Ace exhales deeply, the words falling from his lips before he can stop them. "What am I supposed to do now?"
Marsel's amber eyes glow faintly in the moonlight, their intensity unwavering.
For a long moment, he says nothing, letting the question linger in the cool night air. Then, he speaks, his tone calm but resolute.
"You must first accept your destiny. That's the first thing ,"
Ace's chest tightens, his instincts screaming at him to protest. He clenches his fists, trying to control his emoticons. "I'm ready. I'll do whatever it takes to get this over with. I don't care what it means anymore."
Marsel steps closer, his gaze piercing. "No," he says simply, his voice firm. "You're not ready."
"What do you mean I'm not ready?" Ace snaps, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "You don't know what I've been through! I didn't ask for this, but if it's my so-called fate, then fine! Just tell me what to do!"
Marsel shakes his head slowly, his expression unreadable. "Saying the words is not enough. I can see it in you—your doubt, your anger, your fear. Until you accept the truth of who you are, fully and without reservation, no power in this world can help you. I am giving you time, Ace. Time to come to terms with what you've been running from."
Ace feels a sharp sting in his chest, as though Marsel's words have struck something deep within him.
He opens his mouth to argue but stops when he sees the unyielding resolve in the man's gaze. It's maddening.
"What gives you the right to decide if I'm ready?" he mutters bitterly.
Marsel doesn't answer directly. Instead, he folds his arms, his eyes softening just enough to make Ace feel like he's being studied rather than judged. "When you are ready, you will know. And so will I."
Frustration wells up inside Ace, but he swallows it down. "Ugh!" Ace exclaims raffling his hair.
"You don't have to rush anything, you can come with me if you want , stay and think of all that, and when you are ready , we will move to another step."
The offer is tempting, but Ace hesitates.
The thought of relying on a stranger, no matter how powerful or insightful, feels wrong.
But then he remembers the swirling questions in his mind—the bond with Kieran that seems severed, the power Marsel claims he has.
Marsel has answers, and Ace knows he can't afford to walk away.
After a long pause, Ace nods reluctantly. "Fine."
Marsel turns and begins walking, his strides sure and steady. Ace follows, his steps heavy with exhaustion and uncertainty.
°
Marsel's house is nothing like Ace expects.
Tucked at the edge of the forest, it's a sturdy, two-story cabin made of dark wood, with ivy climbing its walls and lanterns glowing warmly in the windows.
Smoke drifts lazily from the chimney, and the scent of fresh bread and herbs fills the air as they approach.
Standing in the doorway is a woman, her auburn hair catching the light of the lantern above her.
She's beautiful in a quiet, unassuming way, her smile warm and welcoming.
"We have a visitor?" she asks softly and knowingly, like she has been expecting him too, stepping aside to let him in. "Come in, dear. You must be starving."
Her kindness is almost unsettling.
Ace mumbles a quiet thank-you as he steps inside, his eyes darting around the room.
The interior is cozy and inviting, with wooden beams, soft rugs, and shelves lined with old books and trinkets. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the room.
The woman, who introduces herself as Elira, ushers Ace to a seat at the dining table.
She places a plate of steaming stew and fresh bread in front of him, her hands gentle but firm. "Eat. You'll feel better."
Ace hesitates, unsure of how to respond to her warmth. "Thanks," he says awkwardly but still doesn't start eating.
°
Over the next few days, Ace struggles to find his place in Marsel's home.
Elira treats him like family, her kindness unwavering, Marsel remains close too, observant, always watching him with that knowing gaze.
Ace spends his days wandering the forest, trying to make sense of everything Marsel has told him.
At night, he sits by the fire, lost in thought. Every morning, he tells Marsel he's ready, and every morning, Marsel tells him he's not.
The rejection gnaws at him, fueling his frustration and self-doubt.
He begins to wonder if Marsel is toying with him, stringing him along for some unknown purpose.
One night, unable to sleep, Ace sits on the porch, staring up at the stars.
The forest is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. His mind drifts to Kieran, to Xiao Jun, to everything he's lost.
Why is this happening to me? he thinks bitterly. Why can't I just be normal?
But as the night wears on, his anger begins to fade, replaced by a quiet acceptance.
He thinks of Marsel's words, of the power he feels stirring inside him.
He thinks of the Moon Goddess, of the bond with Kieran that once felt like a curse but now feels like a void in his chest.
Maybe Marsel is right, he realizes. Maybe I should stop running from this.
The thought settles over him like a blanket, heavy but comforting. He takes a deep breath, letting the night air fill his lungs.
☆
The next morning, Ace approaches Marsel with a quiet determination in his eyes.
"Okay, now I'm really ready," he says, his voice steady. Hoping that this man won't ruin his day because he knows for sure he has accepted it.
Marsel studies him for a moment, then nods. "Yes," he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Now you are ready. And now we can move to another step."
For the first time in weeks, Ace feels a glimmer of hope.
It's faint, fragile, but it's there.
He knows the road ahead will be hard, but for the first time, he feels like he's standing on solid ground.
Marsel places a hand on Ace's shoulder, his grip firm. "This is only the beginning," he says. "But you've taken the first step. And that's what matters."
Ace nods, his heart steady. For once, he feels a sense of peace.