Chapter 31: Twin Moons

The months slipped by in a strange blur of normalcy.

For the first time since I had stepped foot into Dival Academy, the days passed without blood, without monsters, without betrayal hanging over our heads. Classes returned to routine—lectures, practice, the occasional sparring match that left bruises fading faster than my pride. Even Stewart’s relentless drills began to feel almost comforting, as if he was trying to beat the memory of Kael Draven out of me with repetition and sweat.

And yet, for all that peace, I couldn’t shake the weight in my chest. No letter had come saying Elaris had awakened. The longer the silence stretched, the more I dreaded the truth behind it.

The only distraction came with the whispers of the coming festival. The Twin Moon Festival. Students spoke of it with a reverence usually reserved for gods and heroes. A day when the heavens themselves aligned—the two moons crossing paths with the sun, creating an eclipse that bathed the world in silver and gold.

It wasn’t just a celestial show. It was tradition. Celebration. A chance for the academy to descend from its lofty floating isle and anchor above Ikol City, so nobles, merchants, and commonfolk alike could join in the revelry.

I stood near the outer railing of the academy grounds that morning, watching as the great enchantments stirred beneath our feet. The air hummed, mana lines thrumming like the strings of some colossal instrument as the island began its slow descent toward the capital.

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Rias said quietly beside me. Her blind eyes gazed forward, unblinking, her hair stirred by the high wind. Sköll and Geri flanked her protectively, their tails swaying as if they too sensed the shifting air.

I nodded. “Strange… and heavy. Like the whole academy’s heartbeat just changed.”

Below us, clouds parted to reveal the glittering spires of Ikol City in the distance. It had been nearly a year since I last saw it, not since before everything went downhill. From this height it looked like a jewel laid out on the earth, every tower catching the sun’s light.

Rias’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You sound like Father when he used to speak of the festival.”

A pang struck through my chest. “Yeah. He always said it was the only time people of all stations could actually breathe the same air.”

She tilted her head toward me, a soft laugh escaping. “And the only time Mother could drag him away from his work.”

I huffed a quiet laugh of my own. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine the two of them here with us, watching the island drift down toward the capital, waiting for the eclipse.

But the ache came quick, pulling me back. This year, it would be just us. And no one else knew why today mattered so much—not to the world, not to the kingdom, but to us.

Our birthday.

The descent stopped with a deep, resonant shudder that thrummed through the academy’s floating grounds.

For the first time, the academy had come to rest directly above Ikol City, suspended in the heavens like some ancient fortress of the gods.

I leaned against the railing, staring down at the sprawling capital below. From here the palace was a gleaming crown at the city’s heart, the marble towers catching fire in the sun’s light. Roads spiderwebbed outward in careful design, filled with crowds already gathering for the festival. To them, we must have looked like another star descending from the sky.

Then the sky itself bloomed with motion.

Dozens of carriages appeared on the horizon, gleaming wood polished to a mirror sheen, banners streaming from their sides. They did not ride on wheels or horses. Instead, teams of wind mages soared alongside them, cloaked in deep blues and greens, their arms extended as wind swirled beneath the carriages, carrying them aloft. Their synchronized gestures pushed and steadied the carriages through the open air as though they were ships upon invisible seas.

Gasps and cheers erupted from the gathered students as the first wave of carriages drew near, sunlight flashing from gilded trim. Each was accompanied by a small retinue of armored knights, flying beside them with shields raised and weapons at the ready.

“By the gods…” Marza whispered somewhere behind me. “They’re actually flying.”

“They’re nobles,” Seraphine said with a slight smirk. “If there’s a way to arrive that makes the rest of us feel small, they’ll find it.”

The carriages began to circle the academy like birds finding a roost. One after another, they steadied at the outer landing platforms where professors and attendants awaited, offering formal bows as each family descended. Dresses of silk, coats of velvet, jewelry catching the light of both sun and moons—it was as if the night sky had emptied itself of stars and dressed them as people.

But even among such grandeur, one presence dwarfed them all.

The royal crest gleamed on the side of the largest carriage, a sigil of a snarling wolf’s head clutching a dragon’s wing in its fangs. This one was accompanied not by a handful of mages but by entire formations of them, wings of wind carrying the carriage as though it were untouchable. My breath caught as I realized who it must be.

The King himself.

Rias’s hand brushed against mine, a silent acknowledgement. She couldn’t see, but she didn’t need to. She knew.

And beside him, in another great carriage trailing the same crest but edged in black and silver, came our grandfather—the Duke of Dival.

I swallowed hard. My grip on the railing tightened. The last time I’d seen either of them had been years ago, before the mountain, before the Cryall, before everything that had reshaped us into who we were now.

“They’re here,” I muttered. My voice sounded smaller than I intended.

Rias turned her face toward the wind, her expression unreadable. “Then so be it.”

The carriages began to land in full, the platforms filling with colors, voices, and the swirl of noble etiquette. It wasn’t just a festival anymore. It was a court held in the skies, a gathering that blurred the line between divine celebration and mortal display of power.

The school’s shadow cast a wide eclipse over the streets below. From the edge of the academy grounds, I could see lanterns flickering to life in the city like a sea of stars. The festival had begun.

