This is the third part of the same story! If you haven't read it yet, you can find Part 2 here. Enjoy...
The stone floor is hard beneath Aaron’s knees, and he resists the urge to move to a more comfortable position. He keeps his eyes lowered, as instructed, examining the new tattoo on his chest with curiosity. Aaron’s magic is an ugly thing. He’d always thought that. But this tattoo… The idea that his magic could have brought him something lovely… It’s a new concept. He thinks it represents something that he didn’t realize he was missing.
Aaron glances at Lucian, who’s kneeling beside him, eyes closed and his breathing calm. His tattoos are a muted silver now, a stark contrast to blaze of light they had been just an hour earlier. It was shocking to see Lucian of all people lose control of his own magic. But seeing him wrestle it back within a matter of minutes was impressive. Aaron would have to ask him how he did it sometime. Maybe he could learn a new technique to keep his own magic under wraps. If he could wield his battle focus at will, without having to worry about it overtaking him… But Aaron shies away from the thought.
I can’t use it. It’s too dangerous.
Aaron blinks.
But I’m a Blade now. I’m meant to be dangerous.
Well… Very nearly a Blade.
Aaron sighs. “How long do you think they’re going to make us wait?” he mutters quietly.
Lucian cracks his eyes open, but doesn’t move beyond a quick glare.
Aaron directs his eyes back to the floor, “Sorry…”
“He talks even more than I did.”
“Vaughn.”
“What? It’s not my ceremony.”
Aaron resists the urge to turn and look at Vaughn and Iris, who seem to have just arrived behind them. Now all four of them are waiting outside the door of the inner sanctuary. It’s practically a party.
Does it really take so long to get Luna’s attention in her own temple? Aaron wonders.
If the Priestess could read his thoughts, she’d call him blasphemous for that. As far as Aaron knows though, she can’t. But then something else occurs to him:
Can Luna read thoughts? Gods, I hope not…
He’s the last person who should be allowed in the presence of a goddess.
Perhaps she can read his thoughts, because it’s at that moment where the door before them opens. All four assassins avert their eyes on instinct, and the Priestess’ voice addresses them, harsh and unforgiving.
“Lucian and Aaron. Enter.”
Vaughn and Iris watch the pair rise from their knees and step into the chamber. Aaron gets a small glimpse of their faces as he glances back, and sees a somber pride in them both. Vaughn gives him a quick wink before the door closes, separating the new Blades from the old. A divide both symbolic and literal.
“Kneel,” The Priestess commands.
Eyes still lowered, Aaron does as he’s instructed and Lucian does the same. The somberness of the whole scenario doesn’t sit right with Aaron, and a part of him is tempted to open his big mouth and crack a joke to alleviate the feeling, but then a chill crosses his skin. His mind falls as silent as the rest of the room, as though someone just threw a blanket over everything. It’s like he’s cocooned in a cold, yet comforting embrace. Alone, though the room has two other people in it.
Then, there are footsteps. Smooth and soft. That’s not the Priestess.
Aaron’s eyes drift up for a moment, and he sees a quick flurry of light purple fabric and skin as pale and radiant as the moon. He quickly looks down again, eyes wide.
Lady Luna…
Luna pauses in front of them both, silent, like she’s studying them. Then he hears two blades drawn from their sheathes.
“You’ve done well, little Blades.” Her voice is soft and low, almost musical in nature. A light accent tinges it, reminiscent of a Sun Level accent, yet somehow different.
“I look forward to seeing where your… Unusual methods take you,” she adds, a faint ripple of humor running through her words. “Perhaps in the future, you will come to realize you are stronger together than apart.”
Aaron can sense Lucian stiffen beside him.
What does she mean by that? Didn’t we work together? Aaron wonders.
He doesn’t have time to ponder on it as Luna rests one short, curved blade on Aaron’s shoulder, and the other on Lucian’s.
“Lucian Summers and Aaron Wilson, do you swear to answer to your sacred duty whenever I call upon you?”
“Yes.” It echoes from both Lucian and Aaron simultaneously.
“Do you swear to cleanse and protect the Moon Level from those who would seek to defile it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you offer up your heart, soul, and mind in service to me in order to achieve this goal, even at the risk of yourself?”
“Yes,” Aaron says. But Lucian’s affirmation is a heartbeat late.
“Then I recognize you as my Blades. Both weapon and shield, you will act as my instruments of judgment and mercy; my voice and my will. Puritatem per lunae lumen.”
