The Moon's unease

Lunira’s silver light, sharp as a blade, cut through Silas’s shutters, landing squarely on his closed eyes. He groaned, rolling away, only to encounter a familiar, warm weight pinning the blankets. Fluffy, curled in her compact dragon form, rumbled like distant thunder. Her violet-tipped tail gave a single, protesting thump against his leg.

"Off," Silas grumbled, voice thick with sleep. He shoved gently at her scaled flank. "Goat."

Fluffy lifted her head, blinking luminous violet eyes in the dimness. She yawned widely, revealing tiny, needle-sharp teeth and a flicker of miniature lightning deep in her throat. With a disgruntled snort that smelled faintly of ozone and yesterday’s burnt scones, she uncurled, stretched wings that momentarily blotted out the light, then hopped down with surprising lightness. Her claws clicked softly on the worn floorboards as she padded out the door and down the stairs.

Silas dragged himself upright, the familiar ache settling deep in his bones. He pulled on the simple cream tunic and trousers that were his uniform now. Downstairs, the pre-dawn quiet of the café was broken only by the soft crackle of embers in the hearth and the impatient *tap-tap-tap* of Fluffy’s claws near the entrance door. She sat primly, tail neatly curled around her paws, violet eyes fixed unblinkingly on the kitchen doorway. The picture of patience, betrayed only by the faint static charge making the fur along her spine lift slightly.

"Demanding rodent," Silas muttered, but it was routine. He fetched the special tin, the scent of salted meat and lightning filling the small space as he placed a generous chunk of storm-charged jerky in her bowl near the hearth. Fluffy didn’t pounce. She rose with deliberate dignity, walked over, and began to eat with meticulous precision, the only sounds the quiet crunching and the occasional tiny *zap* as a spark leaped from her jaws to the stone.

The peace fractured with the doorbell’s frantic jangle. Stella burst in like a small, golden-haired hurricane, still in rumpled pajamas, her face pinched with worry. Right behind her, looking like he’d wrestled a gravel golem and lost, was Kael. Deep shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and the scar on his cheek stood out starkly against his pallor. His usual diplomatic composure was frayed at the edges, replaced by a raw tension.

"Uncle Si!" Stella launched herself, burying her face against his tunic. Fluffy glanced up, gave a soft, crackling chirp of greeting, then returned pointedly to her jerky.

Silas’s hand automatically settled on Stella’s head, but his gaze locked onto Kael. The worry radiating from the man was a physical thing. "Kael? What's happened? You look like death warmed over."

Kael scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion etched into every line. "Liora," he said, the name heavy. "She’s… she’s locked herself away. Top of the highest observatory tower. Days now. Barely sleeps, won’t eat. The senior Starbinders are with her, running readings constantly." He took a shaky breath. "Silas… it’s the moons. Something’s wrong with the moons."

The words hit Silas like a physical blow. He stopped breathing for a second. The rhythmic crunching from Fluffy’s bowl ceased abruptly. She lifted her head, violet eyes wide and unnaturally alert, fixed intently on Kael. The cozy warmth of the café seemed to leach away, replaced by a sudden, sharp chill.

"Wrong?" Silas echoed, his voice low and rough. He gently peeled Stella off, keeping a hand on her shoulder, and moved to the large window overlooking Starlit Veil Alley. Dawn was strengthening, painting the sky in soft hues, but the air felt… thin. Electric. *Wrong*. He pushed the window open a crack. The usual scents of lavender and baking bread were undercut by something metallic, strained. "What kind of wrong?"

"That’s just it," Kael replied, frustration warring with a deeper fear. "She won’t say. Not clearly. Rambles about 'discordant harmonies,' 'fraying edges,' 'shadows where light should be.' But the instruments… Silas, the Tower instruments are showing fluctuations they’ve *never* recorded. Tidal predictions for Aquaros are completely skewed. Reports from Duneshade say chronosands are flowing erratically in places." He gestured helplessly towards the sky visible through the window. "It’s all tied to the lunar cycles, but it’s… chaotic. Unpredictable." He met Silas’s eyes, his own bleak. "It’s as if the Twin Moons themselves are… unwell. Stressed beyond measure."

*Sick moons.* The absurdity of the phrase clashed violently with the icy dread coiling in Silas’s gut. He’d seen realms burn and magic unravel, but the celestial bodies? They were the bedrock. The immutable constants. If they faltered… His knuckles whitened where he gripped the windowsill. The ever-present hum of his suppressed power vibrated just beneath his skin, resonating with the unnatural tension in the air.

