**Lunaria Academy | Day of the Dual Moon Festival**
The twin moons were full. Magic in the air buzzed with intensity — spells behaved unpredictably, secrets itched to escape, and no lie stayed buried for long.
The campus shimmered with silver and blue banners. Lanterns floated in clusters. Students wore enchanted masks. It was supposed to be a night of celebration.
But for three people?
It was a war ground.
---
**Meher | Crescent Garden Balcony**
She stood alone under the moonlight, dressed in black silk with silver embroidery that caught the wind like fire. Her mask covered half her face, but the rest?
Untouchable.
Strong.
Unapologetic.
Vihaan appeared beside her, offering her a glowing drink.
“You know,” he said casually, “if this were a drama, this is the part where your ex shows up all messed up and dramatic.”
She snorted. “He’s not that dramatic.”
As if on cue—
**“Meher.”**
She turned slowly.
Aayan.
Hair tousled. Dark mask in hand. No blazer. Just a black open collar shirt, sleeves rolled, and a look in his eyes like he'd crossed storms to reach her.
Vihaan nodded at her. “...I take that back.” And left.
Aayan stepped closer.
“Can we talk?”
She sighed. “We did that. You just weren’t listening then.”
“I’m listening now.”
Silence.
The moons glowed. Somewhere, a slow song began playing.
He held out his hand.
“Please.”
She didn’t take it immediately. But eventually… she let him lead her to the edge of the terrace, where their fingers found each other again — not with heat, but history.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
“I always did. You just forgot to see it when she was around.”
He winced. “I made mistakes.”
“I made the mistake of letting them slide.”
He looked at her then — really looked.
“I wanted to protect what we had, but I never realized I was hurting it more by pretending I didn’t want more.”
“You didn’t just hurt *us*, Aayan,” she said. “You hurt *me.* You stood still while I was burning.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. I’m asking you to let me try. To fix what I broke.”
She stepped back, just a little.
“You don’t get to fix me,” she said. “I’m not your regret project.”
Then, she turned — not harshly, but with quiet power — and walked away into the crowd.
And Aayan?
He didn’t chase this time.
Because he knew:
**She wasn’t walking away to be dramatic.**
She was walking away because she’d finally remembered her worth.
---
**Elsewhere | Zoya’s Cracks Begin**
Back in the spell garden, Zoya sat surrounded by a group of friends, still dressed like the queen of the night.
But the laughter felt thin.
A girl leaned in. “Hey… weird question. That clip of Meher and Aayan? Are you sure it wasn’t edited?”
Zoya blinked. “Excuse me?”
Another chimed in. “I overheard Aravind telling a professor that someone tampered with the Archive spell. Something about illegal memory cut-glamour.”
Zoya laughed nervously. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Right. It’s just… you *do* wear that charm ring every time you’re around projection magic.”
Zoya froze.
More murmurs.
More suspicion.
And then—Vihaan appeared out of nowhere, sipping a juice box like a villain in slow motion.
He leaned down beside Zoya and whispered:
“Funny how truth spells always find their way back. Enjoy the spotlight, Your Highness.”
He winked — and walked away.
And Zoya?
For the first time…
**She felt fear.**
---
Mehar's dress 👇
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Aayan's dress 👇
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Zoya's dress 👇
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