“Puritatem per lunae lumen.” They recite the motto back to her, one that’s been etched into their minds since childhood, now finally come to fruition:
Purification through the light of the moon.
Luna lifts the blades from their shoulders, and there’s a whisper in the air, like a soft breath releasing. The blanket of calm over the room dissipates, and Aaron feels a surge of anxiety fill him again.
“Rise, Luna’s Blades.” It’s the Priestess’ voice this time.
Lucian and Aaron stand and face the Priestess. Luna’s nowhere in sight now, as though the goddess simply vanished. The Priestess looks at them levelly, then gives them a nod.
“You’re to notify Vaughn and Iris of their release from service. Welcome to the darker side of the crescent, gentlemen.”
Aaron lies curled up in his bed, but sleep evades him, chased away by the thousands of thoughts running through his head. This is the worst possible time to have this problem, considering he hasn’t slept in two days.
What if the tattoo increased my magic more than I thought it would?
What if being a Blade only adds to the problem? Would I be able to stop my magic if someone innocent got in the way?
I’ll be a horrible Blade. I’ll end up hurting everyone except the people who deserve it… This was a mistake.
He rolls over restlessly, and eventually kicks off the blanket with a frown.
And what did Luna mean when she said we didn’t work together? Did I get something wrong? I was the one who found our target, but I knew something was off about it… Oh gods.
Aaron freezes, all desire to sleep now completely gone. He stares at the ceiling with wide eyes, every muscle in his body strung tight, like a trap ready to spring.
Did I get the wrong man? he wonders in horror.
“Aaron. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Lucian says it quietly, as though he’s worried he’ll wake him up if he’s asleep after all. Aaron glances over at him, and sees him sitting on the edge of his bed on the other side of the room, poised as though he was just putting on his shoes. Aaron sits up straight and faces Lucian.
“Where are you going?” he asks in return.
In the gloomy light of their darkened room, it’s difficult to see Lucian’s face clearly, but Aaron thinks he sees him frown. Lucian leans over and lights the lamp near his bed, bathing their room in soft, warm light. Aaron blinks, his eyes adjusting to the sudden change.
“Nowhere. I just couldn’t sleep. But I’m used to that, and you’re not,” Lucian says, glancing over at Aaron. “Care to explain?”
“Explain what?”
Lucian kicks off his shoes again and lowers himself to the floor, resting his back against his bed.
“Why you’re not sleeping, dumbass.”
He only sits like that if he thinks they’re about to have a long conversation. Aaron sighs and starts to dig through the drawer next to his bed and pulls out a loose throwing knife. It’s going to be one of those evenings. Aaron turns the knife over in his hand, looking at the way the light glints off its honed edges.
“We’re Blades now,” Aaron says slowly.
Lucian says nothing, waiting for more of an explanation. Aaron flicks the knife at the target at the foot of his bed, and his eyes flash briefly. The knife slams into the center of the target with a thunk. Aaron grabs another knife.
“It’s just… A lot to think about,” he concludes.
Lucian waits a moment longer, and Aaron throws the second knife. It hits the target right next to the first knife, within a centimeter of each other. When he realizes Aaron isn’t going to say anything more, Lucian leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.
“Like what?” he prompts.
Aaron scowls at Lucian.
“What do you mean ‘like what?’ Like you’re not thinking of anything?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Aaron stares at the knives in the target, then scoffs. Of course Lucian’s thinking about things. All Lucian ever does is think about things…
Aaron grabs another knife and throws it again. His eyes flash. Three in a row. He reaches into his drawer again for another one, but finds it empty. Aaron frowns.
“You’re thinking about our target,” Lucian says.
Aaron looks at Lucian. It’s almost creepy how he does that. It’s like Lucian can read his thoughts just by looking at him, distilling the torrent that is Aaron’s mind into a single, simple sentence. Aaron stands up and goes to collect his knives from the target. Now that Lucian’s said it out loud, the rest of Aaron’s thoughts fall into neat little rows that start to make more sense, as tidy as the marks his throwing knives had made. Aaron presses his forehead against the target and stares at the knives.
“Do you think we killed the right man?” Aaron says softly.
“Of course we did,” Lucian replies. There’s no hesitation at all.
“Then what did Luna mean when she said we didn’t work together? Did I mess up? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, Aaron.”
“But something’s off. The foreman… It didn’t feel right.”
Lucian is quiet as Aaron carefully removes his knives from the target. Then Aaron sits on his bed again, carefully arranging the knives next to him.
