The waiting was worse than the divine magic.
At least when Luna hit me, it was over quickly. This? This was hours of sitting in her temple, feeling the weight of divine judgment pressing down on me, knowing that the moment Yuki's healing was complete, I'd have to face seven hundred years of accumulated questions.
Maybe I could fake another death, I thought. Just collapse dramatically. "Oh no, the resurrection didn't take properly, I'm dying again, so sorry, can't talk right now—"
No. Luna would see through that immediately. She'd always been able to tell when I was lying.
I shifted against the pillar, trying to find a position that didn't make my ribs scream. My shoulder was still sore from being dislocated. My jaw ached. Everything hurt, and I had no one to blame but myself.
Well. Myself and the goddess who'd thrown me across her temple.
"Kaito?"
I opened my eyes to find Ren standing over me, his expression conflicted.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
No, I thought. Absolutely not. Please go away.
"Sure," I said.
Ren sat down beside me, his sword resting across his knees. He was quiet for a long moment, staring at the glowing door where Luna had taken Yuki.
"When I thought you were possessed," he said finally, "when I saw you die and come back... I was terrified. Not of you. For you." He turned to look at me. "I've been trained my whole life to recognize demons, to fight evil. But you're not evil. You're just... old. And tired. And apparently friends with a goddess."
"I wouldn't say friends," I muttered.
"She threw you across her temple because she missed you," Ren said. "That's not how enemies act. That's how..." He trailed off, searching for words. "That's how someone acts when they care too much and don't know how to express it."
I didn't have a response to that.
"My faith tells me that the gods are distant," Ren continued. "That they watch over us but don't interfere directly. That they're beyond mortal concerns." He gestured at the temple around us. "But Luna isn't distant. She's angry and hurt and emotional. She's... human. Despite being divine."
"She was human once," I said quietly. "A long time ago."
"And you knew her then."
"I taught her. For thirty-eight years."
Ren absorbed this. "That's longer than I've been alive."
"Yeah."
"And you just... left? After all that time?"
Because I was afraid, I thought. Because she was too much like me. Because I knew she'd do something reckless and I couldn't watch her destroy herself the way I'd destroyed so many things.
"It's complicated," I said instead.
"It always is with you." Ren stood up, brushing dust from his pants. "For what it's worth, I think she deserves an explanation. A real one. Not the deflections you give us."
He walked away before I could respond.
Great, I thought. Now the swordsman is giving me relationship advice. This day just keeps getting better.
Across the temple, Sora was pacing. She'd been doing that for the past hour, her analytical mind clearly working overtime. Every few minutes, she'd glance at me, then at the sealed door, then back to me.
Finally, she stopped pacing and marched over.
"You're dreading this," she said flatly.
"What gave it away?"
"The fact that you've been sitting in the same spot for three hours, barely moving, with an expression like you're waiting for execution." She crossed her arms. "You keep looking at the exits. You've shifted your weight four times like you're about to stand up and run. And you've been muttering to yourself."
"I have not been muttering."
"You absolutely have. Something about 'should have stayed in bed' and 'this is fine' repeated like a mantra."
Damn. She's observant.
"I'm just tired," I said.
"You're terrified," Sora corrected. "I've seen you face down corrupted magic, walk into dungeons, and resurrect from death with less fear than you're showing right now." She studied me with those sharp eyes. "What did you do to her? To make a goddess that angry?"
"I left," I said simply.
"For seven hundred years."
"Yes."
"Without a word."
"Yes."
Sora shook her head. "You're an idiot."
"I'm aware."
"She's in love with you."
"I know."
"And you still left."
I didn't answer. What could I say? That I'd been a coward? That I'd seen her heading toward the same obsessive path I'd walked and couldn't bear to watch? That I'd cared about her too much to stay?
All of it was true. None of it was an excuse.
"When she calls you in there," Sora said, "don't run. Don't deflect. Don't lie." She turned to leave, then paused. "And for gods' sake, don't make it worse."
Too late for that, I thought.
Hiro had stopped praying. He was sitting on one of the benches, his holy symbol clutched in his hands, staring at nothing.
I recognized that look. I'd seen it before, on the faces of priests whose faith had been tested and found wanting.
"You okay?" I asked.
He looked up, startled. "I... yes. No. I don't know." He set the holy symbol down carefully. "I thought you were a demon. I tried to exorcise you. I was so certain."