Music carried faintly upward—lutes, drums, and the echo of trumpets—and even at this height, the sound of thousands cheering drifted on the wind. Ikol had always been known for its festivals, but this one… this was different. The Twin Moon Festival came only once a year, when the heavens aligned to honor the twin goddesses. And tonight, the entire sky was their stage.

Banners of silver and violet fluttered from the towers, enchanted flames dancing across their fabric so they shimmered like liquid light. The upperclassmen were in charge of stalls that offered candied fruit that steamed with sweetness, glowing drinks that pulsed faintly with light, and jewelry shaped like crescents to honor the twin moons.

“Look at all this,” Seraphine said at my side, her eyes practically glowing with reflected light. “The festival hasn’t even reached its peak and it already feels like we’re standing in the middle of history.”

Marza twirled with a laugh, clutching a stick of sparkling candied fruit. “I heard they even brought sky-painters this year—mages who launch colored flames into the air and shape them into beasts.”

Geri’s ears perked up, tail wagging. Sköll sat beside me, ears flicking at the music but otherwise unimpressed.

“Not real ones,” Marza said quickly, grinning. “Though I bet nothing they make will look half as terrifying as Sköll when he’s mad.”

Sköll snorted, his icy breath curling into the air as if in agreement.

The crowd of students thickened as the festival unfolded across the academy’s massive platform. Magic illuminated everything—streams of light arcing overhead, runes inscribed on paper birds fluttering like they had minds of their own, and tiny spheres of fire that bobbed in the air like lanterns. The academy staff moved between the students, more relaxed than I had ever seen them, as if even they couldn’t escape the pull of the night.

I felt a tug on my sleeve. Rias.

Her blind eyes tilted upward, pale and distant, but the faintest smile curved her lips. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said softly, glancing at her. “It really is.”

She didn’t need sight to feel the magic in the air. Her mana perception, always sharper than most, must have made the night shimmer even more vividly in her mind.

I shifted my weight, eyes flicking from the glowing moons above to Rias at my side. The words caught in my throat for a moment, but I let them out anyway.

“You know,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips, “today isn’t just the Twin Moon Festival for us. It’s also… our birthday.”

The group fell quiet, surprise flashing across their faces. Even Rias gave a small nod, confirming it in her calm way.

“Our family always celebrated it on this day,” I continued, voice soft. “Guess it made sense—sharing it with the moons.”

Warm murmurs rose around me—congratulations, smiles, even a playful clap on the shoulder from Toren. For a moment, the weight I carried felt lighter, like the festival wasn’t just for the world, but for us too.

Seraphine, as always, slipped into scholar mode, her voice carrying over the music. “The Twin Moon Festival is more than just celebration. It honors the goddesses Selene and Luna, who legend says once held the world in balance. Selene guided the light, Luna the shadow. Together, they circled Terra, protecting us from the void.”

Caelan raised an eyebrow. “And now people celebrate by drinking and launching fireworks.”

“Tradition changes,” Seraphine replied smoothly, ignoring his dry tone. “But the heart of it remains. When the moons align with the sun, it’s said the veil between mortals and the divine thins. Blessings are easier to receive. Children born tonight are touched by fate itself.”

Her eyes slid, deliberately, toward Rias and me.

I shifted uncomfortably.

“Twins are considered especially blessed,” she continued, “since they reflect the goddesses themselves. It’s why this festival has always been a day of renewal and hope. Why rulers look to it for omens. Why nobles gather in Ikol to be seen basking in its light.”

Toren gave a low whistle. “So basically, you two were destined to be special from the start.”

Rias laughed lightly. “Or destined to be a headache for Arthur.”

I rolled my eyes, though my chest tightened. She was right about one thing: this was our day. Our birthday. But it wasn’t something we shouted about. Our family had kept the tradition small—just us, a cake, and laughter around a fire. Those memories felt far away now, buried under years of blood and ash.

Fireworks of mana lit up the sky in dazzling displays. One exploded into the shape of a dragon, scales glinting red before shattering into a thousand sparks. Another formed a wolf—massive, silver, and eerily reminiscent of Sköll, drawing laughs and gasps from the crowd.

Sköll’s ears twitched. He growled low, unimpressed by the imitation.

Rias squeezed my hand, smiling faintly. “Don’t sulk, Sköll. You’ll always be the original.”

Later, when the music and laughter became too much, our group drifted toward the edge of the academy’s platform. From here, the entire world stretched below us: Ikol City gleaming in the darkness, rivers of light winding through its streets, and the faint silhouette of the Wolfhiem Mountains in the distance.

It was breathtaking.

The moons were already beginning their slow alignment with the sun, a silver glow spreading across the horizon. Soon, the eclipse would come, and the festival would reach its climax.

But in that quiet moment, with the others marveling at the view, I couldn’t stop the thought that slipped out.

“I wish Elaris was here to see this.”

The words left me before I could swallow them. My voice was low, almost lost to the wind, but Rias heard. So did Sköll, who leaned against my side with a rare softness.

For a while, no one spoke. The festival roared on around us, music and fire filling the sky, but here at the edge, it was just us—friends, family, and the unspoken weight of someone missing.

And as the moons slid closer to their perfect eclipse, I couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere, somehow, she felt it too.