“Did you think killing someone was going to ‘feel right?’”
Aaron freezes at Lucian’s words. He stares at his hands, remembering what it felt like to see them covered in blood that wasn’t his own. To feel nothing, and then suddenly, everything. The first time he realized what his magic was, what it was supposed to be. What he couldn’t allow it to be. That was the day he fled to the Moon Level. Aaron stares at the ceiling and heaves a breath. His voice is tight.
“I thought it would feel justified,” he says.
“It was.”
“But it doesn’t feel like that, Lucian!”
“Aaron. Listen to me.”
Aaron looks at Lucian, shocked by the commanding tone in his voice. Lucian holds his stare for a moment.
“You did nothing wrong,” Lucian says.
“But-”
“Quiet. You didn’t kill anyone.”
“That’s not tr-”
“I pulled the trigger. Not you.”
Aaron stares at his brother, dumb-struck. Lucian lowers his gaze and pulls his legs in closer to himself, so he’s sitting cross-legged. His voice is softer now, more contemplative.
“It will never be you, Aaron. Understand?”
“What… What do you mean? We’re assassins now, it’s our job to kill people.”
“You’re not an assassin. You’re Luna’s Blade. Weapon and shield, judgment and mercy. There are two of us, right?”
“... Right…?”
“So you be the shield. You are Luna's mercy.”
Aaron slowly lowers himself to the floor so he’s sitting across from Lucian, now on level ground. He doesn’t know what to say. What Lucian suggests goes completely against what he had been taught his entire life. Aaron is a child of Cassis, Goddess of Combat. Down to his blood and sinew, he’s a weapon, meant to be honed and utilized for destruction. He’s not supposed to protect. But in spite of himself, Aaron feels a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can become something more than his blood.
But then a thought occurs to him: if Luna’s Blades are meant to be both a weapon and a shield, and Aaron is the shield… Aaron lowers his voice.
“But that would make you…”
Lucian doesn’t look up.
“I know.”
“That’s… Not what we’re supposed to do, Lucian. That’s not what Vaughn and Iris trained us for.”
Lucian looks up then, and his eyes are cold.
“We make our own decisions, Aaron. This is mine. I’ll take the shot, I’ll wield the knife, whatever Luna requires. You just give me a path. You’ll never have to get blood on your hands again.”
Aaron blinks.
“But… Why?”
Lucian leans back against his bed and stares at the ceiling.
“Because you’re a good person, Aaron, whatever anyone else says. And I don’t want you to lose yourself.”
“But what about you?”
Lucian shrugs and gives a half smile.
“I’m not a good person. And I can’t lose what wasn’t mine to begin with.”
“I don’t understand.”
Lucian sighs.
“You don’t have to,” he says. “Just trust me.”
That’s the second time he’s said that to Aaron. But this time, he seems so sincere. This is clearly something he’s been thinking about since long before this conversation. Perhaps this was his plan all along: for them both to become Blades, but that Aaron would keep his hands clean. Aaron heaves a breath. It still doesn’t make sense to him, but Lucian’s conviction is undeniable. If it’s what he wants…
Aaron releases his breath. “Okay,” he says quietly.
“Good,” Lucian says, giving him a curt nod. “Now go to sleep, it’s been two days.”
Aaron scoffs, “I don’t think I can just go to sleep, Lucian.”
Lucian climbs to his feet and gives him a wry smile. “Lucky for you, you happen to know a demigod who recently acquired the ability to put people to sleep.”
Aaron blinks. Admittedly, he’d already forgotten about that.
“You know, that’s going to be damn convenient,” he says, tossing the knives back into the drawer and climbing into his bed.
Lucian tilts his head, conceding that fact. “For you,” he says.
“It doesn’t work on yourself?”
“No. I’ve been trying for hours.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I hate sleeping.”
“That doesn’t make any sen-”
Then Lucian’s eyes flash purple, and he quickly taps Aaron’s forehead with his finger. Aaron immediately sinks into a deep sleep. His dreams are more pleasant than they’ve been in a long time.
Lucian settles himself comfortably into the little roof alcove on top of the Moon Temple. He and Fin had discovered it years ago when they were kids. It was like their own, private castle turret. Or at least, that’s how they imagined it to be. It was only a few square feet, small even to them at the time, but it was positioned such that they could clearly see the courtyard down below without anyone else knowing they were there. It was perfect for throwing acorns down at Vaughn when he was training. As far as Lucian knows, Vaughn never did figure out that it had been Fin and not an angry squirrel. After Fin left, Lucian had considered showing the alcove to Aaron, but he never did. At that point, Lucian had grown, and he wasn’t confident that they would both fit anyway. It stayed empty for years until Lucian started going up there to find a little peace and quiet between training sessions.
