"The second moon was never meant to rise. But it did. And so did I."
The world was supposed to be quiet tonight. Avera had buried herself in the edge-woods, where the air stank of rot and abandoned prayers, and even the shadows didn't dare whisper. But then the moon cracked.
Not the familiar one that ruled the tides — the other one. The cursed one. The Second Moon. It shimmered above the treetops now, glowing violet like a bruise on the sky. It hadn't been seen for 300 years.
And Avera knew exactly what it meant.
Her fingers trembled as she touched her chest — her heart thudded like it remembered pain that hadn't happened yet. The cold wind sliced through her, but it wasn't the cold she feared.
It was the voices.
Fifteen of them.
Fifteen lives. Fifteen deaths.
They came screaming through her soul all at once — a waterfall of memory and agony.
"Don't trust him.""Kill the priestess first.""Your mother never forgave you.""Betrayal comes in the shape of love.""Burn it all."
She dropped to her knees, blood leaking from her nose, ears, eyes — but she didn't cry.
She laughed.
Because this time, the world made a mistake. It brought her back again. And not just with memory… but with power.
Avera stood, now fully awake in her final incarnation. Her hair glowed faint silver under the moonlight, and one eye burned bright blue — the mark of the Reborn.
At her feet, the forest bent. Roots twisted away. The trees whispered her name — all her names.
Elari.Syphra.Vira the Oathbreaker.The Moon Widow.Avera.
"Fifteen worlds," she whispered. "And still… none of them learned."
She reached down into the soil, and with one pull, summoned the broken crown — the artifact they had buried with her body in the 12th world.
She put it on.
Cracks spread through the sky. The stars seemed to shiver.
This world thought it would tame her.It forgot she had already burned fourteen others.