Chapter 10 – Moonlit Misunderstandings

The goblin field lay quiet under a cold silver moon.

Seraphina pressed her heels into the soft grass.

Warm wind carried the smell of crushed moss.

(Stay calm. Breathe deep.)

She spotted a faint shimmer over the broken rocks.

Luna drifted closer, wings shining like soap bubbles.

(Oh, this will be delightful.)

“Thank you for coming, Luna. (I need answers tonight.)”

“Anytime, dear instructor. (Answers? I prefer questions.)”

Seraphina folded her hands in front of her belt.

“I wish to speak about Alfred. (Please, no riddles.)”

“Alfred is a fascinating subject. (And the best toy in the world.)”

She swallowed and moved one step nearer.

“Is his heart set on revenge? (Say no, please say no.)”

“Revenge is only one flavor on a very long menu. (Let her taste panic.)”

Seraphina flinched at the careful words.

“So… you cannot deny it. (There is darkness inside him.)”

“I cannot deny many things. (Especially the ones that scare you.)”

Seraphina glanced at the neat pile of sleeping goblins.

“He fought with kindness. (Yet I saw hidden purpose.)”

“In every kind act hides a secret note. (Maybe. Maybe not.)”

Seraphina clasped her pendant.

“My fear grows larger each hour. (Will he choose doom?)”

“Fears are like shadows. They grow when you stare. (Stare harder, girl.)”

She shook her head.

“I will guide him to gentle quests. (Bake cakes, feed orphans, save kittens.)”

“Guiding a river with a teacup sounds brave. (And impossible.)”

Seraphina straightened her shoulders.

“I refuse to let the river flood. (Even if I drown.)”

“Floods feel exciting when the water is warm. (Splish splash.)”

Her cheeks warmed at the teasing tone.

“This is serious, Luna. (Stop laughing.)”

“Seriousness is overrated. (Laughter lasts longer.)”

Seraphina rubbed her arms against the breeze.

“Tell me the truth you hide. (Spare me guessing games.)”

“I hide nothing. I reveal in layers. (Peeling you like an onion.)”

She bit her lip.

“Layers hurt when they reach the heart. (I might bleed hope.)”

“Sweet pain, salty tears, perfect seasoning. (Now simmer.)”

Seraphina paced three small circles.

“Is there a prophecy about him? (Please, dear stars, let there be none.)”

“Prophecies multiply when people whisper. (I sell them by the dozen.)”

She froze mid‑step.

“So the rumors of a Nightshade heir are… alive? (Alive and hungry.)”

“Rumors are children. Feed them and they grow tall. (I bring snacks.)”

Seraphina shivered.

“I will starve them with light. (Blind them with good deeds.)”

“Light can be tasty too. Moths know that. (And they burn.)”

She brushed red curls from her eyes.

“You twist every answer. (My head spins.)”

“I untwist your comfort. (Chaos is my ribbon.)”

Seraphina stared at the moon.

“I see a crown up there. (Will he wear one made of night?)”

“Some crowns fall. Some float. Some bite. (Nom nom.)”

Her throat tightened.

“If he wears it, I will stay beside him. (Even at the edge of shadow.)”

“Beside is perfect for hand‑holding. (And rumor‑feeding.)”

Her face burned again.

“I hold his hand only to pull him back. (Not because I want to.)”

“Hands often forget who leads. (And who follows.)”

Seraphina covered her ears.

“No more riddles. (I beg you.)”

“Very well. Ask one clear question. (Make it juicy.)”

She inhaled the night air.

“Does Alfred dream of revenge? (Please say no.)”

“Dreams change each night. (Tonight they taste like spice and thunder.)”

Seraphina’s breath caught.

“Spice and thunder… (That sounds like war.)”

“Or a street festival. (Depends on the drummer.)”

She squeezed her pendant.

“I will write peaceful lullabies. (Drown the drums.)”

“Lullabies can hide knives. (Soft pillows, sharp surprises.)”

Seraphina’s knees wobbled.

“Stop painting horrors. (My courage cracks.)”

“I only splash color. You name it horror. (Your canvas, not mine.)”

She crouched to steady herself.

“We both care for him, do we not? (Surely she cares.)”

“Caring is a flexible word. (Stretch, stretch.)”

Seraphina rose again, eyes shining.

“I care in a straight line. (No bends, no twists.)”

“I care in spirals. (Whee!)”

The instructor stomped one boot.

“Spirals lead to pits. (Stay on the path!)”

“Pits reveal treasure. (And skeletons.)”

She pressed a palm over her racing heart.

“I will rescue the treasure without waking skeletons. (Pray for me.)”

“Skeletons enjoy company. (They love hugs.)”

Seraphina blinked back a tear.

“He has lost enough. (No more bones.)”

“Loss breeds stories. Stories sell. (I collect them.)”

She drew closer, voice low.

“I will rewrite his story. (Happy ending guaranteed.)”

“Rewrite? I prefer sequels. (Trilogies make me rich in laughs.)”

Seraphina pointed at the village lights in the distance.

“He deserves peace in that inn. (Just one quiet night.)”

“Peace snores loudly. (Misunderstanding whispers sweeter.)”

She nodded with sad clarity.

“Then I will be his shield. (Even if it cracks.)”

“Shields become mirrors when polished. (He will see himself in you.)”

Heat spread through her cheeks.

“Do not say such things. (My heart might agree.)”

“Agreement is the first dance step. (Cha‑cha‑cha.)”

She pressed both hands to her burning face.

“Luna, you are impossible. (Yet I need you.)”

“Impossible is my favorite dress. (Fits every party.)”

Seraphina sighed at the moon.

“I hear fate laughing through you. (Please stop.)”

“Fate tickles me daily. (I tickle back.)”

The redhead squared her posture.

“Promise to help me steer him. (Say yes.)”

“I promise to stand near the wheel. (And nudge it.)”

She exhaled relief.

“Near is enough. (I can handle nudges.)”

“Near lets me whisper. (Whispers move mountains of gossip.)”

Seraphina brushed grass from her skirt.

“I will resist every rumor. (If it kills me.)”

“Rumors enjoy resistance. (Makes them stronger.)”

A new sound drifted through the trees.

Boots approached with steady rhythm.

Shadows bent aside as Alfred stepped into the moonlight.

He carried two travel bags under one arm.

(He moves so calm. Like the eye of a storm.)

Alfred paused by the sleeping goblins.

He gave a small nod to their neat rows.

Then his dark eyes met Seraphina’s.

“The inn is ready. Rooms for three. Let us go.”

(No rage, no crown, just soft words.)

Luna twirled once in mid‑air.

“Lead the way, fearless one. (Chapter eleven, here we come.)”

Seraphina followed behind them on the path toward the village lamps.

(The night is deep, but I will keep him in the light.)

Luna fluttered at Alfred’s shoulder, silver dust sparkling around them.

(And I will keep the misunderstandings bright.)