Moonlight poured like liquid silver through the ceremonial chamber carved deep into the forested cliffs of Elowen Hollow. Fae elders gathered in a circle, their ancient robes stitched with threads of star-iron and whispering enchantments. Their gazes, ageless and unyielding, fixed on Kael, who stood bare-chested in the center of the circle, the glow of his sigil-mark pulsing with each breath. His belly, rounded with the life growing inside him, shimmered faintly with magic.
Elias stood just beyond the boundary, the tension in his jaw rivaling the tautness of his fists. He was forbidden from entering. The rite belonged to Kael and Kael alone. The Moonmark Trial would test not only Kael's blood but the unborn child's—its heritage, its right to live within the realm, and the prophecy it might fulfill.
Kael's heart pounded beneath his skin as the high priestess stepped forward, her voice a melodic echo. "Are you prepared to face the Moonmark, Kael of the Lorithen line?"
"I am," Kael said, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of energy churning in his womb.
The priestess raised a crescent blade etched with lunar glyphs. "Then let the truth be carved."
The cold edge kissed Kael's shoulder, slicing a shallow line down to his forearm. His blood shimmered unnaturally—gold with threads of crimson—and floated into the air, gathering in a sphere above the child nestled within.
Pain lanced through Kael's spine, magic crackling around him. The child responded to the trial, and Kael fell to his knees, gasping as waves of heat rolled through his body—heat that surged not just from the rite, but from within.
It was like Elias's touch was awakening again in him. The mark burned hot, and his thighs trembled, slickness betraying a need that clashed against the ceremony. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus. The priestess whispered chants, but Kael's body betrayed him.
Visions slammed into his mind—Elias's hands gripping his hips, lips hot against his neck, teeth scraping over flesh as Kael surrendered in pleasure and power. The night they first bonded under moonlight flooded his senses, his body reacting as though they were still entangled, limbs locked, tongues colliding.
The heat between Kael's thighs grew unbearable. His body ached with desire, even as the child's power surged to meet the rite's demand.
Outside the circle, Elias growled lowly. He could feel it—Kael's arousal, his pain, his magic. Their bond was that strong. And when Kael let out a moan, nearly collapsing as the visions merged with real sensation, Elias had to grip the stone wall beside him to keep from tearing through the barrier.
Inside, Kael's fingers clawed the ground. The magic inside him burst forth in a torrent of light, revealing a spectral image of the child floating above his womb—a child with glowing silver eyes and horns curling faintly from the hairline.
Gasps erupted from the elders. One fell to their knees. Another fainted. "It cannot be…" the high priestess breathed. "The Moonborn heir…
He bears the mark of prophecy."
Kael blinked up, still panting, sweat beading his skin. "What… what does that mean?"
The priestess backed away, almost reverent. "Your child is more than a hybrid. He is a nexus—born of fae royalty and vampiric legacy. His existence can either bind the magical realms or shatter them."
"Then he needs protection," Elias's voice thundered from behind the warding line.
The high priestess turned, her expression unreadable. "Or destruction. We must decide soon."
Kael's hand instinctively covered his womb, a protective growl curling from his throat. "No one touches him."
That night, Elias found Kael in their private quarters, curled on silken sheets, his skin glowing with residual power. Elias climbed onto the bed behind him, arms wrapping tightly around Kael's waist, hands tracing the bump between them.
"I felt you," Kael whispered, eyes half-lidded.
Elias pressed his lips to the nape of Kael's neck. "You called me through the bond. I would've broken the world to reach you."
Kael turned to face him, eyes searching. "They saw his future… it terrifies them."
Elias's lips trailed down Kael's shoulder, slow and possessive. "Then let them tremble."
His fingers slid lower, parting Kael's thighs. Kael arched as Elias pressed into him, slow, claiming, every movement a reminder of their bond. The tension of the rite transformed into moans and gasps, skin against skin, love and lust burning in tandem.
The child inside pulsed with light, calm under the storm of passion and prophecy.
By the time dawn painted the sky, Kael lay nestled against Elias's chest, trembling but safe. The mark on his skin no longer burned—it pulsed with life.
And outside, the fae court argued over whether to crown the child… or kill him.