When the Sun Finds the Moon

The sun had just begun to dip when the Spiral of Seasons dance began.

At the edge of the ceremonial field, torches sparked to life with autumn-colored flame. Lines of glowing ore stretched across the ground, coiling outward from the center like veins of fire and crystal. Fallen leaves danced on the breeze as Earth and Metal Fae shaped the spiral path, turning the stonework lawn into a living circuit of color and texture.

The spiral path wasn’t built with magic but with the hands of the Fall Fae, including our own, Garnexis. Along with the others, and especially close to Orivian, she placed the stones together, tracing the lines of metal-veined ore and setting them in formation along the ceremonial field.

It was beautiful. And I felt oddly hollow.

We hadn’t found anything new in the tunnels. It had been days since we discovered the sealed Emberglyph door, and there were no more clues, no new glyphs. Just silence, and a sense that something important was still locked away.

I should’ve been excited for the Spiral of Seasons. I had the perfect silver wrap, soft slate-blue robes, and even a matching lace ribbon braided into my hair. I’d laughed through most of the pre-ritual preparations with Shara and the others, and part of me meant it.

But the other part?

The other part still remembered the last Fall Equinox.

Last year, during the Twilight Waltz, I’d kissed Halven for the first time.

I could still remember the warmth of his hand on mine, the way his grin dimmed when he looked at me like I was the only person who mattered. I remembered thinking, just for that moment, that we could make it work, despite everything.

Despite who I was supposed to be.

But I was Moon Fae. And he wasn’

And I’d already paid the price for forgetting that.

“Nice night,” Ardorion said, stepping up beside me as the last torch flared to life. “Just enough drama in the air to make it ceremonial.”

Shara looped her arm through mine. “You say that like you don’t love it.”

“I never said that.” He winked. “I’m made for ceremony. And fire.”

Enchantments laid heavy in the air, as if even the shadows were part of the ritual. Everywhere I looked, students moved in seasonal robes, laughter tucked between their quiet awe. Drums started slow and steady, joined by wind flutes and chimes strung between trees like notes hung on breath.

Garnexis returned to us from the stone path, her expression neutral as always. The spiral lay open before us, etched in stone and shadow, traced in flickering veins of light. The ceremonial mound at the center shimmered with quiet energy.

Our quad stepped forward together—me, Ardorion, Shara, and Garnexis. We’d done this before the year prior, but the weight of it felt different this year. Without Halven.

Shara adjusted her shawl and arched a brow at Garnexis after flicking a glance to Orivian. “Is it just me, or were you two a little too close to the ceremonial mound?”

Ardorion grinned. “Pretty sure I saw Orivian hand her a rock. That’s basically a marriage proposal for Metal Fae.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“But not wrong,” Shara added with a smile.

Garnexis raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Her silence was confirmation enough.

The music shifted again. The signal.

We stepped forward together—our Goldspire quad, one from each season—feet moving in time with the path carved in stone and lore. The spiral drew us in, step by step, line by line, pulling us apart and folding us back together in a dance as old as balance itself.

The moment was sacred. But my heart wasn’t in it.

My gaze kept drifting to the center of the field.

The professors were there, in formal ceremonial robes, forming a ring around the base of the convergence tree.

And standing among them was Isa.

She looked exhausted. Her posture was upright, but her magic wavered at the edges, like candlelight struggling in wind. Her gaze swept the dancers without expression, but it didn’t land on anyone. Not really. There was something haunted about her.

I watched her longer than I meant to.

Because if Isa was cracking… then something much worse might be unraveling.

By the time we reached the innermost ring, the air buzzed with gathered magic. The convergence began with a single, held breath, then the ceremonial tree bloomed. Crystals flared from its branches in all colors, all elements, reflecting one another in perfect fractal harmony. The light pulsed outward like a second heartbeat across the field.

I should have watched the display. I didn’t. I looked for Neir, as ridiculous as that seems because he wasn’t a student or a part of the academy. But I scanned the crowd anyway.

Nothing.

Just Isa and the other faculty. Just the tree. Just the crowd.

But later, as the other dancers spun and dipped in the final rounds, I felt it.

A flicker of movement at the edge of my vision.

A wolf. Or a shadow shaped like one.

It vanished the moment I turned my head, but I’d seen it before. Just a few times over the past week, just enough to make me wonder.

I remembered what he’d said in the library. That he was only partially werewolf. That his other half let him shift into human form, but it was taxing. I also remembered the press of his lips to mine both in the library and in every dream since. Not a single night has passed without his arms around me. In my dreams.

There were other dances after the convergence. Other rituals. Seasonal callings. A weaving of movement that blended magic and intention. I moved through all of them.