There’s a knock on the roof beside him, and an acorn rolls down and lands next to him. He pins it down with his hand before it bounces away, then rolls it between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.
Why am I thinking about that now, of all things? Lucian wonders.
He’d just thought that coming up here might help him fall asleep. But after using his magic on Aaron, he feels more awake than ever. Maybe it takes away his own ability to sleep. It’s something he’ll have to test as he learns more about his newfound magic. Lucian sighs. It’s just going to be him and his own thoughts until morning, it seems.
Nothing new there.
Like Aaron did, he has plenty to think on.
He drops the acorn, and it rolls off the roof into the courtyard below. But then he sees something stir in the shadows below. Lucian sits up straighter and peers down, looking for movement. A lone figure peels away from the side of the Moon Temple, silhouetted against the pale, blue light. Iris.
For a moment, Lucian freezes, worried that she might have seen him: an instinctive reaction, born from when he was a kid and trying to hide from her after causing some mischief. He scoffs quietly at himself when he realizes it. He has no reason to hide. And even if he did, she can’t see him from this angle anyway. He relaxes again, watching his mentor with passive curiosity. They were supposed to leave in the morning. If she’s awake, shouldn’t she be packing?
Instead, she steps up to one of the training dummies and draws her knives. She moves through her forms quickly and cleanly, efficient as ever. There’s a grace to it though; a fluidity, like a dance whose steps she knows by heart.
Looking at her again, Lucian feels that same spark of indignance he’d felt toward her earlier, but he carefully pushes it away. He doesn’t want his last memories of Iris to be ones of anger. He’s known her for far too many years to allow his impression of her to be tarnished so easily.
Iris continues her forms, and Lucian takes comfort in knowing that, at least for the moment, he’s not alone out here.
“You should be resting, Iris. We have a long journey tomorrow.” Vaughn’s low voice rises up from the courtyard.
Iris pauses and looks at Vaughn as he comes and stands beside her in the grass, examining her handiwork on the training dummy.
“Or are you too busy disemboweling straw men?” he asks.
“It’s important work. Someone has to do it,” she says, a mischievous look in her eye.
Vaughn goes over and picks off some of the straw spilling out of the dummy and looks at it thoughtfully.
“It is,” he says. “But that someone isn’t us anymore.”
Iris looks at the knives in her hands, then slowly sheathes them. She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and revealing the tattoo over her left eye.
“I… Don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Vaughn,” she says quietly.
“You’re supposed to go to bed.”
“I envy your simplicity. Does it come from your magic, do you think?”
Vaughn chuckles.
“I thought wolves were known for a certain level of cunning?” he says.
“Only if they’re not domesticated.”
Vaughn grins at her.
“I’m dying to know who you think has managed to domesticate me, Iris.”
Iris frowns and turns away from him, allowing her hair to fall over her eye again.
“Where would you like me to start? Catherine? Or Hazel? Lady Bramer? Or maybe I should go back a little further… Florence?”
“Hardly domestication, something many of them learned the hard way,” Vaughn flicks away the straw and steps up to Iris. “Besides,” He cuts in front of her and crosses his arms, which stops her in her tracks. “Domestication implies ownership.”
“Did they not have you?”
“No. Not the parts that matter; the things within my power to withhold.”
Iris studies him for a moment, then she shakes her head sadly.
“Look at us, Vaughn. Did you ever imagine that this is what we’d become? You, an animal, enslaved to the desires of others. Me… An empty shell, incapable of peace. Take away our titles, and what do we have left?”
Vaughn carefully reaches for her hand. For a moment, it appears she’s about to pull away, but then she softens and allows him to cradle her hand in his.
“We have what we always had,” he says.
Then he rests his other hand on her waist and draws her closer, assuming the position of a waltz. Iris frowns, but doesn’t resist.
“What are you doing, Vaughn?”
He grins, the light glinting off his sharp canines.
“Taking us on a trip down memory lane. Do you remember the song, or should I hum it for you?”
He takes the first step, and Iris follows his lead.
“If you’re referring to the ball at House Cassis, I’m not sure I want to relive those memories,” she says.
