Chapter 66 Sixty-five
Chapter 66 Sixty-five
CHAPTER 65
THE CRACK IN THE MIRROR
POV – IRIA
The world had felt louder since the Blood Moon passed, every sound sharper, every whisper edged in static. Yet that morning at the academy felt too quiet.
She sat beneath the willow near the east courtyard, notes scattered on the grass, pretending to study. The air carried the faint scent of iron from the practice field, but beneath it ran another trace, something cold and secret, like rain trapped in stone.
Clara’s laughter drifted from the fountain steps. It sounded normal. It should have been normal.
But Iria’s chest tightened all the same.
She watched her friend talk with the other students, smiling, graceful, even playful, but there was a stillness around her movements, as if each smile was measured before release. The warmth that usually spilled from Clara now felt… rehearsed.
Iria pressed a hand to her own heart.
It beat too fast.
1. THE UNEASY SILENCE
Later, in the library, Clara sat opposite her. Books between them, lamplight flickering. Everything appeared ordinary, the turning of pages, the scratch of quills, but something invisible hovered in the space between.
Clara’s eyes caught hers once. For a heartbeat Iria saw something vast and hollow looking back. Not hatred. Not sorrow. Just absence.
She nearly asked, What happened to you?
Instead she said, softly, “You’ve been distant.”
Clara smiled. “Just tired.”
A lie, smooth as silk.
Iria heard the tremor beneath it, the kind of tremor that meant walls had been built overnight.
2. THE SHATTERED THREAD
That evening, Iria returned to her dorm and found the small note slipped under her door. Anonymous, unmarked.
> Ask why the professors suddenly know your lineage.
Ask who told them about the Moonfire child.
Her throat closed.
The parchment shook in her hand.
She thought of Clara again, the strange glances, the new calm, the way her touch had grown rare. A faint ringing filled her ears. She didn’t need proof. The truth was already forming inside her like a bruise.
It was you.
The betrayal landed softly, like dust settling after an explosion.
No shout, no confrontation, only a stillness so complete it hurt.
3. THE WEIGHT OF KNOWING
Night deepened. The moon hung pale and ghostlike above the dorm roofs.
Iria sat on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, trying to breathe through the ache.
She had trusted Clara with everything, her dreams, her fears, the mystery of her past. She’d thought friendship could be a refuge from the academy’s politics, from Grey’s possessive energy and Brian’s calculated loyalty. But now even that refuge was gone.
Every memory rewound itself: the smiles, the whispers, the promises of always.
Each one felt false.
The glass of the window mirrored her face, eyes rimmed in moonlight.
A hairline crack ran through the lower pane, splitting her reflection in two.
She touched the glass. It felt like touching herself across a distance that could never close.
4. THE INNER STORM
Her power stirred, the hidden pulse that had always frightened her. The lunar mark beneath her skin glowed faintly, responding to emotion she could no longer contain.
Light shimmered between her fingers, pale and uncertain. She forced herself to breathe until it faded. If she let it grow uncontrolled, someone would notice. And the professors already knew too much.
She whispered into the darkness, “Why, Clara?”
No answer came,only the echo of her own voice, sounding smaller each time.
5. THE QUIET RESOLVE
By dawn, the hurt had hardened into clarity.
If trust had been broken, she would learn why. She would trace the chain that led from Clara’s silence to the academy’s new suspicions, and she would uncover who pulled the first thread.
But beneath that determination, another truth bloomed, dangerous and luminous:
She still cared.
Even after betrayal, the bond refused to die.
Iria wiped her tears, straightened her shoulders, and whispered a vow to the pale morning light:
> “No more pretending. If the moon chose me, it must have been for this.”
The mirror crack glinted one last time before catching the sunrise, splitting the light into twin beams, one gold, one silver, crossing over her heart.