The Moon's Chosen
"We greet our lord—our Goddess's chosen one.
Our Goddess's future husband."
Leon's blood turned cold.
His mind went blank.
"…What." His voice shattered; eyes wide. "What did you just say?"
The three women stayed on their knees, heads bowed so low they almost touched the floor, unshaken in their belief.
"I." Leon scanned the creepy ruins, the moonlight creating long shadows, fueling his confusion. "What the hell is going on?
His voice wasn't angry—lost. Dazed. Like someone had been plunked in the middle of somebody else's tale.
Cynthia slowly lifted her head. Her dark eyes locked into his, glinting—not with fear or madness, but reverence, raw and absolute. A quiet power emanated from her, her voice hardly louder than a whisper, and yet crystal clear.
My lord," she told him, "you are the one we have waited for. The one we've searched for across lifetimes. You are the reason we exist… the reason we endured."