"I have to go back," Kael said, his voice regaining a sliver of forced steadiness. "They’re convening an emergency council at Luminastra. All seven realms. Tempest’s envoys are already pounding the table, demanding answers. Pyralis… Ignarius sent a magma-scrawl demanding Liora 'fix it' immediately." He managed a weak, humorless twist of his lips. "As if she commands the heavens." He knelt, pulling Stella into a fierce hug. "Be good for Uncle Si, stardust. Listen to him. And listen to Fluffy, okay?" He kissed the top of her head, the gesture lingering.

Stella clung to him. "Papa? Is Mama okay?"

Kael drew back, smoothing her hair. His voice softened, thick with an emotion he couldn't hide. "She’s working very, very hard, sweetheart. Trying to understand what’s happening. She’ll be alright. We all will be." He stood, his gaze finding Silas’s again. The unspoken plea hung heavy in the air: *Keep her safe. She’s all I have out here.* "I’ll send word as soon as I know anything."

Silas gave a single, curt nod. "Go. Try to keep the warlords from starting Armageddon because the tides are late."

Kael offered another strained attempt at a smile and slipped out. The bell jingled behind him, the sound absurdly loud in the heavy silence he left behind. Stella sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Fluffy abandoned her half-eaten jerky, padding silently over to lean her solid warmth against Stella’s legs, a low, continuous rumble starting in her chest.

Silas watched Kael’s cloaked figure hurry down the alley until it vanished. The sense of wrongness intensified, a pressure building against his eardrums. He turned sharply from the window. The quiet life felt like tissue paper against a gale. "Right," he declared, his voice deliberately roughened. "Breakfast." He moved to the kitchen, pulling out bread, moonberry jam, and a smaller portion of salted fish for Fluffy. He slid a plate of generously jammed bread and a glass of milk towards Stella at her usual spot. Fluffy’s fish went on a plate near her feet. "Eat."

Stella picked listlessly at the crust. "Uncle Si?" she asked, her voice small. "Is the red moon sad too? Like Papa said Mama was?"

Silas paused, the knife hovering over the loaf he was cutting. He glanced towards the window. Nyxara’s crimson glow was still faint against the morning light, but it seemed… watchful. Intense. Like a banked fire ready to flare. "Moons don't get sad, kid," he said, focusing back on the bread, sawing a slice with more force than necessary. "They just *are*. Eat."

The day crawled by under a suffocating pall. The usual morning chatter in the café was hushed. Monks murmured prayers with unusual fervor. Merchants glanced nervously skyward instead of haggling. Even the starfinch kids seemed subdued, their usual pranks absent. Silas cleaned, restocked, and brewed tea with mechanical precision, his senses stretched taut, listening to the café, the alley, the very pulse of the world outside. Fluffy remained a vigilant shadow near Stella, her tail twitching, eyes constantly scanning the room and windows, her small form radiating coiled tension.

As the afternoon sun slanted low, casting long, distorted shadows across the alley, Silas knew Stella needed distraction. He crouched beside Fluffy, meeting her intelligent violet gaze. "Alright," he said, his voice low and serious. He jerked his chin towards Stella, who was stacking sugar cubes into a lopsided tower. "Take her out. Garden. Play. Keep her busy." He locked eyes with the dragon. "And keep your eyes *open*. Watch her. Protect her."

Fluffy chirped, a sharp, clear sound like cracking ice. She nudged Stella’s hand firmly with her snout. Stella looked up, a flicker of interest returning. "Can we go see if Magnus left any sparkly rocks, Fluffy?"

Fluffy butted her head gently against Stella’s leg, then padded deliberately towards the back door. Stella scrambled after her, a ghost of her usual energy returning. "We're gonna find the sparkliest one, Uncle Si!"

Silas watched them disappear into the tangled greenery. The silence that settled back into the café felt denser, heavier than before. He stood alone in the dimming light, the unnatural hum in the air a tangible pressure against his skin, underscored by the scent of ozone and something else… something cold.

