he asks. 

I bite my tongue, giving him a stubborn look.  

He grins after a moment. "Fine, we'll try and find another option, but if we fall short, you might just have to risk getting on your father's bad side."

"That's not what I..." I trail off, not sure of what I want to say. At this point, I'm not sure I care too much about what my father thinks. Not after he let me believe that I was a Moonborn my entire life. But what about the dangers of Sun magic? It's the most destructive form of magic and many believe that Sun magic is what drove Henrik O'Helio and his children mad before my father purged their whole faction. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "I just... don't know if it's safe."

Confusion knits his brows together. "If what's safe?" he asks.

"Sun magic," I breathe shakily as a cold breeze crawls through the open cracks in the walls. The unstable home creaks eerily until the wind settles back down. "What if it makes me go crazy or something? Isn't that what happened to most of the Sunborns? That's why Van Blake killed them all," I say, taking care not to refer to the ruler of Lunaria as my father. 

If one of the Moonborns didn't open their mouths, Dolion has likely already spilled the beans to the mortals on the island out of spite, but until I know for sure, I still don't want Maddox or anyone else to know where I come from if I can help it. It isn't worth the risk.

He shrugs as another icy breeze rolls in, making me shake. "I suppose. Then again, I wasn't there to witness any of it firsthand, so I try to keep an open mind about most things. You learn more that way," he says with a shrug.

I remove my arms from the sleeves of my oversized coat and wrap them around my torso for more warmth. "An open mind, huh? Is that why you seem to know so much about everything?" I ask dryly.

"I wouldn't say I know everything, Love," he replies, brushing past me to poke his head into the back closet again. "I just don't believe in taking things at face value. I like to see things for myself whenever I can—details and all," he explains, his voice muffled from inside the small closet. He clears his throat as he ruffles through what sounds like papers. "With that being said, I still have a high respect for history, of course, so I understand your reluctance."

I ponder his words. I relate to this in a lot of ways—wanting to know everything you can. It's why I always loved school and listening to my mother read to me when I was young. Keeping my mind busy keeps me from spiraling into the darker thoughts that I'd rather keep tucked away.

Maddox is naturally just as curious as I am, maybe even more so since he's more inclined to jump into risky situations with an... 'open mind.'

"Ah, here we are!" Maddox exclaims suddenly. He stands up and turns to reveal a rusty fire striker and a small flint shard. Relief washes through me. There isn't much wood in the fireplace, but at least we can light what remains. "This should work," he murmurs.

He strides past me and stoops down at the fireplace to strike the flint against the steel piece. Cautiously, I wander over to him and drop to my knees at his side. Sparks emit from the tools in his hands, but it takes him about four strikes until a fire is produced. 

He lowers his hands, watching as the orange flames timidly rise and dance with a crackle to the remaining pieces of wood in the pit. Burning wood makes my nose wrinkle, but the warmth from the flames is a welcome sensation. However, the fire isn't very prominent, and I worry that it may snuff out in a matter of minutes at this rate. Maddox must be anticipating the same because he swiftly rises to his feet and rushes over to the back closet again. 

"What are you doing?" I ask but receive no verbal answer.

My ears are met with the sound of rustling papers again and then he is back at my side in a brief moment, a small stack of worn papers in hand. The pages appear to be blank at first but moments before he tosses them into the fire, I see the details of what looks to be some sort of sketch on the backside of one of the papers.

My heart twists between saudade and fondness. My mother has always been artistic, but she had many projects that were left unfinished when her sickness got too severe. She would draw and paint, and I would always watch her do so with so much wonder and awe in my youthful eyes. Just as I listened with so much excitement when she would read Atlas and me stories of fiction, my eyes would soak in the beauty of her art just the same. Of course, this was when I was still a little girl—when your mother is larger than life. 

