TWELVE HUX
TWELVE
HUX
The gardens at night were nothing like they were during the day. Moonflowers glowed silver along the pathways, the Warning Bell bower chiming softly as they passed—not alarm, but something almost welcoming—and the whole place breathed with a magic the daylight couldn’t quite contain.
Lunaria led him along paths that had been overgrown with debris two weeks ago and were now clear, well-maintained walkways. The gardens were responding to her magic in ways that shouldn’t have been possible—decades of neglect erased in days, dead plants springing back to life at her touch.
She stopped at a circular bed near the Celestial Pavilion. The flowers here were different from the others—lilies with pale, glowing petals that pulsed gently with inner light. They reacted to her presence, brightening as she knelt beside them.
“Fate Lilies.” She gestured for him to join her. “They respond to destiny-lines, to the paths supernaturals are meant to walk. When I touch them, they show me glimpses of fate.”
Hux knelt across from her, the soft earth cool beneath his knees. The lilies pulsed between them, their glow casting strange shadows across Lunaria’s face.
“I did a quick reading of your chart at Girls’ Night. Just the surface stuff.” She met his gaze. “This will be different. Deeper. I’m going to look at your entire fate line—everything you were meant to have, meant to be, meant to find.”
“And if it confirms what Deia wrote? That an entity has been consuming my potential since before I was born?”
“Then at least we’ll know what we’re fighting.”
He nodded. She closed her eyes.
What happened next was unlike anything Hux had ever witnessed.
Lunaria’s hands moved through the air, tracing patterns that left faint trails of light behind them.
Her fingers drew shapes—constellations, he realized.
Star patterns appearing and dissolving as she worked, her brow furrowed in concentration.
The Fate Lilies responded, their glow intensifying, pulsing in rhythm with her movements. Light gathered around them both, and Hux felt a stirring beneath his ribs—the beast pressing against the inside of his skin, responding to magic it didn’t understand but recognized as important.
Her face changed as she worked. Concentration gave way to surprise. Surprise to something darker. Her hands slowed, the star patterns becoming more careful, more deliberate.
Finally, she opened her eyes. They were wet.
“There’s an eclipse.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Immense ancient power. It’s sitting directly on your fate line, blocking everything behind it.”
“Blocking what?”
“Everything.” She reached for him, took both his hands in hers.
Her grip was tight. Almost desperate. “Hux, I can see the shape of what should be there. The potential that was meant to exist. You were supposed to have a fated mate. You were supposed to feel complete. But something is consuming it. Devouring every drop of potential before it can form. You’re not flawed.
You’re not incapable. It is feeding on what should fill you. ”
The words crashed over him.
Not flawed. Not incapable. Not fundamentally defective in some way that everyone else could see but no one would name.
Stolen from.
His hands trembled. He noticed it distantly, the way he might notice weather changes or traffic patterns—an observation rather than a feeling.
His whole body quaked actually. Forty years of believing he was defective, that he’d somehow failed at the most basic supernatural instinct, that he would never know what it felt like to be whole—
“Hey.” Lunaria’s voice cut through the spiral. Her hands tightened on his, anchoring him. “Look at me.”
He looked. Her face was close. Closer than it had been in the archives, closer than it had been during any of their interactions. The Fate Lilies cast pale light across her features, illuminating the concern there, the fierce determination beneath it.
“We’re going to figure this out.” No sarcasm. No deflection. Just certainty. “Whatever your family did, whatever was done to you—we’re going to find it, and we’re going to fix it.”
“You don’t even like me.”
The words came out without permission. Defensive. Vulnerable. The kind of thing he’d never say to anyone, least of all the chaotic witch who’d spent the past two weeks pushing every button he had.
Her laugh caught him off guard. Genuine. Surprised. The sound of it loosened tension wound tight behind his sternum.
“I like you fine. You’re insufferable, and you have too many forms, and your color-coded filing system is a monument to control issues, but you’re also—” She stopped.
Looked away. When she spoke again, her voice was different.
Softer. “You’re the first person in ten years who’s made me want to stay somewhere long enough to solve a mystery. ”
The air between them changed.
The Fate Lilies pulsed brighter, responding to energy neither of them had named.
The night wrapped around them, heavy with starlight and possibility.
Her hands were still in his. Her face was still close.
Her lips were slightly parted, and the beast under his skin was doing things it had never done before—not growling, not prowling, but reaching.
Straining toward her with desperate hunger.
“Have you eaten today?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Dinner. Food. Have you had any?”
“I...” She frowned, clearly trying to remember. “No, actually. I haven’t thought about it.”
“There’s a diner on the pier that stays open late. Best pancakes on the coast.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “This counts as a work meeting. We can discuss investigative strategies over waffles.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re taking me out for pancakes at 11:00 PM.”
“Waffles are also an option.”
“That wasn’t a complaint.” She let him help her to her feet, and for a moment, they stood close, hands still linked. “Lead the way, Mayor Clipboard.”