"You were doing your job," I said. "Protecting your friends from what you thought was a threat."
"But I was wrong." Hiro's voice was quiet. "I've spent my entire life studying the divine, learning to recognize their presence, their power. And I couldn't tell the difference between a demon and someone who'd been blessed by the gods." He looked at me. "What does that say about my faith?"
"That you're human," I said. "That you make mistakes. That faith isn't about being right all the time—it's about what you do when you're wrong."
"The goddess threw you across her temple," Hiro said. "She was angry. Hurt. She acted like..." He struggled with the words. "Like a woman scorned. Not like the divine, serene figure I've worshipped my entire life."
"She's both," I said. "Divine and human. Powerful and emotional. That's what makes her who she is."
"But the scriptures say—"
"The scriptures were written by people who never met her," I interrupted. "I did. I taught her. I know her." I leaned my head back against the pillar. "Gods aren't perfect, Hiro. They're just people with more power and longer lifespans. They make mistakes. They get angry. They love and hurt and feel everything mortals do, just... bigger."
Hiro was quiet for a long time. Then: "That's terrifying."
"Yeah," I agreed. "It really is."
The door to the inner sanctum opened.
My heart, which had been beating steadily for the past three hours, suddenly decided to try and escape through my ribcage.
This is it, I thought. No more delays. No more avoiding. Time to face the music.
Really, really should have just stayed in bed.
Yuki emerged first. She looked... different. The dark tendrils were gone from her skin. Her eyes were their normal brown again, clear and bright. But there was something new there too—a shadow, a depth that hadn't been there before.
"Yuki!" Ren rushed over, catching her as she stumbled slightly. "Are you okay? Did it work?"
"I'm... better," Yuki said. Her voice was hoarse, exhausted. "The corruption is gone. Mostly. Luna said there's still a trace of it, but it's not dangerous anymore. It's just..." She looked at her hands. "I can feel it. Dark magic. It's part of me now. An affinity I didn't have before."
"But you're not corrupted?" Sora asked.
"No. Luna purified the malicious intent, the part that was trying to transform me. What's left is just... potential. Power I can choose to use or not." Yuki smiled weakly. "She said it's like having a new tool. Dangerous if misused, but not inherently evil."
"That's good," I said, relief flooding through me. "That's really good."
Yuki looked at me, and her eyes were full of gratitude and guilt. "She wants to see you now. She said..." Yuki swallowed. "She said to tell you that running won't work. She's sealed all the exits."
Of course she has.
I stood up slowly, every muscle protesting. My body was still recovering from death and divine assault. This was going to be fun.
"Wish me luck," I said.
"You're going to need it," Sora muttered.
The inner sanctum was smaller than the main temple, but no less impressive. The walls were lined with shelves containing ancient tomes and magical artifacts. Moonlight poured through a skylight, illuminating a circular chamber with a raised platform in the center. Runes covered every surface, pulsing with soft silver light.
And standing in the middle of it all was Luna.
She'd dimmed her divine radiance slightly, making her easier to look at. But she was still breathtaking—silver robes flowing around her, hair moving in an invisible breeze, eyes glowing with barely contained power.
And fury.
And hurt.
"Close the door," she said.
I did.
The moment it clicked shut, I felt the magic activate. Seals appeared on the door, on the windows, on every possible exit. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing down on me with divine weight.
I was trapped.
Wonderful, I thought. Locked in a room with an angry goddess. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening.
"Sit," Luna commanded, gesturing to a cushion on the floor.
I sat. Mostly because my legs were still shaky from the resurrection.
Luna remained standing, looking down at me. The height difference was deliberate—a power play. She wanted me to feel small, vulnerable, at her mercy.
It was working.
"Seven hundred years," she said. Her voice was controlled, but I could hear the emotion underneath. "Seven hundred years, Kaito. Do you have any idea what that's like? Waiting for someone who never comes? Checking for prayers that never arrive? Wondering if you're dead, or if you just don't care?"
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Sorry." She laughed, bitter and sharp. "You're sorry. That's what you said before. That's all you ever say." She began to pace, divine energy crackling around her. "I became a goddess, Kaito. I transcended mortality. I merged with the fundamental forces of magic itself. I have temples in every kingdom, followers by the thousands, power that could reshape reality."
"I know," I said quietly. "I'm proud of you."
She stopped pacing. "You're proud of me."