Now, she is quite the opposite. She's a small, withered shell of the woman I wish I could have one last real conversation with. And between the war going on back home and her sickness, I may not even have the opportunity to try to search for that woman beneath the dark magic that plagues her anymore. 

Could she really be gone? I can't even imagine my father's anguish if she is.

"There," Maddox sighs, watching the flames eat the pages and grow in size. He turns to look at me and does a doubletake. "Are you okay?" His tone is sincere, concerned even.

I blink at him and when I do, I feel my eyes burn with unshed tears. I didn't realize how badly I missed my mom and even my dad, despite all that I've discovered about him. I know it's meaningless to think it, but I want to go home. So. Much.

I clear my throat, composing myself. "I'm just tired and it's cold," I say coolly as I poke my arms back into the sleeves of my coat. "What were those papers? They looked like drawings."

I hold my hands out in front of me, and the heat from the fireplace feels amazing, but it makes me feel guilty. Nova could very well be braving the same weather as us, and I can only hope she finds warmth if that's the case.

"It was my mother's stuff," Maddox answers, earning a frown from me. And he just burned it? Like nothing? He shrugs at my judgment and adds, "Seeing as this is just a duplicate world, I don't see the need to be sentimental about it."

Makes sense. "Fair enough," I agree before settling into a more comfortable sitting position. "So, your mother liked to draw then?"

He copies me in readjusting himself and taking a seat before the fireplace. "No, they were gifts. She couldn't draw a straight line if her life depended on it," he says with a fond laugh. 

So that it isn't rubbing so painfully against my skin, I remove the journal Astrid gave me from my waistline and place it between Maddox and myself. "Gifts? From you?" I guess, raising an eyebrow.

"Some of them, yes. Most were from a friend of hers."

He chuckles after a moment. "I couldn't draw a straight line either, but my mother was very sentimental and loved anything I made anyway." 'Was', he says again. He speaks of his mother in the past tense. Did she die or were they separated somehow?

"You said this was your village,  and this house is where you and your mother lived, I assume?" I question in a small voice, feeling a little guilty for asking such personal questions.

He nods, seemingly unbothered by my curiosity so far. "It was just my mother and I for a long time before Cyrus came along."

My head snaps up, and he's about to tell me more, but I interrupt him. "I'm sorry, what? Cyrus? I was under the impression the first time you and Cyrus met was on the island." 

He notices my bewilderment and gives me a tight smile. "I prefer that it comes across that way to newcomers, but Cyrus is my younger brother. He and his father moved into our village when I was nine," he explains matter-of-factly.

I stare wordlessly at the accented man for a moment. I don't think he ever specified how he and Cyrus met, but still, why not introduce Cyrus as his brother right away? Why not be so open about this truth? Was it intentional? 

I turn away, still processing his words. "So... his father isn't yours?" I ask.

"No."

"And your mother wasn't his?" I continue, earning another nod from him. "So, he's your stepbrother," I declare with uncertainty. 

I see him shrug from the corner of my eye. "I suppose so... if you want to be technical about it, but blood isn't always thicker than water. Sometimes we get to choose our family, blood or not. And in my eyes, he's just my brother. Just Cyrus."

Cyrus hates Moonborns, but Maddox has always been the exception and this is why. It makes so, so much more sense now.  The two men who share the same accent have known each other since Maddox, who is now twenty-one, was nine. They are brothers through and through. I've seen them bicker as such, and Cyrus's worry for Maddox's life was heavier than anyone else's on the island.

You'd think growing up with a Moonborn brother would quell some of Cyrus's rage for my kind. Well, what I thought was my kind until recently.

I stare at him in disbelief. "Why... Why don't you like people knowing? And why tell me?" I question, still puzzled.

His upside-down smile curves his lips. "It's not that I don't want people to know. I specifically don't want Dolion to know, so I don't tell most people for fear of it getting back around to him. And I'm telling you because I trust you, and I want you to know," he says, watching me thoughtfully.

My heart flutters. He trusts me? Really? 

