The carriage thundered through the darkened roads of fangreth .The sharp air bit into the silence as the horses raced ahead. Luna pulled her oversized black coat tighter around her, her golden eyes reflecting the rising pale blue moon. Wind slipped through the half-open window, but she didn't flinch. She was too deep in thought.
Luna's POV___
Why am I running?
Is he really that dangerous?
Yes. Of course he is. The Devil King — Azrael. The one who caged me, who ruled over shadows. Who hurt Sole…
But still… why do I feel this way?
Why does my heart twist when I think of him? Why do I want to escape and yet—stay?
I shut my eyes tightly.
"Luna, stop. He's your enemy. A monster."
But he watched you dance…
He let you go… didn't he?
I took a deep breath. No. No more thoughts. I have to focus.
Noctarion's voice broke through the quiet.
"We'll head to Telephte Mountain. From there, we can teleport straight to Molgarin."
Mirzand, still leaned lazily in his saddle, smirked and nodded.
"Smart move. I was getting bored of this forest anyway."
Everyone else seemed tense, but Mirzand, as always, wore calm like a second skin.
I leaned forward and looked at Myra, seated beside Floe and Crysie.
"What's Telephte Mountain?" I asked.
Myra blinked, then smiled softly, clearly excited to explain.
"In Duskvaria ,there are seven Teleport Mountains—one in each of the seven kingdoms."
"Including Drakorith," Floe added, her eyes flickering.
"That's the capital of the Devil King," Crysie whispered nervously.
Myra continued.
"These mountains are connected. Royals and nobles can use them to teleport between countries. It's the fastest way, but very restricted."
Before she could say more, the carriage slowed. I peeked outside.
We had arrived.
The massive mountain loomed ahead, its peak hidden behind clouds. A glowing blue crystal spiraled from its center like a beacon. The air buzzed with ancient magic.
Everyone stepped out. My boots hit the earth softly. Sira, landing gently from her fairy form, looked up at the peak.
"Won't the king's guards follow us here?" she asked, worried.
Lolan chuckled lightly, brushing dust off his sleeves.
"Relax, Sira. The Shadow Masters—us—already claimed this mountain."
I looked at him, surprised. "Claimed?"
"We camp here often," he explained.
"After hunting beasts from the Death Forest, we stop here before heading to the palace. That means, during our stay, even the king can't step in without permission."
Crysie blinked.
"Even the Devil King?"
"Yup," Lolan grinned.
"He'd have to send formal notice. And by the time that happens—you'll be home safe."
Lira hovered near me, arms crossed, still in her small form. She muttered under her breath.
"Doesn't matter how many rules protect this mountain. That man finds a way into everything…"
"You mean Azrael?" Mirzand teased.
"Tsk tsk, Lady Lira. Don't go cursing our king again."
Lira narrowed her eyes.
"He's not my king. And he never will be."
Floe giggled, whispering to Myra, who elbowed her back.
"Don't tease Lira when she's mad… she'll hex your hair into grass."
We all laughed softly, the tension breaking for a moment.
But I stayed quiet.
No jokes. No laughter. My mind still clung to one name.
Azrael.
His voice still echoed like a ghost.
"You're running again, little fairy…"
The palace ____
The room was dark. Cold. Silent.
Only the sound of dripping blood could be heard.
Black walls surrounded the room like a giant cage. The windows were tall and covered with heavy curtains, blocking any light. Strange red torches burned on the walls, making the shadows move like ghosts. The air was thick—heavy, like it didn't want to be breathed.
In the middle of the room sat Azrael, the Devil King.
He was sitting lazily on his dark throne. His legs were crossed, and he wore simple sandals. But nothing about him felt soft. His glowing golden eyes stared ahead without blinking. Cold. Dangerous. Quiet.
Right in front of him, a man was chained to the floor.
His long black hair hung over his face. His body was thin and full of dark tattoos. His skin was pale, and blood ran down his arms and chest. His hands were tied behind him, his legs chained tight. The blood was fresh, still dripping onto the black stone.
Azrael didn't move. He just sat there, watching him like a hunter watches its prey.
The door creaked open.
Zeph entered—Azrael's loyal guard. His face was calm, but his steps were quick.
He walked forward and knelt in front of the throne.
"**My king... Luna has been
Founded from a hotel in fangreth ".
Azrael leaned forward, his black eyes shining like dark crystals.
