THE FORGOTTEN HEIRESS OF THE MOON KINGDOM

Elara sprinted until her chest burned and her breath came in ragged gasps.

Branches clawed at her arms as she crashed deeper into the forest, slipping on slick leaves and tripping over hidden roots.

She didn't care where she went. She just knew one thing.

She couldn't go home.

Not after the soldiers burst in. Not after that note:

ELARA. RUN. DO NOT RETURN.

And especially not after the strange, silvery mark that was suddenly glowing on her chest.

It pulsed now, just below her torn dress. Every so often, warmth would ripple through her, hot and bright then a sharp jolt, like something inside her was shaking itself awake.

"Stop," she muttered, pressing a shaky hand over her heart.

The light flickered out.

She sucked in a breath, relief washing through her, just for a second.

Then snap.

A tree branch cracked behind her.

Elara froze. Her heart hammered so loud she thought for sure it would give her away.

Were the soldiers already on her trail?

She spun, peering through the dark. Nothing. Only trees, the shadows breathing.

She ran on. She didn't dare stop. It felt endless a blur of tangled branches and soggy earth until finally, a small crooked cottage peeked out from behind the trunks.

Smoke twisted from its odd, leaning chimney. A lantern glowed by the door.

She remembered who lived here the village healer, Mother Mira.

If anyone understood what was happening to her, it'd be Mira.

Elara rushed up and knocked, once, then twice, then three times her fist trembling.

"Mother Mira?"

No answer.

She knocked again, more desperate. "Please. I need help."

At last, the door creaked open.

Mother Mira stood on the other side: silver hair loose down her back, sharp eyes scanning Elara from head to toe.

"Elara?" she said, voice scratchy but surprised.

"Please," Elara whispered. "Something's wrong with me."

Without hesitation, the old woman stepped aside. "Come in."

Inside, the cottage was thick with the scent of herbs and dried flowers. Dozens of glass bottles lined the shelves, filled with weird, glowing liquids.

Mira shut the door behind them and bolted it. Then she turned around.

"What happened?"

"I... I don't know." Elara's own voice sounded strange thin and far away. "The royal soldiers they found me. And then..." She swallowed. "Something changed."

"What do you mean?"

Elara hesitated, hands shaking, then pulled her collar down.

The mark shone there, a crescent of silver, bright against her skin.

Mother Mira stared. Her face went paper-white. The cup she was holding slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.

Elara jumped at the noise. "Mother Mira?"

The old woman just stared at the mark. Not confused. Not curious. Terrified.

"No..." The word barely made it out.

She stepped back, shaking her head. "No, no, no..."

"What?" Elara pressed, panic rising.

Mother Mira's eyes met hers. "Where did you get that?"

"I don't know. It just appeared it wasn't there before, I swear." Elara's voice came out too loud, desperate.

"How long?"

"Tonight," she said.

Mother Mira stared a few seconds more.

Then, so quiet Elara almost missed it: "The Moon Princess..."

Elara blinked, uncertain she'd heard right. "What?"

Mira's gaze slid toward the window. "The Moon Princess."

Elara frowned. "Who is that?"

No answer. Not at first.

"Mother Mira?" Elara stepped closer.

"You shouldn't have come here," Mira said suddenly, her voice trembling.

Elara felt a chill crawl down her neck. "Why?"

Moving fast, Mira pulled the curtains closed, double checked the lock, then hurried back. She grabbed Elara's shoulders, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice fierce.

Elara could barely breathe. "You're scaring me."

"You need to leave," Mira said.

"What?"

"Tonight."

"Why?!" The urge to cry rose up, tight and hot.

Mira glanced at the silver mark again, eyes haunted. "Because that mark shouldn't exist."

Elara's heart thudded in her chest. "What does it mean?"

The old woman hesitated.

"It means someone lied."

"Who?"

For a moment, guilt flickered across Mira's face mixed with fear.

"They told everyone the Moon Princess died eighteen years ago."

Elara's world seemed to tilt. "The princess?"

Mira nodded. "Princess Elara Lunaris."

The name hit her hard deep and inexplicable. Something shifted inside. Suddenly, a memory flashed in her mind a woman with flowing silver hair, a crown. Warm arms wrapped around a small child.

Then darkness.

Elara staggered, grabbing her head.

"Ah!"

Pain shot through her skull, vision blurring.

A voice, gentle and distant, echoed in her mind: My little moon...

She gasped and the vision vanished.

Mira caught her by the elbow. "What did you see?"

Elara could barely get the words out. "I don't know."

Something in Mira's expression softened now-sadness, deeper than fear.

"How old are you?" the old healer whispered.

"Eighteen."

Mira's fingers trembled against Elara's skin. "Eighteen," she repeated, like the number itself was a curse.

"Mother Mira," Elara choked out, "What aren't you telling me?"

The old woman looked her straight in the eye.

"You were brought to this village eighteen years ago." Her voice was quiet.

Elara's heartbeat was a drum in her ears. "What?"

"You were only a baby."

Elara stared, reeling. "Who brought me?"

Mira shook her head. "I don't know."

"You're lying." Anger flared now, pushing past her fear.

Mira squeezed her hand. "I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?"

Mira didn't answer; instead, she reached out, cold fingers wrapping around Elara's.

She fixed her with a steady, urgent gaze.

"If they learn you survived..." She squeezed tighter. "They will come for you."

Elara almost stopped breathing. "Who?"

Mother Mira's eyes filled with dread.

And then she whispered, so soft it barely broke the silence

"The people who made sure the Moon Princess never claimed her throne."