Well, the feeling isn't mutual, which I'm sure he's fully aware of. Maybe that's why he's saying this to me, to manipulate me.

I sit up straight and let the warmth of his words roll off of me, turning my nose up at him. I can't let some sweet words make me forget about Leo's demise. The same demise Maddox would have me fated to.

"Why don't you want Dolion knowing?" I ask.

He's quiet for a moment, letting his eyes wander around the room. "Because he'll assume something dangerous."

Well, that's cryptic. "Which is... what?" I press.

He gives me a tight smile. "This will have to be filed under the I can't tell you category, Love."

My lips twitch into a brief smile. Figures. "I thought you trusted me," I retort.

His smile drops. "I do but I've made promises that I can't break."

My curiosity is at its peak, but I can see it in his eyes that he will not budge on this mysterious secret. It feels like... he's protecting someone, but who? Cyrus? His mother?

A defeated sigh escapes me. I tug my coat more securely around me and realize that it is so big because it's a man's coat. Likely Maddox's stepfather's since this place burned when he and Cyrus were still kids.

Could this secret have something to do with Cyrus's father, perhaps? The only way to find out what Maddox is hiding would be to tell Dolion that he and Cyrus are brothers and see what happens, but the thought of doing that makes me feel uneasy.

My eyes wander, observing the two smaller beds, both the perfect size for Juniper, in the corner of the room behind us and the larger one, more suited for two adults, on the opposite end of the home. Despite the condition the home is in now, it is obvious this place was never extravagant. I do sense that there was once a welcoming unique charm to the quaint space, but Maddox and his family were not financially thriving by the looks of it. I couldn't imagine constantly living in the same room as my entire family. I think I would go mad.

A shiver runs through me, so I scootch a bit closer to the fireplace. The air wafting in from the outside is becoming increasingly cooler. The rain is pounding more heavily against the rooftop, seeping through the holes and crevices and suggesting that we will be trapped in here longer than I'd like.

Well, all we have is time then, and Maddox prefers that I be more upfront with him. "Well, what happened then? After Cyrus and his dad moved in?" I implore.

"Well, Cyrus didn't like me too much at first, but I was over the Moon. I had gotten what I always wanted—a friend. My village didn't have very many children, and there was a significant age gap between me and the ones we did have, so none of them took to me very well. But Cyrus and I were only a couple of years apart."

'I was afraid of the person that caused that fire all those years ago.' This is what Maddox said to me when we were trapped in the darker version of my family's castle, but he never told me if I was right or not—when I asked him if Cyrus was the one who started the fire.

Maddox continues before I get the chance to respond. "Anyway, you said you wanted to know more about the fire in the village, so I'll just cut to that. Long story short, Cyrus's father wasn't the best person." He pauses and peers down at the crackling embers with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. "I won't go into specifics as it is Cyrus's story to choose to tell or not, but everything that happened leading up to the fire ties back to Nicholas."

"Nicholas?" I echo.

He looks over at me again. "Yes, Nicholas was my stepfather's name. Nicholas Kilburn."

"Is he the one who caused the fire, then? The one you said you were afraid of?" I question.

He purses his lips. "I said I won't go into details, Callie," he says, running a shaky hand through his blonde waves. "I told you: I'll tell you anything you want to know, but if I can't, I will tell you that instead. So, this is that. This is something else I cannot speak about, and I'm sorry."

As much as I want to know more, I leave it be. Maddox is respecting his brother's privacy and I have to admire that. "That's okay," I reassure him, sounding indifferent. I understand leaving Cyrus and his father out of it, but Maddox knows about my fears, and I still want to know more about his. "I know... I... I know you said you lost people you loved in the fire, so if you'd rather not talk about it anymore, then you don't have to. Honestly, I'm just curious because when I came back to this dimension to find you, I woke up in some sort of dream, and you were in it."

"A dream?" he questions with concern.