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" Her voice cracked. "Why didn't you send one prayer, one message, one tiny acknowledgment that you knew? That you cared?"
"Because you didn't need me anymore," I said. "You'd surpassed me. You'd become something greater than I could ever teach you to be. What was I supposed to do? Show up and pretend I had anything left to offer?"
"You were supposed to STAY!" Luna's composure shattered. "You were supposed to be there! You were supposed to—" She stopped, took a breath. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more vulnerable. "You were supposed to care that I existed."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"I did care," I said. "I do care. Lyra—"
"Don't call me that." Her eyes flashed. "You lost the right to call me that when you disappeared."
"Luna, then." I stood up slowly, ignoring the protest from my ribs. "I cared about you. Too much. That's why I left."
"That makes no sense."
"You were too much like me," I said. "Brilliant, obsessive, reckless. You threw yourself into magic with no regard for the consequences. You were heading down the same path I'd walked, and I knew where it led." I met her glowing eyes. "I couldn't watch you destroy yourself the way I'd destroyed so many things."
"So you just left," Luna said. "Without explaining. Without giving me a choice."
"Yes."
"That's not protection, Kaito. That's cowardice."
She was right. I knew she was right.
"I know," I said.
Luna stared at me for a long moment. Then she moved closer, and I could feel the heat of her divine power washing over me.
"I waited for you," she said softly. "Every day. Every night. I watched the mortal world, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. I left puzzles around places I thought you might be, hoping you'd solve them and know I was thinking of you." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I became a goddess partly because I thought it would make you notice me. That you'd be proud. That you'd come back."
My chest tightened. "Lyra—Luna. I—"
"I found you," she continued. "Finally, after seven hundred years, I found you. And now you're here, in my temple, and I can't—" She stopped, and I saw tears forming in her glowing eyes. "I can't lose you again. I won't."
Oh no.
"You want me to stay," I said.
"Yes."
"Here. In your temple."
"Yes." Luna's hands came up, and I felt magic wrapping around me—not hostile, but possessive. Claiming. "Stay with me. Be my advisor, my companion, my—" She stopped, but the unspoken word hung in the air between us.
Her lover.
"I can't," I said.
The temperature in the room dropped.
"Can't?" Luna repeated. "Or won't?"
"Both." I took a breath. "I'm guiding a party of heroes. They're trying to stop a demon king who's conquered the eastern kingdoms. I made a commitment to help them."
"Then break it," Luna said. "You're immortal. You've broken commitments before."
"This is different."
"How?"
"Because they need me," I said. "Because Yuki almost died from dark magic corruption. Because Ren is trying to understand what it means to be a hero. Because Sora is learning that the world is stranger than she thought. Because Hiro's faith is being tested." I met her eyes. "Because I care about them."
"You care about them," Luna said flatly. "But not about me."
"That's not—" I stopped. "It's not the same."
"Isn't it?" Luna's voice was cold now. "You're choosing them over me. Again. Just like you chose to leave seven hundred years ago."
"I'm not choosing them over you," I said. "I'm choosing to finish what I started. To keep my word. To not abandon people who are counting on me." I paused. "The way I abandoned you."
Luna flinched.
"The demon king," I said quietly. "The one they're trying to stop. He was my student too."
The room went silent.
"What?" Luna's voice was barely audible.
"His name was Valdris. I taught him magic about four hundred years ago. Brilliant, ambitious, hungry for power." I looked away. "I left him too. And he became exactly what I was afraid he'd become."
"You have another student," Luna said. Her voice was strange—hurt, jealous, conflicted. "You taught someone else after me."
"I taught several people after you," I admitted. "I kept trying. Kept hoping I could do it right. That I could teach someone without them ending up corrupted or obsessed or—" I gestured at her. "—ascending to godhood and hating me for leaving."
"I don't hate you," Luna said softly.
"You should."
"I know." She moved closer, and suddenly we were inches apart. I could feel her divine power pressing against me, warm and overwhelming. "But I don't. I can't. Even after seven hundred years, even after all the pain, I still—" She stopped, and I saw the vulnerability in her eyes. "I still love you."
The words hung in the air between us.
"Luna," I said carefully. "I—"
"Don't." She put a finger to my lips. "Don't say you don't feel the same. Don't say it's complicated. Don't give me excuses." Her eyes searched mine. "Just tell me the truth. Do you care about me?"
