I can feel her darkness.

I can feel her darkness.
Aria’s POV

The ground trembles beneath the march of countless feet, a steady rhythm of boots striking stone and paws digging into the earth, a sound that rolls like thunder through the mountains and announces to the world that war is on the move. I walk at Darius’s side, his tall frame casting a shadow that merges with mine in the pale morning light, and though my body moves with purpose, my soul feels stretched thin, as though pulled in two directions at once, the weight of the warriors behind us and the invisible pull of something far ahead.
The air is crisp, almost sharp in my lungs, but beneath it lingers a taste I cannot ignore, a taint of smoke and ash and something older, something rotting, the stench of Lilith’s darkness bleeding into the wind. It creeps like fingers across the back of my neck, slides into the marrow of my bones, whispering of hidden things, broken oaths, and shadows that should never have been born. Every step I take only seems to sharpen it, until I am certain that I am not imagining it, that the darkness is not scattered and drifting, but gathering, dense and certain, calling to me.
Florence walks just behind us, her dark hair braided back, her eyes watchful as she murmurs quiet blessings over the soldiers she passes, threads of silver light spilling from her fingers like sparks that kiss their armour and shield them against the unseen. She notices the way my shoulders stiffen, and though she says nothing, her presence settles against me like a hand upon my back, a reminder that I am not alone in carrying the weight of what lies ahead.
Still, I cannot shake the certainty that Lilith is near. Not only near, but waiting, watching. Her power beats through the mountains like a heartbeat, slow and steady, but I can feel its direction, the way a wolf scents prey hidden beyond the trees. It lies north, tucked deep into the folds of the crags where the peaks rise jagged and cruel, where caves bite into the stone like mouths hungry for the living.
I open my eyes and find Darius watching me out of the corner of his gaze, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword as though my silence alone warns him of danger. “You feel it,” he says, not as a question, but as a truth already known.
“Yes,” I answer softly, my voice nearly lost in the chorus of marching feet and the clink of armour. “She is close. She hides in the northern caves, but she does not hide in fear. She hides to wait, to gather. She wants us to come, Darius. She wants us to meet her where the darkness is strongest.”
His jaw tightens, but his eyes never waver from the path ahead. “Then we will come. We will break her there.”
I want to believe the certainty in his tone, want to let it wrap around me like a shield, but the truth presses sharper against me. Lilith does not wait idly. Every moment that passes, she whispers to the creatures of shadow, calling them to her, bending their fear into loyalty. Yet even as I think it, another truth surges against me, warm and undeniable. She fears me. She fears the light I carry, the bond that ties me to Darius, the strength that grows not from darkness but from love. So she seeks to break it, to tear the thread that binds us, because she knows if she fails, she cannot win. The thought stirs something fierce within me.
We climb higher along the narrow pass, the wind biting colder now, pulling at cloaks and scattering loose strands of hair into my eyes. Below, the valley sprawls wide and endless, rivers carving silver lines through the green, but above us looms only stone, stark and unyielding. The warriors march without complaint, their steps steady, their eyes fixed forward, yet I know the fatigue clings at their edges, the wounds from the last battle healed but not forgotten. I hear the Lycans shifting restlessly, their low growls rumbling like thunder through the ranks, eager for the fight they know is coming.
As the day drags on, the shadows lengthen, spilling across the mountains like black ink. I feel Lilith then more than ever, her presence thick in the air, her voice a whisper in the wind, taunting, promising ruin. My hand drifts to the small bottle at my side, the one gifted to me by the girl at the stream, the tears of Selene. Though the bottle is empty now, its memory burns bright in my chest, a reminder that I am not abandoned to face this darkness alone. The Moon Goddess is watching, guiding, and her strength has become mine.
Florence falls into step beside me, her eyes sharp, her voice low. “You feel her more strongly now, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, unable to hide the tremor in my breath. “She is not far. By tomorrow night, if we keep this pace, we will reach her lair. We will end her!”
The march stretches long into the fading light, and when at last the order comes to halt, the warriors settle in the narrow valley where stone cliffs rise on either side, a place chosen for its defensible ground, though I cannot help but feel the looming press of the mountains like jaws closing in. Fires spark to life, their glow casting golden circles in the dark, laughter and voices rising softly as the soldiers share food and sharpen weapons. It should feel comforting, this moment of pause, but the unease never leaves me, for even with the warmth of the flames and the steady rhythm of Darius’s presence at my side, I feel the darkness pressing closer.
I wander a little apart, the sky above vast and scattered with stars, the moon pale and thin as though saving its full brilliance for the blood moon to come. I lift my face to it, letting its cold light spill across my skin, and I whisper a silent prayer, not for myself, but for all those who march with us, for the lives that hang in the balance of these days. I do not ask for victory, I ask for strength, for the endurance to see this through, for the light to outlast the darkness no matter how deep it runs. When I return to the camp, Darius waits at the edge of the firelight, his gaze fixed on me, the question unspoken in his eyes. I reach for his hand, let my fingers curl into his, and for a long moment we say nothing, only breathe in the same rhythm, our hearts beating the same steady vow.
Lilith hides in the mountains ahead. Her darkness calls to us. But so too does the light within me burn brighter, a flame that no shadow can snuff out. As we march toward her, I know with every step that she feels it too, the certainty that her reign ends not beneath the blood moon, but before it.