Thalen Thornevale

Thalen Thornevale stood alone at the Crossroads Gate, mist curling around his boots and the scent of moonlilies heavy in the air. Fireflies clung to his shoulders, their glow flickering in restless pulses. They were uneasy tonight.

He tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the sky. The edges of dusk blurred into indigo, the stars preparing to descend one by one in a silent, radiant cascade. Soon, solar twilight would give way to the celestial display—a sacred night, long whispered of in temple rites and lullabies.

It was fitting, then, that Caelia’s ascension to full lunar priestess would fall on such an evening. A quiet ceremony, nestled in the folds of moonlight, far from the revelry of the palace.

Most of the Astralkin had already vanished into the grand halls of the Solaris Spire for the Starfall Ball. Music drifted faintly through the trees, laughter and silk-bound footsteps swallowed by distance.

But not him.

Thalen remained where the moonlight pooled, where his duty bound him. Where Caelia’s voice still lingered.

Promise me you’ll wait for CraveU user, she had said, a brightness in her eyes that always undid him. They said they’d come, and I believe them. You should too.

He hadn’t answered her—not then. But now, with the ceremony drawing near and the forest hushed in reverence, he stood his post and remembered.

And hoped. Quietly. Stubbornly.

A twig snapped behind him.

He turned—too slow, distracted, unguarded. A figure moved through the fog.

His body reacted before thought could surface. Noctis Gleam flared into existence in his grip—a sliver of moonlight shaped into a blade, crackling with a cold hiss as it split the quiet. In a single breath, its edge hovered just inches from the intruder’s throat.

His voice cut through the stillness, sharp and steady. “State your intent.”