The Nameless Luna – Book Three: For Her, He Falls

Where is Tristan?
He was just with me. He was holding me and saying my name. I remember telling him I love him, and then…
Nothing.
As I sit up on the bed that is not quite my bed in the room that isn’t really a room, there is no sign of him. I’m surrounded by that translucent shimmer and utter silence.
‘Tristan!’ I call out, but only my voice echoes back to me in response. ‘Tristan! Where are you?’
‘He is not here,’ an ethereal voice says, and I whirl around to face its source.
A woman stands by the window, but I cannot see through the glass to what is outside. She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her skin is pearly and iridescent, glowing softly, just like our surroundings. Her hair isn’t just black, it’s darkness itself, and when she moves, I swear I can see stars in between the strands. Entire galaxies swirl in those lovely locks that cascade down well below her waist.
‘Your mate cannot hear you,’ she says. Her voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. She sounds like a symphony of a ringing bell, a wolf howling in the night, and the wind blowing through the trees. That voice is a song as old as time itself.
She wears a billowing white dress, but when I look at it closer, I realize that it’s not fabric blowing in the breeze but rather crashing waves. The gown is made of the sea itself, rippling down her body and foaming around her bare feet.
‘Who are you?’ I ask, trembling as I slide off the bed.
She turns away from the window to look at me in an unhurried and unbothered way. When her gaze lands on me, I realize that she has no pupil or iris. Her eyes are just two pits of light below her elegant brow, not white, but rather a burning silver. They shine like something holy and molten beneath her eyelids.
But I know she can see me. Though her eyes are nothing but light, I can feel them on me as she looks at me, and my skin prickles at her gaze.
‘Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?’ she asks, a hint of amusement dancing in that lovely voice.
She’s right. I knew it the moment I saw her, but I still couldn’t bring myself to believe it.
I swallow hard, struggling to steady myself as I drop to my knees, bowing my head.
‘Selene,’ I whisper. ‘Goddess of the Moon, Queen of the Heavens, and Mother of Wolves.’
I stare up at her through my lashes, but she does not move. The sea swells on her gown, and galaxies ripple and swirl in her hair, but she stands so unnaturally still.
‘Why can’t Tristan hear me?’ I ask, my eyes raised to the woman made of starlight and time.
‘Because you are dead, and he is not,’ she says simply, and though I know my heart is not beating, I can almost feel it shrink in my chest. ‘I thought about taking him too, but I have no claim on his heart. Too many of my children have died in the past few days. I decided to spare him in their honor.’
‘Spare him?’ I repeat, almost to myself. ‘So you are capable of mercy.’
Her expression remains the same, calm and composed, but something flashes across those blank, bright eyes of hers that makes me feel small and cold.
‘I am capable of things you cannot imagine, little girl,’ she replies. Her tone is firm but not angry. She’s merely stating a fact. There is no trace of malice or resentment, as I’m too inconsequential to get worked up about.
Perhaps to her, I am.
‘D-do you… do you know why I’m here?’ I ask.
‘You are here because you should not exist. A curse was placed on your heart in penance for the sins of your parents, and you defied it.’
Oh, but she has seen nothing of my defiance yet.
‘Sin? My parents fell in love.’ I shake my head. ‘The only crime they ever committed was to choose one another instead of a life of hatred or loneliness. Why does that require penance?’
‘Your mother turned her back on her own kind and bore the child of a man who was not her mate. They defiled nature. That is why I cursed you, child. Their sacrilege must end with you.’
Only I am not a sacrilege.
I rise to my feet, and while everything inside me screams to shrink away from the ancient power radiating off the being before me, I stand with my head held high.
‘My parents are mates. She may not bear his mark on her skin, but she wears it on her soul. Marco will protect my mother with everything that he is, and Vanessa makes him a better man. Their differences do not defile the bond; they make them stronger.’
‘This is not how the magic of mates works. It is not the way of the world,’ the Goddess says, her tone soft and chastising, as if explaining something to a child.
If the love in my family is a blasphemous abomination, then I want no part of what is right and holy.
Things need to change.
‘You are the Goddess of the Moon,’ I tell her softly, making no effort to conceal the awe in my voice as I gaze upon her. ‘That means you should know better than most that nothing is forever in this world. Change is written into the very fabric of life, just like a woman’s changing body or the ever-shifting phases of the moon. That is how nature works. You know that, my lady. Your magic gave birth to wolves who are shifters. You created creatures whose very nature is tied to transformation! Surely you, of all people, can see the beauty in a new bond between two species.’
For the first time since she appeared, I see her expression change. Emotion seems unnatural on her somehow, like her face is not meant to look upset any more than a tree is meant to look confused. It’s too human for someone so… other.
‘Who are you to lecture me on the ways of magic and nature?’ the Goddess asks, and her tone strikes terror into every cell of my being. ‘You are a little drop of water in an ocean so vast you cannot even conceive the size of it. You are nothing more than a heartbroken child who thinks she can change the mind of a god.’
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am insignificant.
But Alpha Viktor, the fallen King of Five Armies, is dead because of me. The Night King, ruler of the nightwalkers, was reunited with his family because of me. The Rogue Alpha, King of Outcasts, believes in love again because of me. The fate of three kings and seven kingdoms changed because of one insignificant little person.
The nameless girl who became a Luna.
‘One heartbroken child may not matter to you, my lady, but I think nothing matters more,’ I tell her softly, clinging to the memory of Tristan’s hand in my own to give me strength as I speak up. ‘You never know what that child will become or who their love will touch. You may think I was a drop, but I think I was a seed. I blossomed into a flower of hope, and I learned that anyone and anything unwilling to grow can only ever wither.’
The Goddess cocks her head to the side slowly, looking at me with something that might resemble fascination.
‘Is that meant to be a threat… little flower?’
The sound of Tristan’s nickname for me in that otherworldly voice is haunting enough to turn the blood in my veins into ice. I’m not alive, so why can I feel so cold?
‘I would never,’ I answer breathlessly.
This is all coming out wrong. We were supposed to do this together, my mate and I.
But Selene spared Tristan.
She showed mercy. I realize at that moment that the Goddess did not let him live to separate me from him; she did it because it was kind. I think of how she stared out through the window when I first woke up, as if watching the world from so far away.
I wonder what we must look like to her. So fleeting and fragile and alive. Or at least, I used to be.
The Goddess is powerful beyond imagination, devastatingly beautiful, and ancient as the world itself. And impossibly alone…
I see her then as if looking at her for the first time. A creature full of kindness that so rarely gets to share it. The moon is so lonely in the sky, watching over the world and shining down on it without ever truly being able to touch it. The Goddess possesses such awful and wonderful power at her fingertips, but she has no one to hold her hand.
Even now that my heart is still as stone, it is still full. I’m so far from Tristan and everyone I care about, but their memory is a hand on my shoulder, reminding me that I am loved. I thought I knew what it meant to be alone, but I was wrong.
One must not pity the dead. Pity the gods who never got to truly live.