Chapter 3

The clay pot in Caelum’s backyard split right in two. A loud crack echoed through the freezing air, followed by a heavy burst of air pressure that felt like crashing ocean waves.

Lyra stood panting in the middle of the snowy yard. Both of her hands were trembling, wrapped in a restless glow of silvery-blue aura. All around her, the snow didn't just melt—it levitated, caught in the chaotic gravity of her surging moon magic.

The pine tree near the house even collapsed, knocked down by a wave of silvery light that exploded from her palms. Lyra’s dark eyes followed the falling pine, and when the massive trunk slammed into the snow, she jumped in surprise.

“Damn it! Why is this so hard?!” Lyra cursed harshly, stomping her feet one after another.

She clenched her fists tightly, trying to force the moon magic back into her blood. Instead of obeying, the silvery-blue glow on her fingers sparkled even harder. The light swirled wildly in the air like a directionless vortex, before bouncing back and slapping her right in the face.

“Damn it!” She scolded herself again.

Lyra simply wanted to form a small blossom of moonlight—a basic low-level magic exercise meant to shape moonlight into a lovely form, something moon witch teenagers usually mastered with ease. But far from blooming into anything graceful, her moon magic always ended up in an energetic burst aimed straight at her nose until she got a nosebleed.

“What kind of witch can’t even control her basic energy?” Lyra berated herself, kicking a clay shard hard across the snowy ground. “Useless!”

“If that pot had a mouth, it would be begging for mercy by now, Sweetheart.”

That deep, warm voice scattered Lyra’s frustration.

Caelum stepped out from behind the kitchen door, strolling casually across the snowy yard that currently looked like an actual war zone. The man didn't look shocked or angry at all to see a fallen pine tree and his favorite pot destroyed. He wore only a short-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows, carrying two cups of hot tea with steam curling up into the cold air.

Lyra turned around, her blonde hair whipping across her face in the chilly breeze. She even cursed her own hair in her mind. “Don’t mock me, Caelum. This isn’t funny!”

“I’m not mocking you.” Caelum replied calmly. He set the two cups of tea on a wooden bench that had miraculously survived the magic blast. “I’m just impressed. The destructive power of your magic gets better every day.”

“You’re not complimenting me, you naive Craftsman! That was a disaster!” Lyra shouted, her voice high-pitched with all the frustration pent up in her chest. She raised her hands, which were still glowing with faint silvery-blue light. “This moon magic can’t be controlled! Every time I try to channel it, my soul feels hollow, my blood freezes, and then in a matter of seconds ... boom! The gravitational wave explodes and wrecks everything!”

Lyra took a deep breath, her chest heaving heavily amidst the cold gust of wind.

“Your nose is bleeding.” Caelum pulled out a clean handkerchief and gently wiped the trace of blood above Lyra’s red lips.

“What if one day this burst of moon magic doesn't just destroy pots or pine trees?” Lyra whispered. Her pride and anger slowly melted away, leaving behind a deep sense of helplessness. “What if while I’m asleep, or when I accidentally lose my temper with you, my moon magic goes wild and turns you into a sloth, Caelum? My power isn't a blessing. It’s a dark curse running in my blood.”

Caelum wanted to laugh, but he held back, afraid Lyra might get offended and actually turn him into a sloth. The broad-shouldered man stepped closer, closing the distance between them completely, and cupped Lyra’s pale cheek with his warm palm.

“Don’t come any closer!” Lyra warned, taking a step back in the snow. “My hands are still radiating moon magic, Caelum! You’ll get hurt!”

“Then turn me into a sloth. If that’s not enough, turn me into a deer.” Caelum offered casually.

Ignoring the silvery-blue aura radiating a chilling emptiness around Lyra, Caelum reached out with his rough, calloused hands. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed both of Lyra’s wrists, holding them firmly.

A wave of moon magic swept against Caelum’s arms, stinging his brown skin with a piercing cold. But Caelum didn't even flinch. Instead, he tightened his grip, pulling both of Lyra’s hands until they rested flat against his broad chest.

Warmth began to spread from Caelum’s skin, transferring into Lyra’s stiff palms.

Like the warm morning sun, the silvery-blue glow on Lyra’s fingers instantly shifted into a soft, warm yellow. The uncontrollable moon magic settled down, like a ship finally finding a safe harbor to dock. The gravitational pressure around them returned to normal, and the floating snow grains dropped back to the ground.

Lyra froze. She stared at her hands resting against Caelum’s chest, feeling his steady, warm heartbeat. It truly was a safe haven for her troubled mind.

“See?” Caelum whispered gently and soothingly. “Your magic didn't turn me into a sloth.”

“But you got hurt.” Lyra glanced at the redness on Caelum’s arm with a pang of guilt, completely unable to recall when that mark had appeared.

“Caelum, you don’t understand. The dark side of moon magic is cruel. When I lose control, there’s a voice in my head telling me to drain all energy and destroy everything around me. I’m even afraid of myself!”

Lyra tried to pull her hands back, but Caelum held them firm.

“Then let me be your anchor,” Caelum said directly, his golden-brown eyes locking onto Lyra’s dark ones without a single trace of doubt. “If your magic rages, pour it onto me. If the dark voice in your head tells you to destroy the world, come to me and hold me until you feel calm.”

“You’re crazy, Caelum,” Lyra whispered, tears finally slipping down her face. “You’re just an ordinary craftsman. Why should you carry the burden of a monster like me?”

“Because you’re not a monster, Lyra,” Caelum said firmly, wiping the tears streaming down his wife’s pale skin. “You’re just a woman who’s been carrying this heavy burden alone for far too long. You built walls around yourself out of fear of hurting others. But with me, you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”

Lyra bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs pressing to be released. In the end, the walls of pride she had always been so fierce about crumbled instantly before Caelum’s genuine warmth.

The moon magic inside her chest no longer felt terrifying or painful. Near her husband, that dark power felt comforting instead—like moonlight reflecting the gentle warmth of the sun.

“Your power isn’t a curse, Lyra.” Caelum continued, resting his forehead gently against hers. “The same hands that can knock down a tree are the ones that make me hot tea every morning. Sooner or later, you’ll learn to control your magic. And I love every single part of you, including the darkest and wildist side you’re so afraid of.”

Their breaths mingled in the quiet winter air. Lyra closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Caelum’s body melt away the remaining fear in her soul.

“You’re quite the smooth talker, Craftsman,” Lyra whispered softly, though the corners of her lips curled into a sweet, genuine smile. She wrapped her arms around Caelum’s broad waist, hugging him tightly. “Just you wait. If you ever make me mad one day, I’m turning you into a frog.”

Caelum chuckled softly. “First a sloth, now a frog.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

“I’ll make sure to stack extra firewood then,” Caelum added playfully.

Wrapped in Caelum’s arms, Lyra had finally found what she needed most, a place where she could be completely herself, without the fear of being a threat to the person she loved.

The bond between the Moon Witch and the craftsman was now etched even deeper—far stronger than any magic in the world.

***