From His Slave to Luna

Chapter 38:

The walls of Celine’s room felt closer than they had the night before, as if the air itself had thickened overnight. Light filtered in through the curtains, soft and dull, but even that felt too much. The dress she wore was wrinkled from sleep she hadn’t found, its fabric twisted around her legs, the bodice still clinging like it didn’t want to let go. Her hair was tangled, her skin clammy, and she hadn’t moved from the bed since the moment she collapsed onto it.

There were no wounds, no bruises, nothing to explain the aching heaviness in her limbs. She wasn’t tired from fighting. Just from being.

Her father’s voice drifted through her mind again, steady and final.

She does not—and will never—belong to us again.

Lilith’s smile followed close behind it.

Celine pulled the blankets tighter around her, curling on her side until her knees touched her chest. The silence of the room stretched out, thick and unmoving.

Then came the knock.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even flinch.

A pause followed, long enough to hope whoever it was would go away. But the door creaked open anyway.

Soft footsteps crossed the floor, careful but unhesitating. The scent of warm bread hit first, then something rich and herbal from the bowl set down on the nightstand.

“I brought you food,” Lucy said, her voice quiet but steady.

Celine kept her back turned, eyes fixed on the wall. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, tightening, loosening, tightening again.

“Everyone’s been asking about you,” Lucy continued, not pressing, just letting the words hang in the air. “They’re worried.”

There was no answer.

Lucy didn’t sigh right away. She waited a few more seconds before her breath left her in a sharp exhale. Fabric rustled as she crossed the room again, this time snatching the cloak from the chair near the door.

“You want to lay here and rot, fine. Do it,” she said, the softness gone from her voice now. “But if you won’t fight for yourself, then at least think about the people who still believe in you.”

Celine’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn. Lucy didn’t wait for a reply. The door shut behind her with a soft click.

Stillness settled again, slow and heavy. The smell of food lingered, untouched.

Celine rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling too fast. Her throat burned, but no sound came out. She turned her face into the pillow, pressing hard.

Lyra?

The response came after a long, quiet beat. Not rushed. Not impatient.

I’m here.

Why didn’t you help me?

Another pause, heavier this time. Then:

I tried.

Celine closed her eyes, her jaw clenched.

Not hard enough.

Lyra’s sigh was barely more than a whisper in her mind. There was no edge to it. No irritation. Only weariness.

I can’t do this for you, Celine.

Her fingers curled tighter into the sheets.

Then what am I supposed to do? I need you. I need us to—

It doesn’t work like that, Lyra said, and her voice was quieter now, almost gentle. You’re trying to control something that doesn’t respond to force. You’ve spent your whole life convinced you weren’t enough. And every time you try to shift, you bring that belief with you. It’s not them you’re fighting. It’s you.

Celine’s throat closed around the next breath. She pulled the blanket up to her chest, gripping it like it might anchor her.

Then how do I fix it?

There was a long silence. Then Lyra answered.

Find someone who doesn’t have to think about it. Learn from them.

The words settled slowly.

She sat up, the blankets falling from her shoulders. Her eyes drifted to the door, then to the untouched food. The ache in her chest hadn’t faded, but something else pushed through it.

A name came to mind without effort.

Leon.

The thought sent a ripple through her—not fear, not exactly, but something sharp. Something that pressed beneath her ribs.

She didn’t know if he would even agree to help her. Maybe he had seen enough. Maybe he had already decided she wasn’t worth the effort.

That thought hurt more than she expected.

She pulled her knees up again, wrapping her arms around them. The silence returned, and with it came everything she had tried to hold back.

She covered her face with her hands.

And for the first time in years, she let the tears come.