When the Twilight Waltz began, music softened into meandering strings and wind, and the last official steps gave way to the open celebration dance. I drifted away from the field’s edge, away from the laughter and light.

I found a place in the trees.

Not hiding. Not really. I was mourning the loss of my friend, the loss of a love that had always been doomed.

Then a hush covered the crowd. The world around me slowed. I turned back toward the dancing just as he stepped into view.

And every whisper in the crowd told me I wasn’t the only one who saw him. The whispers rippled. Quiet shock, curious awe, the kind of gasps that happen when someone legendary steps into the light. Neir didn’t flinch at the attention.

His jacket was cut close and fastened with silver clasps, the color of twilight just before dawn, deep blue with the faintest sheen of dusk-gray at the seams. The fabric caught the lantern light when he moved, edged with subtle embroidery that shimmered like starlight, not for ornament, but memory. His hair was loose around his shoulders, darker than shadow, but every strand reflected the firelight like it had been dipped in morning.

And yes, his hair was blue.

The same impossible shade that had sent half the campus into a frenzy the first week of term.

I didn’t say anything as he approached me.

He said his nickname for me like it had never left his mouth. “Little Moon.”

That was it. Just that.

My throat tightened.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said softly. “Didn’t you say it was taxing?”

His eyes, molten gold and steady, held mine. “It’s worth it.”

He stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, like sunlight on stone.

“To hold you again,” he added.

I hated how fast my pulse jumped. Hated how I didn’t step away.

He didn’t reach for me, not yet. He just stood there, letting the silence speak for him.

I looked him over, really looked. “You’re not supposed to be able to do this.”

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

“Then how?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “The other half of me bends rules.”

That earned the full smile. Brief. Gone too soon and replaced with a hunger I felt deep in my soul.

He finally offered his hand, palm up. “Will you dance with me?”

I looked back toward the celebration, toward the students, the music, the lights. But I already knew my answer.

I placed my hand in his.

We didn’t waltz, not really. Just swayed, shifting quietly beneath the trees while the rest of the world spun in a different rhythm.

His hand settled on my hip, and mine rested lightly at his shoulder.

The magic around us shimmered, my cold matching the frost curling along the grass beneath our feet, his sun heat warming the air between us. It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t fighting.

It just was.

The last time we spoke, he said he was the guardian of old magic. Since learning what we have about Halven, I’ve wondered if Neir knew anything. Keeping my voice low, I asked, “Are you here because of Halven?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Is that the other man I see in your dreams?”

My mouth went dry. “He’s… he was my boyfriend.”

Neir’s jaw didn’t clench. He didn’t react. But I felt something shift in the air.

“I thought I’d learn more from you,” I said. “About the magic here. About what’s being guarded.”

“I can’t tell you everything.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve made a vow.”

I looked away. “You can't tell me everything, but can you tell me something?”

“I can,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I will.”

“Why?”

He must have felt my anger not only in my words but in the stiffness of my body because he suddenly dragged me against him, holding me to his chest, his lips near the top of my head.

His warm breath shifted through my hair. “I would protect you.”

We moved in silence for a few breaths. The music drifted from the clearing, slow and soft.

“Are you really the guardian of old magic?” I asked.

“Yes.”

So he would answer some questions. Perhaps I had to make the questions easy to start.

“How old are you?”

He tilted his head back, smiling down at me like he caught on to my game. “How old are you?”

I blinked at him. “I’m twenty.”

“Then I’m twenty,” he said. “Plus twenty-five thousand.”

My eyebrows rose. “You’re joking.”

He didn’t answer.

That’s when I noticed the strain in his magic. It was subtle, a shift in his fingers as they elongated, claws tipping the ends to prick my skin.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered as he struggled against his magic.

His voice was a rumble beneath my hand, but he won the battle, and his hands returned to human form. “I want to.”

Before I could argue further, he drew me gently into the shadows beneath a low-bending tree.

The light above didn’t reach us here.

It was just us. The hush. The hum. The pull.

His hand moved to my back, warm and steady. I barely breathed as he leaned down.

“I love our dreams like this,” he said. “But it’s better here. With you. Awake.”

My hands slid up his chest, and I almost told him no. I almost said we can’t. Again.

But he beat me to it.

“We can,” he whispered, mouth inches from mine. “You just don’t believe it yet.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” I asked, too breathless.

“I don’t.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “But I’ve seen your dreams when you push him away. The one who was your boyfriend.”

My heart ached.

“I’m Moon Fae,” I whispered. “I have a duty.”

“I’m aware.” He ghosted his lips over my cheek, nearing my lips but he restrained himself. “And I am half Moon Fae.”

That stunned me.

I pulled back just enough to look into his face, into the truth waiting there. I didn’t ask for proof.

I just believed him.

And then I stopped thinking and kissed him.