Chapter 118 118

Chapter 118 118
SELENE’S POV

The next day feels wrong. It is slower and heavier and everything feels off. Like something has shifted out of place and the world hasn’t caught up to it yet. I’m back at the seer’s hideout before the sun fully rises. I didn’t sleep. There was no point. Every second stretched too thin, every thought circling back to the same thing, Iver.

The door is already open when I arrive, that’s new. I step inside without announcing myself. The air is different from yesterday. Tighter. Uneasy. It presses against my skin in a way that makes my power stir instinctively. The seer stands in the center of the room, rigid. Waiting.

She knew I was coming. “Tell me what I need to do,” I say immediately. No greeting. No wasted breath.

Her expression doesn’t shift. If anything, it hardens. “No.”

The word lands flat that or a second, I just look at her. Not because I didn’t hear her—but because it doesn’t make sense. “You didn’t say that yesterday.”

“I’m saying it now.”

Something cold slides under my ribs. “You told me it could be contested.”

“It can.”

“Then we’re done talking about whether,” I snap, stepping closer. “Start talking about how.”

“I won’t help you.”

This time, the silence that follows is sharp and dangerous. My power stirs, low and restless, curling at the edges of the room. “You’re going to need to explain that.”

She exhales slowly, like she’s been holding it in since I walked through the door. “I thought you would reconsider overnight.”

A humorless smile pulls at my mouth. “You thought wrong.”

“I needed you to,” she says, more firmly now. “Because what you’re trying to do doesn’t just risk you or him.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know,” she snaps, the first crack in her control. “That’s the problem.”
The room stills,I take another step forward. “You’re afraid.”

Her jaw tightens. She doesn’t deny it. “Good,” I continue, quieter now. “You should be. But not for me.”

Her gaze flickers, just for a second. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Then explain it.”

She hesitates. And that hesitation is different from yesterday. This isn’t caution. It’s memory, like she remembers something ugly. “They don’t just take from those who offer,” she says finally, her voice lower now. “They take from those who interfere.”

My eyes narrow slightly. “Interfere.”

“Guide. Advice. Help,” she clarifies. “People like me.”

A faint, distant irritation builds under my skin. “You think I’m asking you to fight her.”

“I think you already are.”

The words settle, heavy. “And anyone standing too close to you when you do…” She trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish.

My patience thins. “Say it.”

Her gaze locks onto mine. “They die.”

The room is very quiet. I don’t move. Don’t react. But something in my chest shifts, sharp and brief, before it’s gone again. The seer doesn’t move right away. It’s like she’s deciding how much truth will cost her this time. Then she exhales, slow and resigned.

“You already know how the last one died,” she says.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to because I do and I feel horrible everyday for not being able to help.
It wasn’t a story I was told properly. It was something I pieced together over time, whispers, gaps in her training notes, the way certain names stopped being spoken in this place. But I remember the key details clearly. The former seer didn’t die in hiding. She died in a training session with me. I held her in my arms when she did.

“Because of me?” I ask quietly.

The current seer’s eyes flick up to mine. That’s all the confirmation I need. “Yes,” she says. “With the moon goddess watching.”
Something cold settles in my chest, slow and deliberate. I imagine it, just for a second. A training ground like any other. Power being tested. Control being learned. The illusion of safety. And then her. Not arriving like a visitor. But appearing like a correction.

“I thought it was punishment,” I say.

“It was,” the seer replies. “But also instruction.”

My jaw tightens. “Instruction for who.”

“For all of us,” she says simply.

The room feels smaller again. She turns slightly, pacing once, like the memory sits too heavily in one place. “The goddess didn’t just take her life. She made it clear what happens when we lean too far into interference.”

My gaze sharpens. “She killed her during training… to prove a point.”

“Yes.”

Then I ask, quieter now, “I thought it was supposed to be me. Did the seer know?”

The seer hesitates. That hesitation tells me everything. “She did,” she admits. “That’s why she didn’t fight it because it wasn’t about strength.”

My fingers curl slightly at my side. “Then what was it about?” I press.

The seer finally looks directly at me again. “Permission,” she says.

The word sits wrong in the air. Like it doesn’t belong in anything involving the goddess. “She didn’t need to overpower her,” the seer continues. “She only needed to remind her that she was never meant to step beyond what was allowed.”

My power stirs, low and dangerous. “And you’re telling me this now,” I say slowly, “because you think I’m next.”

“I’m telling you this now,” she corrects carefully, “because you think you’re the first to challenge her openly.”

The silence that follows is heavy and uncomfortable. Then she adds, quieter, “You’re not.”

That settles differently. I stare at her, letting the implication settle into place. “How many?” I ask.