Night fell. Lunira rose, her silver light bathing Moonhaven, but it lacked its usual serene clarity. It felt thin. Brittle. Nyxara followed, her crimson glow not just deep, but *angry*, seeming to pulse with a sullen, menacing energy. Silas kept glancing at the back door, expecting it to burst open with demands for dinner. But the alley outside remained unnervingly quiet. No distant shrieks of discovery, no excited chatter about rocks. Just the oppressive silence and the wrong light.

A cold knot formed in Silas’s stomach. He pushed away from the counter, crossed the room in three strides, and yanked the back door open. "Stella! Fluffy! Inside. Now!"

Moments later, two figures emerged from the gloom. Stella looked weary, clutching a smooth, dark stone tightly. Fluffy walked rigidly beside her, head held high, body a line of taut alertness, her luminous eyes constantly scanning the rooftops and the deeper shadows pooling in the alley corners. She gave Silas a single, low chirp – *Clear. For now.*

"Bath," Silas ordered, his voice firm, masking the wash of relief. "Then bed. Both of you."

Still no word from Kael. Still no word from Liora.

After a subdued bath where Stella splashed listlessly, Silas led her and her silent draconic shadow upstairs to his room. He pulled back the covers on his own bed. "In."

"But Papa and Mama…" Stella began, her lower lip starting to wobble. "They said they'd be back…"

"They’re caught up," Silas cut in, his voice softening despite himself. "Big moon stuff, remember? Takes time. You sleep here tonight." He pointed to the foot of the bed. Fluffy was already there, looking up expectantly. "Guard duty. Proper watch. Eyes open. No sleeping on the job. Keep her safe."

Fluffy chirped once, sharply, in acknowledgment. She hopped onto the bed with surprising grace, circled once, and settled down, resting her head on her front paws. Her violet eyes remained wide open, fixed unwaveringly on the door. A low, continuous rumble started in her chest – not a sleepy purr, but the steady thrum of a vigilant engine.

Stella, worn out by worry and the day’s strangeness, crawled under the covers. She snuggled down, one small hand reaching out instinctively to rest on Fluffy’s warm, scaled back. "Okay, Uncle Si. G'night, Fluffy." Her eyes closed almost immediately, her breathing deepening into the rhythm of sleep within minutes, soothed by the dragon’s solid, protective presence.

Silas pulled a wooden chair near the open window. He didn't light a lamp. He sat in the near-darkness, bathed in the conflicting, unsettling light of the Twin Moons. The unnatural tension hadn't lessened; it had thickened, pressing in on the small room, making the air feel viscous. He watched the sky, every sense straining against the silence. Fluffy’s watchful eyes glowed softly in the dimness, fixed on the door, her vigilant rumble a constant counterpoint to the oppressive quiet.

Hours crawled by. The moons climbed higher, their dissonant light painting strange patterns on the floor. Lunira’s silver seemed strained, flickering occasionally like a weak flame. Nyxara’s crimson pulsed with a sullen, resentful energy. And then Silas saw it.

Lunira’s light didn’t just flicker; it *stuttered*. A spasm of darkness, deep and utterly alien, seemed to pulse *through* her silver disc, dimming it momentarily like a hand passing over a lantern. Simultaneously, Nyxara’s crimson glare flared violently, washing the rooftops of Moonhaven in stark, bloody light, before collapsing back into an even deeper, more menacing ember-glow. The discord wasn't just visible; it sent a silent, jarring shockwave through the air. The shutters rattled faintly in their frames. Fluffy’s head snapped up, a sharp, questioning chirp escaping her.

Silas was on his feet before the echo of the chirp faded. He stood at the window, hands braced hard on the sill, knuckles bone-white. He stared up at the unstable, wounded heavens, the celestial bodies that governed the very pulse of Arcanthos’s magic behaving like panicked, injured beasts. The fragile peace of the Rusted Lantern, the carefully constructed facade of retirement, the warmth of Stella sleeping safely under Fluffy's guard… it all shriveled into insignificance against the terrifying malfunction unfolding in the vast, indifferent sky above.

A deep, weary sigh escaped him, fogging the cool glass of the windowpane for a fleeting second before vanishing. He didn't need a frantic message from Kael. He didn't need Liora’s desperate observations confirmed. The irrefutable truth was written in the shuddering, erratic, and fundamentally *wrong* dance of the Twin Moons.

The storm wasn't gathering on the horizon. It had already broken. And its terrifying eye was fixed squarely on the heavens themselves. The quiet life of Si the café owner was over. Silas Ward, the Storm Sovereign, was needed.

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