"Yes," I said. "I do. I always have."
"Then stay."
"I can't. Not right now."
"When?" Luna's voice cracked. "When will you be able to stay? After you defeat your former student? After you guide these heroes to their destiny? After another seven hundred years?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
Luna pulled back, and I saw the hurt flash across her face. "That's not good enough."
"I know."
"I finally found you," she said. "After centuries of searching, of waiting, of hoping. And you're just going to leave again."
"I have to finish this," I said. "I have to stop Valdris. I have to help the party. I have to—" I stopped. "I have to try to fix at least one of my mistakes."
"And what about me?" Luna asked. "Am I just another mistake you're going to fix later?"
"No," I said firmly. "You're not a mistake. You never were. You're—" I struggled for words. "You're the best thing I ever taught. The brightest student I ever had. The person who proved that maybe I wasn't completely terrible at this."
"Then why won't you stay?"
"Because I would," I said. "If I stayed now, I'd never leave. I'd let myself be happy here, with you, and I'd forget about the party. About Valdris. About all the other responsibilities I've been running from." I met her eyes. "And I can't do that. Not again."
Luna was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're an idiot."
"I know."
"A stubborn, self-sacrificing, emotionally constipated idiot."
"Also accurate."
"And you're going to leave me again."
"Not forever," I said. "Just... for now."
"That's not good enough," Luna repeated. But her voice was softer now, resigned.
"I know," I said. "But it's all I can offer."
Luna turned away, and I could see her shoulders shaking. "I hate you."
"I know."
"I hate that you're right. I hate that you're noble. I hate that you care about those mortals more than you care about yourself." She looked back at me, and there were tears on her cheeks. "I hate that I still love you anyway."
My chest ached. "Luna—"
"Make me a deal," she said suddenly.
"What?"
"A deal. A bargain. Something to prove you're not just going to disappear again." Luna's eyes were fierce now, determined. "Give me something. Anything. Some proof that you'll come back."
I thought about it. What could I offer? What would be meaningful enough to satisfy a goddess but not trap me here forever?
Then it hit me.
"I'll pray to you," I said.
Luna blinked. "What?"
"One prayer. A real one. Not just words, but actual connection. Acknowledgment. Recognition that you exist, that you matter, that I—" I stopped. "That I care."
"One prayer," Luna repeated slowly.
"And you can visit my tavern," I added. "Whenever you want. No warning necessary. Just... show up. Check on me. Make sure I'm not doing anything stupid."
"Your tavern," Luna said. "The one in Aethermoor."
"Yes."
"The one you've been hiding in for the past few decades."
"I haven't been hiding—" I stopped at her look. "Yes. That one."
Luna was quiet, considering. Then: "That's not enough."
"It's what I can give," I said.
"It's not enough," she repeated. "But..." She moved closer again, and I felt her magic wrapping around me. Not possessive this time. Gentle. Almost tender. "It's a start."
"A start," I agreed.
"You'll pray to me," Luna said. "A real prayer. With your actual name, your actual feelings, your actual acknowledgment that I'm important to you."
"Yes."
"And I can visit your tavern. Anytime. Without warning."
"Yes."
"And when you're done with this quest, when you've defeated your former student and guided your heroes to their destiny..." Luna's eyes locked onto mine. "You'll come back here. To me. And we'll have a much longer conversation about what happens next."
It wasn't a question. It was a command.
"Okay," I said.
"Promise me," Luna said. "On your true name. On whatever power you have. Promise me you'll come back."
I hesitated. Promises had weight, especially ones made to gods. Especially ones made with true names.
But looking at Luna—at the hope and fear and love in her eyes—I couldn't refuse.
"I promise," I said. "On my true name, on whatever power I have, I promise I'll come back."
The magic sealed around us, binding the promise. I felt it settle into my bones, into my very essence. A geas, but one I'd accepted willingly.
Luna smiled. It was the first genuine smile I'd seen from her since I'd arrived.
"Good," she said. Then, softer: "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not running. For making a deal. For..." She reached up and touched my face gently. "For caring enough to promise."
Her hand was warm against my cheek. Divine power flowed through the touch, and I felt something shift inside me—not painful, but profound. A connection forming, a thread linking us together.
"The prayer," Luna said. "Now. Before you lose your nerve."
Right. The prayer.
I'd never prayed before. Not really. I'd talked to gods, argued with them, been hit by them. But actual prayer? Genuine worship and acknowledgment?
