The moonlight seeped gently through the curtain's edge, spilling pale silver across the floor of the small inn room. Vaelion lay in a half-dream, memories he didn't recognize flickering like candlelight behind his closed eyes—visions of war, of a silver-haired swordsman, of a clock that never stopped ticking.
His breath stilled.
Clink.
The soft metal chime shattered the quiet.
Vaelion's eyes snapped open.
Standing above him was a woman—a vision equal parts celestial and dangerous. She was tall, graceful, and undeniably divine. Long, flowing golden-blonde hair cascaded down her back, reflecting the moonlight like liquid fire. Her skin was smooth and pale, glowing faintly as though kissed by magic itself. Her outfit was an elegant gothic ensemble—black laced corset adorned with gold-threaded patterns, a flowing asymmetrical skirt that flared like flames, and thigh-high boots that clacked gently on the wooden floor. Her crimson eyes glimmered with amusement and calculation, narrowed like a predator toying with her prey.
She was beautiful—terrifyingly so—and her aura was suffocating. The air bent around her like time itself dared not move without her permission.
"Who... are you?" Vaelion asked, his voice low, hand already sliding beneath the pillow toward his daggers.
She smiled, and her voice, when it came, was smooth silk dipped in mischief. "Awake already? I was hoping to get a better look before the swords came out."
"Answer me."
The woman tilted her head. "You don't remember anything, do you? That's... disappointing."
Before he could speak, she flickered.
Gone.
And then—
Bang!
Vaelion rolled just in time as a bullet cratered the wall where his head had been. He lunged forward, twin daggers—Verdict and Sin—flashing into his hands, but the woman reappeared behind him before he could strike.
She whispered against his ear, her breath ice and flame at once.
"Your reaction time has improved. I wonder what else you've forgotten."
Lunaria stirred from her slumber across the room, crimson eyes fluttering open. Her gaze locked instantly onto the intruder.
"Who the hell—?"
"I told you." The woman giggled. "You're both more fun when you're confused."
"Explain. Now." Vaelion said.
She descended slowly, floating down until her boots clicked on the wooden floor. With a twirl of her pistols, she holstered them in a flourish.
"My name is Kurumi," she said, curtsying with theatrical elegance. "The Eternal Flame of Chaos. And the Goddess of Time."
Lunaria's face twisted. "Goddess?"
Kurumi grinned, hands clasped behind her back. "Also, technically—Vaelion's wife. Or do you not remember our vows beneath the Divine Clock Tower?"
Vaelion blinked.
"...I've never been married."
"Sure you haven't." Kurumi stepped forward and grabbed his arm, clinging to it with a smirk. "But I have."
Lunaria stormed over and seized his other arm, glaring.
"Let go of him."
Kurumi turned, inspecting her.
"Oh? You're the Crimson Moon? I was wondering who radiated that much divine pressure."
"Back off."
Kurumi leaned closer to Vaelion, whispering through a purr. "You sure attract trouble, my love."
"I'm about to be the cause of it," Lunaria muttered.
"Stop it," Vaelion said firmly, pulling away from both. "We're going to the capital tomorrow. If you're serious about being a goddess... then prove it to my mother."
Kurumi's eyes gleamed. "A royal audience? How romantic."
To be continued...