Page 91 of The Moon's Daughter

Slowly, thin streams of blood trickled from the Daughter’s nostrils and eyes, painting her face with the brutal toll of her struggle.

Azhar, straining under the orb’s weight, staggered backward as the beam from her hands surged in brilliance.

With an inhuman bellow, the Daughter amplified her assault. The light around her flickered wildly and enveloped her in a bright, brilliant aura.

A loud crack vibrated through the air.

Sharp fragments scattered to the floor. The Daughter’s light had shattered the orb, and it crumbled, along with Azhar’s hold over her.

Azhar stumbled back, his confidence dissolving into fear. “Impossible! That’s impossible!” he screamed, his face a mask of pure terror as she advanced.

She raised her hand, directing a piercing beam of light into his chest. Azhar’s anguished wail tore through the air, a sound vibrating with pure agony as energy engulfed him, his body stiffening under the electric flow. She intensified the beam, her anger and sorrow fueling its power. He began to convulse, light exploding from his eyes and mouth in a horrific spectacle.

Blood seeped from the empty cavities that once held his eyes, while his lips burned away, erased by the Daughter’s all-consuming fury.

As she channeled more power, Azhar’s form blurred, engulfed by the blinding light, until he was no longer visible, his very essence devoured by her might.

The light receded as suddenly as it had exploded, leaving behind nothing but a heap of charred bones on the stone floor.

Breathing heavily, the Daughter stood over the remnants of her foe. As the battle subsided and her light dimmed, the sky began to normalize. The moon, having bestowed its powers upon its Daughter, continued its slow descent toward the horizon.

Her eyes, still aglow with the fierce, white light, dimmed slightly. The Daughter turned her gaze again toward Zarian’s lifeless body. With slow, deliberate steps, she moved toward him. The crackling energy that surrounded her faded into a solemn hush.

Kneeling beside him, she laid a gentle hand on his chest, where his heart lay silent, his skin deathly cold to her touch. From her glowing eyes, a single tear fell, mingling with the blood trailing down her cheeks. With her other hand, she tenderly cupped the deep wound in his neck. A soft light slowly emanated from her palms.

Closing her eyes, she channeled a serene, healing energy, so different from the destructive force she wielded moments before. The energy flowed from her, like glowing tendrils of mist, wrapping Zarian in a cocoon of light. Under the soft radiance, the marks of battle slowly began to mend, the fabric of his being knit back together.

Minutes stretched on, the air filled with the silent prayer of her light.

The shallow gash across his abdomen closed first, followed by the gaping wound in his neck. Her light grew brighter, healing, mending, cleansing, until even the blood coating his skin evaporated into thin air.

The Daughter waited, patient and sure, her hand clenching and unclenching on his chest.

There was only silence. She took a shaky breath, her fingertips digging into his chest.

A second tear rolled down her cheek.

She waited.

And then, miraculously, a heartbeat—faint but undeniable—pulsed under her touch.

One beat, two beats, a stutter and a long pause.

And then, blessedly, a third beat.

Zarian’s eyes snapped open, a sharp, desperate intake of breath fracturing the silence. His body convulsed, arching violently off the ground as life forcefully reclaimed him. Gasping for air, he blinked at the figure above him haloed by light.

“Layna?” His voice was a rasp, disbelief and fear mingling in his gaze.

A gentle smile broke across the Daughter’s face, softening her divine fury into a moment of pure, human joy.

Before she could speak, a distant noise caught her attention. Her head jerked toward the horizon. As she stood, the light from her fingertips crackled loudly once more. Without a backward glance, she dashed across the terrace and leaped into the air.

Instead of plummeting, she soaredup—higher and higher until she was a mere speck in the sky silhouetted against the sun. Aloft, her hair billowed around her, a halo fit for a goddess.

From the skies, she beheld the entirety of Alzahra City and the vast desert stretching beyond. Her enhanced vision, surpassing any mere human’s, allowed her to see miles away, where the Zephyrian horde approached from the southeast.

There was no obstacle between the enemy and her beloved city.