This was going to be weird.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind, with my magic, with whatever part of me could connect to the divine.
Luna, I thought. Lyra. Goddess of Magic and the Moon. My former student. My—
I stopped. What was she to me? Friend? More than friend? Something I didn't have words for?
My person, I settled on. The girl who asked too many questions and never accepted simple answers. The mage who turned an apple into a frog and cried because it looked sad. The woman who became a goddess and still remembered how to be human.
I felt the connection strengthen, felt Luna's presence in my mind—warm, bright, overwhelming.
I'm sorry I left, I continued. I'm sorry I didn't pray. I'm sorry I made you wait seven hundred years for acknowledgment you should have had from the beginning.
I'm proud of you. I'm amazed by you. I'm terrified of you. And I—
I hesitated on the last part. But the promise was binding, and the prayer demanded truth.
I care about you. More than I should. More than is probably wise. But I do.
Thank you for saving Yuki. Thank you for not killing me when you had every right to. Thank you for giving me another chance.
I'll come back. I promise. Just... give me time to fix this mess first.
The prayer ended, and I opened my eyes.
Luna was crying. Not sad tears—happy ones. Her divine radiance had intensified, and she was glowing so brightly I had to squint.
"That was beautiful," she whispered.
"That was embarrassing," I muttered.
"It was perfect." Luna pulled me into a hug, and I felt divine power wash over me—healing the last of my injuries, soothing the aches, restoring energy I'd lost. "Thank you."
I hugged her back, carefully. She was a goddess now, powerful and divine. But in that moment, she felt like the girl I'd taught—eager, emotional, human.
"You're welcome," I said.
We stood like that for a long moment. Then Luna pulled back, wiping her eyes.
"Go," she said. "Before I change my mind and lock you in here forever."
"You wouldn't."
"I absolutely would." But she was smiling. "Go guide your heroes. Defeat your former student. Save the world or whatever it is you're planning to do." Her expression turned serious. "But remember your promise. When this is done, you come back to me."
"I will," I said.
"And Kaito?" Luna's eyes glowed with divine power. "If you break this promise, if you disappear again, I will find you. And next time, I won't just throw you across a temple. I'll drag you back here myself and lock you in my chambers until you explain every single day of the past seven hundred years."
"Noted," I said.
"Good." Luna waved her hand, and the seals on the door dissolved. "Now get out of my temple before I start crying again. It's very undignified for a goddess."
I moved toward the door, then paused. "Luna?"
"Yes?"
"I really am proud of you. What you've become. What you've achieved. All of it."
Luna's smile was radiant. "I know. You said it in your prayer."
"I wanted to say it out loud too."
"Then I'll treasure both." She made a shooing motion. "Now go. Your heroes are waiting."
I left the inner sanctum and found the party exactly where I'd left them—Ren pacing, Sora watching the door, Hiro praying, Yuki resting on a bench.
They all looked up when I emerged.
"Well?" Sora asked. "Are you still alive?"
"Surprisingly, yes," I said.
"Did she kill you?" Ren asked.
"No."
"Did she forgive you?" Yuki asked hopefully.
"Sort of," I said. "It's complicated."
"It's always complicated with you," Sora muttered.
"We should go," I said. "We've imposed on Luna's hospitality long enough."
"She said we could stay the night if we wanted," Hiro said. "Rest before continuing our journey."
I glanced back at the inner sanctum door. Luna was probably listening. Probably hoping I'd stay.
But I'd made my choice. And I'd made my promise.
"We leave at dawn," I said. "We have a demon king to stop."
Ren nodded. "Then we rest tonight and move out in the morning."
As the party settled in for the night, I found a quiet corner and sat down. My body was healed, my energy restored. Luna's divine magic had taken care of everything.
But I was still exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually.
I made a deal with a goddess, I thought. I promised to come back. I prayed for the first time in over a millennium.
This is either the smartest thing I've ever done, or the dumbest.
Probably both.
I closed my eyes and let myself rest. Tomorrow, we'd continue the journey. Tomorrow, we'd face whatever came next.
But tonight, for the first time in seven hundred years, I'd acknowledged someone I cared about. I'd made a promise I intended to keep.
It felt... good. Terrifying, but good.
Still should have just stayed in bed, I thought as sleep claimed me. But maybe... maybe this wasn't so bad after all.