"But our guards failed to catch her... From the message we received, she had some men helping her. They fought and beat up our soldiers," Zeph reported.
Azrael took a slow sip of his red wine, then repeated in a deep, husky voice,
"Men for help?"
"We don't know who they are," Zeph answered.
Azrael let out a low hum, thinking. His eyes narrowed.
"Search all over Duskvaria," he ordered. "Focus mainly on the coastal regions—especially Fangreth, Umbrazar, and Molgarin. I want her."
Zeph bowed deeply. "Yes, my king."
Without another word, he turned and left the room.
Telephte Mountain____
They finally reached the top of the mountain. In front of them stood a massive ancient tree, glowing with violet crystals embedded deep in its trunk. Without wasting a second, they stepped forward.
"Take a crystal from the tree and hold it. The next second, we'll reach Molgarin," Lolan explained.
The fairies each took a crystal and picked one for Luna as well. Floe handed one to Mirzand. He took it, and a faint smile touched his face—it was ten times smaller than the crystals he usually used.
"We're not going," Noctarion suddenly said.
Everyone turned to him in surprise.
"Luna, Meli, and the fairies should go. But if we, the Shadow Masters, leave too… it will only bring more trouble," Noctarion said firmly.
Mirzand tossed the crystal aside with a short nod. "Got a point."
Floe stared at the fallen crystal, sadness flickering in her eyes.
Luna stepped forward. "I understand. Thank you... all of you, for everything. I hope we meet again."
There was no time for a proper goodbye. But as the light from the crystals began to shine, Luna knew—she had left a mark on the hearts of the Shadow Masters.
And just like that, Luna and her companions continued their journey... once again on their own.
***************************
A gust of dry, burning wind brushed against Luna's cheeks.
She groaned softly, eyes blinking open under the pale light of the white moon above. The sky stretched wide and empty, dotted with quiet stars. As she sat up slowly, the rough stone beneath her hands reminded her she wasn't in Fangreth anymore.
She looked around. No trees. No sounds. Just a cracked mountain surface, cold rocks, and endless sand stretching into the horizon.
"You're awake, Luna," came a gentle voice.
It was Meli, her loyal maid, crouched beside her with a small smile on her tired face. Around them stood Luna's fairy companions—Lira, Sira, Vina, Fluo, Myra, Sole, and Crysie—their wings dulled from dust, but their spirits holding strong.
Everyone else was gone.
Noctarion, Lolan, Mirzand the Shadowmasters and their people had stayed behind in Fangreth.
This was their path now.
Meli helped Luna to her feet. "We're in Molgarin now—at the edge of the desert, not far from the border. There's no city here, no people… just silence. But once we cross the desert and pass the lava lake, we'll reach the Molgarin Sea. Your brothers are waiting there—with the royal boat."
At the sound of home, Luna's eyes widened slightly. Her heart beat faster—not from excitement, but from something heavier.
They didn't waste time. Carrying only what they had, the group started down the rocky slope. The ground was dry, every step crunching underfoot. The moon above them guided the way as they crossed through the whispering desert winds and the burning earth below.
The next night, just as Meli had said, the ground shifted.
They reached the edge of the lava lake—its glowing red surface pulsing like a living thing. The heat was unbearable, but with magic and teamwork, they crossed it—slowly, carefully, one by one.
And finally, they reached the sea.
At the border of Molgarin, where the land met the water, stood a shining royal boat with golden sails. Soldiers and nobles lined the shore in formal robes. And among them—
Auren, Luna's eldest brother. Tall, stern, and sharp-eyed. He stood with his arms crossed, lips tight. He didn't rush to her. He didn't speak warm words. But when Luna stepped off the rocks and into the soft sands of her homeland, he came forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"You're safe," he said. That was all.
Behind him stood Sol, her fiancé. His eyes lit up the moment he saw her.
"Luna, finally… I've missed you."
But Luna… only stared.
She tried to smile, but something inside her felt strange—quiet and empty. There were no butterflies. No spark. No warmth.
Why don't I feel anything for him anymore? she wondered. We were in love… weren't we?
Sol stepped closer, excited, ready to talk—but Luna looked away. She didn't understand it herself.
And in the crowd, caelith watched silently, his eyes unreadable.
But there was no time for more.
Their journey was not over. Luna had returned to her people. But peace was still far away.
And so, under the light of the white moon and the crashing waves behind them, Luna and her people began their journey again.
Toward the truth.
Toward war.
Toward destiny.