I nod. "Yes, I was in this same village. More buildings were still standing, but everything was burning, and a little boy was looking for his mom." I swallow the dryness in my throat, hesitating before finally admitting the rest. "I... I think you were little the boy."

Realization raises his chin, and he closes his eyes for a moment. "So, you were there. I saw you before I woke up." He stays silent and I do the same, unsure of what to say next. After a long exhale, he reopens his eyes and turns to me. "That was me, yes. I had been reliving that nightmare for what felt like forever anytime I would fall asleep. Then, I saw you on my front porch, and I woke up to find you lying next to me. I figured the dimension was playing tricks on me, but with how tired I was, it isn't that surprising that you truly managed to get into my mind."

"I didn't do it on purpose," I reply defensively. "Honestly, until I met you I only thought magic could poison someone's psyche—make them see things that aren't there. I learned about it in school, but we were never taught how to look into memories, or anything else true for that matter."

"Hmm. Well, for me, looking that deep into someone's mind requires krymméni mageía." Hidden Magic is what he said that means. Maddox taps his chin wordlessly for a moment, and my eyes fall on the journal between us, zeroing in on the sunstone embedded at the center. "But even so, it makes sense. Illusions are a Moonborn's best friend, as I'm sure you're already aware," he murmurs.

He's correct. Moonborns are best known for illusion spells and heavy defense magic, however, tampering with someone's mind could be used in both defense and offense. Dolion Locke is very aware of this as it is what helped him win his Moon Gathering.

Felling a little warmer now, I push the hood of my coat from my head and untangle my loose strands of hair from the wool inside, but my chest constricts as the realization slowly strikes. "Oh," I breathe, dropping my hands to my sides.

"What is it?" Maddox asks.

I readjust my coat over my torso, shaking my head. "You're right. It makes perfect sense. What good would looking into someone's memories do for me in a fight to the death?" I mutter scornfully.

"What are you talking about?" he asks with tensed shoulders.

I arch a brow at him. "The Moon Gathering," I say slowly.

His mouth opens and closes briefly and his head dips."Oh, that's right," he answers with a deep frown.

Confusion releases me when it dawns on me that Maddox's only sibling doesn't share the same bloodline and is human. At least I think Cyrus is his only sibling. "Wait, so you were an only child before Cyrus came along, right?" 

His eyes return to mine and he nods. I let his words sink in. Maddox once told me he was from Helianthus, not Lunaria. Now I see why that is. It's illegal to have only one Moonborn child in Lunaria.

"I... never had to worry about the Moon Gathering. But Atlas looks like he must be of age by now, so why haven't—"

"I ended up on the island the day after his twenty-second birthday. Our being here is the only reason my siblings and I haven't had our ceremony yet."

His face pales. "But when we escape the island—"

"If we escape," I say coldly.

Disapproval shoots through his eyes at me. "No, when we escape, Callie. When," he says forcefully.

I sigh. "To answer your question, yes, my family's Moon Gathering will be inevitable."

"Not if you don't go home." I almost laugh at his suggestion. Like that's so easy. "I'm serious, Callie. I was on my own for a long time after I left my home, and as awful as it was at times, it offered so many possibilities. I could go anywhere, be anyone. Discover anything and everything this world holds. You and your siblings would not only live, but you'd be happy."

That's not an option when it comes to my father, but I can't exactly explain that to Maddox. Not unless I want to come right out and say my father is the one who wrote the laws of the Moon Gathering. 

Maddox may be a Moonborn, but he's not from Lunaria. He defends mortals and has now proven to me that he does not understand or endorse the customs of our people. At this rate, I have no idea what he thinks about the Van Blake family.

He speaks again before I get the chance, his voice laced with infuriation. "You're not even a Moonborn. Surely, you aren't expected to participate. It's physically impossible for Starborns to lose their magic. You would die, and your family's bloodline would remain unaffected. You'd die for nothing, Callie."

