His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT: CERTAINTY

Cassian’s Perspective

The early morning light was faint and fragile, barely peeking over the horizon. The towering trees of the forest stood like dark shadows against the pale sky, their outlines blurred in the dimness. The air hung heavy and still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. I needed to reach Vanessa’s grave before the day fully stirred to life.

I wasn’t prepared to face her yet.

But the gnawing guilt inside me was relentless, clawing at my soul like a ravenous beast that refused to be ignored. There was no escaping it—not anymore.

Wrapping my cloak tighter around my shoulders, I moved steadily toward the forest’s edge. Beyond the trees lay the graveyard, a place shrouded in silence and sorrow, where few dared to venture. Not out of indifference, but because it was the spot where I had left my heart buried alongside her.

Her resting place was modest, as I had always wanted. No grand monuments or elaborate ceremonies—just a simple stone, her name etched faintly in silver that was beginning to fade, along with the date of her passing, carved deep enough to defy the world’s forgetfulness.

And yet, it felt as though the world had already forgotten her.

I knelt down, pressing my palm against the cold, hard surface of the stone. Beneath it lay the weight of the earth—and beneath that, the crushing burden of everything I had failed to protect. The world continued to spin, to move forward, indifferent to the hole she left behind.

Without her. Without us.

“Vanessa,” I murmured, my voice breaking like fragile glass. Her name cut through me, sharp and raw. “I’m sorry. I know words mean nothing now, but I’m sorry. I promised I’d be everything you needed. I swore we’d rule side by side. I failed you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, like a heavy verdict passed down from some unseen judge. It reminded me that forgiveness was a luxury I did not deserve. I had let her slip through my fingers, and now, as the emptiness she left behind threatened to swallow me whole, my thoughts betrayed me.

They drifted to someone else.

Someone who should never have crossed my mind.

Someone who was not her.

The violet-eyed girl.

I drew a shaky breath and forced myself to rise. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t understand why she’s here, why I’m drawn to her like this. But I swear on everything—she will never replace you.”

I cast one last glance at the grave before turning away, leaving the quiet sanctuary behind me.

By the time I returned to the castle, the heavy mantle of leadership settled over my shoulders like a stone. There was no room for distractions. My mind could not afford to wander. The realm teetered on the brink of chaos, and I had to remain the steady hand guiding it.

I strode through the castle’s ancient halls, the familiar scent of damp earth and polished stone filling my lungs. The walls felt like a cage, closing in tighter with every step. Yet, my thoughts were consumed by the girl locked away in the dungeon—the girl who had no right to be there.

Entering the war room, I immediately spotted Caleb, my younger brother, bent over a sprawling map of the kingdom. He looked up as I came in, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a flicker of curiosity. Ever since the girl’s arrival, he had been watching me closely.

“You look troubled,” Caleb said, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

I said nothing at first, instead walking over to the window and staring out at the courtyard below. The castle, with all its grandeur and history, now felt like a prison built on lies and bloodshed.

“She’s not Felicity, Caleb,” I finally said, my voice sharp and edged with frustration, though I knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful. “No matter what anyone else thinks, she isn’t her.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady and probing. “How can you be so sure? She looks exactly like Felicity.”

I spun around, fists clenched tightly at my sides. “She’s not Felicity. She’s not.”

Caleb studied me carefully, and for a moment, I wondered if he sensed something I refused to admit—something hidden deep within me.

“You’re certain of that?” he asked quietly.

I flinched, the words tasting like fire on my tongue. “I just am.” There was no concrete proof, no tangible evidence to back my instinct, but I could feel it deep in my bones, in the very core of my being. This girl was different. She was not Felicity.

There was something about her—something that stirred a dangerous mix of anger and desire within me. She wasn’t a mere pawn in the political games we played. She wasn’t someone I could manipulate or control.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“Enter,” I called.

Kin, my beta, stepped inside. Tall, dark, and radiating a barely contained intensity, he carried an aura of controlled aggression. But today, his eyes held something else—something I didn’t like. Concern. He had been my closest ally for years, but sometimes he doubted my judgment.

“Cassian,” he began, voice steady but cautious, “we need to talk.”

“I’m not in the mood, Kin,” I snapped, my patience already worn thin. “Is this about the girl again?”

Kin didn’t flinch. “Yes. I’m certain of it. That girl… she’s using some kind of charm, isn’t she? That’s why you’re reacting this way. She has to be Felicity.”

I rose abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. “She’s not Felicity!” I growled, voice low and dangerous. “And if you question me again, Kin, I’ll—”

“Cassian,” Kin interrupted, calm but firm, “what do you truly know? You say she isn’t Felicity, but I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

I clenched my fists, frustration roaring inside me like a storm. “I don’t need you questioning my decisions. I’m the king here.” I took a step toward him, my voice hardening. “I said she’s not Felicity, and that’s final.”

Kin met my gaze without wavering. “Then prove it.”

I snapped, anger flaring. “Stop questioning me, Kin. That’s an order.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension thick between us. Kin didn’t argue. He simply nodded and turned, the door clicking softly behind him.

I stood alone, staring at the empty space where he had been, chest tight, mind racing. What was I doing?

And why did it feel like I was slipping further and further out of control?