Chapter 115 You're eyes
Celeste:
When I opened my eyes that morning, there was no relief—only a heavy, persistent weight pressing behind my eyelids. It wasn’t the sharp, blinding agony of the night before, the kind that had dragged me into unconsciousness. This was quieter. Deeper. Something that had settled in overnight and refused to leave, watching, waiting.
I lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling while the fragments of last night slowly returned: the corridor, the surge of anger, the sudden collapse of my body. My fingers twitched against the sheets. I was still here. That alone felt like a small, stubborn victory.
With effort, I pushed myself upright. My body felt foreign, as though something beneath my skin had shifted during the night. I raised a hand to my face, fingertips brushing carefully beneath my eyes. The skin there was tender and sensitive.
“I need these eyes,” I murmured, the words barely more than a breath.
It wasn’t drama. It was simple truth. Without them, I was nothing.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, steadying myself before walking to the basin. The reflection that stared back at me was acceptable—pale and a little drawn, perhaps, but composed. Controlled. No one would suspect I had crumpled to the floor like something broken only hours earlier.
I undressed slowly and stepped into the bath, letting the water cascade over me. It should have been soothing, but it felt like nothing more than a delay. My mind refused to quiet, circling the same uneasy thought: something had gone wrong. Not visibly. Not yet. But I had felt it. Seen it. Even if I still couldn’t fully grasp what it was.
The moment I closed my eyes, the pressure behind them sharpened like a warning. Don’t look too deep. I opened them at once.
No. Not now.
I would not lose control over something I didn’t yet understand.
By the time I stepped out, dried myself, and dressed, every trace of weakness had been erased. My posture was straight, my expression calm, my hair neatly tied with not a single strand out of place. The mask I wore for the world was back in perfect order.
I stepped into the corridor with measured steps, as though this were any other morning. But it wasn’t. Nothing was the same anymore.
The closer I drew to the Luna’s chambers, the sharper my focus became. All my thoughts narrowed, centering on one person.
Maureen.
The guards outside her door straightened at my approach. Their expressions hovered somewhere between caution and recognition.
“Good morning,” I said smoothly, offering a small, respectful dip of my head.
One of them nodded. “The Luna is awake.”
“I’ll attend to her,” I replied, not waiting for permission before stepping forward.
The door opened, and I entered the room with quiet grace.
“My Luna,” I greeted, lowering my head respectfully. “Good morning. How are you feeling today?”
My voice was gentle, perfectly measured—the soft tone I had spent years perfecting.
Maureen studied me a moment longer than usual.
“You weren’t active yesterday,” she said slowly, lifting her teacup to her lips. “Why was that?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I apologize, my Luna. I was unwell.”
“Have you seen the doctor?”
“No, not yet,” I answered calmly. “I assumed it would pass. It didn’t seem serious.”
She hummed softly, considering my words, then set the cup down with a quiet clink.
“Very well. In that case… why don’t you make me some tea?”
My gaze remained steady. “What kind would you like, my Luna?”
Her reply came without pause.
“Moonveil Tea.”
For a fraction of a second, everything inside me stilled.
Moonveil.
Of all the teas she could have chosen.
“Yes, my Luna,” I said, bowing my head before turning away.
The moment I left the room, the air grew heavier. Each step toward the preparation area felt weighted. It’s just tea, I told myself. Harmless to her.
But not to me.
Especially not while I carried a fox demon’s eye—and fox demons never went near the Moonveil plant.
Still, I prepared it. Of course I did.
The pale, almost silver leaves released a soft, soothing scent as they steeped, promising calm and balance. How ironic.
I carried the tray back with perfectly steady hands and placed the cup before her.
“My Luna.”
She looked at the tea, then at me.
“Drink it with me.”
The request caught me off guard, but my expression didn’t waver.
“Of course,” I replied.
Because refusal was never an option.
I poured a second cup, lifted it to my lips, and drank.
At first, there was only warmth and the faint herbal taste. Then the discomfort began—subtle at first, blooming behind my eyes like a distant echo of pain. It quickly deepened, growing hotter, sharper. My grip tightened on the cup, but I kept my face perfectly composed.
“Aren’t you enjoying it?” Maureen asked lightly.
“I am, my Luna,” I answered, my voice still steady.
Lies.
The room seemed to shrink around me. My vision flickered.
“I’ll take my leave,” I said after a moment, setting the cup down carefully. “There are other duties I must attend to.”
She nodded, unbothered.
The second I stepped out of her chambers, I moved faster—controlled urgency, never quite running. The moment my own door closed behind me, the mask shattered.
The cup slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor as I staggered forward, gripping the edge of the table for support. My stomach convulsed violently. I barely reached the basin before I was violently sick, my body rejecting the tea in wave after wave.
My hands shook as I clutched the edges of the basin, breath ragged.
Then the real pain returned.
My eyes.
It burned—worse than before. Like liquid fire had been poured straight into them. I gasped, pressing my palms hard against my eyes as if I could hold them in place.
“No… no, not again—”
The pressure built violently, forcing a broken sound from my throat. I stumbled backward and dropped to my knees, trembling.
Slowly, the agony ebbed. Not gone—never truly gone—but quiet once more.
I stayed on the floor for a long moment, chest heaving, hands slowly lowering from my face.
Then a soft, unstable laugh escaped me. Dangerous. Cold.
So that was what she wanted.
At first, I had only wanted to play with her. A little play with fate, since after all our fate was entwined.
But now…
My expression darkened, something far colder settling deep in my gaze.
How dare she.
My fingers curled against the floor.
She thought she could test me? Push me? Play her own little games?
A quiet, humorless smile curved my lips.
Fine.
If she wanted to play…
I would stop being gentle.
My hand rose slowly to my face, fingertips brushing just beneath my eye.
“If these won’t obey me…” I whispered,
“…then I’ll replace them.”
My gaze grew still. Focused. Terrifyingly calm.
“Yours would suit me better, my Luna…”
A pause.
“…or perhaps…”
My smile widened, sharp and cruel.
“One of your children’s.”