This can't be right. I may not be a Moonborn, but I am a Van Blake. My magic has to have some effect on my family's bloodline upon my death... doesn't it? My father wouldn't send me to my death for the sake of saving face, would he?

My father's last words to me before I disappeared make my ears ring, breaking my thoughts.

'You won't be the one dying.'

According to my father, I won't be exempt from the ceremony, but then why did he say those words to me? Does he think that I, as a Starborn, will overpower my siblings? Or does he have other plans for me?

I suppose it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Escape isn't an option for me, but even if it was, I could never abandon my siblings, let alone live without them.

"I can't just leave my home behind, Maddox." 

Starborn or not, there's no way my father would let me sit out of the Moon Gathering. Everyone in Selene City and eventually all of Lunaria would have more than just a few questions as to why Alberich Van Blake is making exceptions for me.

"But you can't just—"

"I thought we were talking about you, not me," I interject, narrowing my eyes at his stubborn gaze.

He huffs heavily, breaking eye contact. "Alright," he says gruffly. "Just as you once said to me, I will let this go for now. But this isn't the end of this conversation," he declares. When I don't respond, he turns to me again, eyes intense and obstinate. The kind of look that commands to be understood.

The change in his demeanor is almost intimidating. "I want to know how the dream ends," I announce resolutely. He stays silent, still staring, jaw locked tight. Besides the sizzling of the fire and the persistence of the rain, it is heavily quiet between us. This time, I break our eye contact. "You said you'd tell me," I insist.

I keep my eyes glued to the orange waves, holding my hands out for more warmth, pretending to be unaware of his persistent stare. Despite my curiosity, I let Maddox keep his secrets for now; he can do the same for me. My family and our belated Moon Gathering are my concerns, not his.

After a few drawn-out moments, I see him finally look away out of the corner of my eye and I relax. Thank the Moon, he's letting it go.

"It's better if I just show you," Maddox finally says. I turn to look at him, about to question his words, but I'm taken off guard when he places a hand against the side of my face. My body immediately tenses, and the sensation of magic hums from his warm hand.

Instinctively, I slap my hand over his but freeze when the world begins to crumble, much like it did when Maddox showed me Juniper and Atlas's fates before they escaped the second dimension.

Only this time, I'm pulled into a world that is less than familiar to me. The sound of the rain battering against the walls stops, and the goosebumps on my arms vanish as I take in the sight before me. 

Under clearer skies, but a sun that is nearly set, is a little boy crouched beside a shallow but steady river. Bright marigolds are scattered throughout the deep green bed of grass surrounding the boy. Birds chirp lazily, signaling that dusk is near, and more patches of multicolored flowers can be seen further off in the distance, swaying gently in the wind.

But despite the astonishing beauty surrounding us, the familiar little boy, with gentle, brown eyes speckled with amber is crying softly. The river scarcely drowns out his dismal sounds.

I take a step of uncertainty in his direction but freeze when he abruptly stands up, fists balled at his sides. Roughly and frantically, he then swipes at his face, eager to rid himself of his relentless tears.

I resume, walking closer to the frustrated boy. Unsure of what to say, all I can muster up is his name. 

"Maddox?"

-------- author's note

Hey all! I haven't been sleeping well this week, so please forgive me if there are many errors in this. I will do a re-edit when my brain doesn't feel like it's full of cobwebs, haha.

But more importantly, I'm leaving a note here because I wanted to thank @rebecca_batteur for her recent review of this story. I've received a handful of reviews now, but hers was AN HOUR LONG, very detailed, and insightful, and she read all of the chapters??? It was so helpful to get a sense of how my story/characters come across to a reader, so thank you, Rebecca!

Please go show her some support. From what I've read of hers so far, she is highly underrated and a wonderful storyteller! And also a very meticulous and thoughtful reviewer, which I greatly admire! Hope you all have a great week! xo