Though it seems she remembers the music, because they continue to move in perfect time with each other, despite the quiet.
“Why not?” Vaughn asks. “It was terribly romantic.”
“It was also terribly messy,” Iris says.
Vaughn spins her, and she comes back to him. He pauses.
“It’s our nature though, isn’t it?” he says.
“Terrible? Or messy?”
Vaughn smiles cryptically, but doesn’t clarify his meaning as he starts leading the dance again.
“If I recall, you weren’t supposed to dance with me that evening,” Iris says.
“No, but my intended partner was absent, freeing me up for the partner of my choice,” Vaughn says. “And I chose the wallflower I thought was the most beautiful.”
“You and I remember that very differently,” Iris comments. “We were dancing because I couldn’t get across the room another way without making a scene, and no one else would dance with me because they were afraid of my Mark. I don’t know why I listened to your suggestion to put my hair u-”
Iris trails off, staring at Vaughn. They slow to a stop, and her eyes glow white.
“Cunning wolf. You knew no one would dance with me if my Mark was uncovered,” she says, her voice suddenly soft.
“Are you expecting me to lie about that?” Vaughn says, moving her hair out of her face so her tattoo is revealed. “Of course I knew.”
The glow in her eyes fades and she blinks.
“That mission went to shit because of that,” Iris says.
“But it worked out in the end. And for once, I actually got to dance with the one person I wanted to,” Vaughn says.
“We almost died, Vaughn.”
“And I wouldn’t change my decision for the world. Though… I do have one regret. I never did get to say what I wanted to say.”
“Explosions are inconvenient like that.”
“Being a Blade is inconvenient like that,” Vaughn corrects. “But now we suddenly find ourselves without a title, without a target, without a mission. What do we have left, you ask? Nothing. It’s just you and I, and the words I’ve wanted to say for a very, very long time.”
Iris’ eyes widen.
“What are you saying, Vaughn?” her voice is hardly a whisper.
Vaughn presses her hand to his lips through a sly smile.
“I think you already know. But if I have to spell it out for you…”
Vaughn lowers himself to one knee in front of Iris, still holding her hand.
“Iris. Your dress made you absolutely radiant, and any other man in that room would have been lucky to hold you in their arms as I did. If you had wanted, I would have lifted you up and carried you out of House Cassis, straight out of Auroris, and never looked back. I would have abandoned my vows to our goddess, because I had found one of my very own, and I wanted nothing more than to have her, and only her, by my side for the rest of my days.”
Iris looks away. Her voice cracks when she speaks.
“I’ve heard your lines before, Vaughn. You expect them to work on me like the rest of them?”
Vaughn glances down.
“Practice, all of it. They were always meant for you. But please, use your magic if you don’t believe me.”
Iris stands very still, avoiding Vaughn’s eyes, doubt, pain, and regret shadowing her face. Then she meets his eyes, and her eyes glow. Vaughn smiles softly.
“I love you, Iris. I have since the first day I set eyes on you.”
He carefully draws something out of his pocket, and tears spill down Iris’ cheeks, catching the light from her eyes like liquid diamonds. Vaughn takes a breath.
“I know that I’m… used. And broken. I am far from worthy. But… If you’d have me…”
He presents an open palm to her, in the center of which lies a ring, gold and perfect. He gives her a small, tentative smile.
“Marry me?”
Iris doesn’t answer through the tears, stunned into silence. The glow in her eyes gradually fades as she stares at the ring. Vaughn shifts uncomfortably and lets out an awkward laugh.
“Should I expect an answer, or should I just go drown myself in the river now and spare myself the disappoint-”
Iris grabs his shirt collar and pulls him up to herself, pressing her lips to his. Vaughn looks surprised for a moment, then sinks into the kiss. They separate after a moment.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, breathless.
Iris smiles.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” she asks.
Vaughn pulls her closer and grins.
“Oh, I think I hear you loud and clear. But feel free to tell me again.”
She does.
On the roof, Lucian climbs out of the alcove and starts to head down into the Moon Temple again. Staying any longer feels like an intrusion. As he climbs down the ladder and rests his feet on the upper halls of the Moon Temple, the thoughts that had been swirling in his head for the last two days gradually slip away, suddenly unimportant. What’s left is a strange sense of peace and purpose, a certainty that wraps itself warmly around his heart. He’ll give Vaughn and Iris his farewells and congratulations in the morning. Until then, his thoughts wander to his own future, and those he has the pleasure to share it with for however long that may be.
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