To me belongeth vengeance, and recompense; Their foot shall slide in due time: For the day of their calamity is at hand, And the things that shall come upon them make haste.

Luna stopped in her tracks and began to look carefully, trying to understand the meaning of the painting that hung on the broad white wall of the art gallery.

It is a dark, classical-style painting set inside a wooden frame with gold trim.

Against a black background, a hand enters from the top and holds a golden balance scale at its center. The scale hangs evenly, with two shallow pans suspended by thin chains.
On the left pan sits a gold crown decorated with small jewels. On the right pan rests a human skull, pale and smooth, facing slightly forward. Both objects are painted in fine detail.

The lighting is focused on the hand, the scale, the crown, and the skull, while the background remains almost completely dark.

Beneath which this verse from the Bible was written.

"Did this one grab your attention?" Malcolm asked, resting both his hands on Luna's shoulders, looking in the same direction as her.

"Do you believe it?" Luna asked, although it wasn't clear whether she was asking Malcolm or herself.

Malcolm's eyes drifted to the quote. "I don't know," he said. "It scares me and relieves me at the same time. How about you?"

"I don't know either, but I would like it if it were true," Luna said.

Malcolm turned her toward him, guiding her shoulders gently. He searched her eyes, trying to read what was on her mind.

"I brought you here thinking you would like it and feel good coming out after such a long time. But somehow, you seem more downcast than before.

"If it doesn't burden you, can you tell me what is really going on in your mind? I want to help, but if I don't know what to help you with, how can I ? You look so sad after yesterday's session. What happened, my love?" he asked gently.

Luna looked at Malcolm and the way he was looking at her. His eyes clearly showed how much he cared. She wanted to tell him everything-every detail she could remember. She opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to utter a word.

It's better if no one knows about us.

Alex's words rang in her ears.

"It's nothing," she whispered.

Malcolm's face fell. He nodded then looked away.

A dull pain settled in his chest knowing , after all this time, he still hadn't earned her trust.

He forced a smile and said, "It's okay. I'll be here if you need me."

He turned and began to walk away, his eyes fixed on the floor. Before the distance between them could grow any wider, Luna reached out and caught his hand.

"Can we go somewhere we can sit and talk?" she asked, her voice barely steady.

The sky was painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple as the birds sang their day's end song. Clouds scattered like cotton candy, reflecting the vibrant colours of the setting sun. The susurrus of the sea rose like a soothing serenade, but the sight that stole Malcolm's breath was Luna beside him.

She squinted her eyes slightly against the warm golden light of the sunset as the cool breeze lifted a stray strand of hair and brushed it across her softly parted lips. It was becoming dangerous for him to keep looking at her. He wasn't sure he would ever come out of the hypnotism if he didn't stop himself.

So, for his own safety, he broke the silence.

"Breathtaking," he murmured. Then, quickly adding, "The sunset, I mean."

"Yes, it is," Luna answered, turning to look at him.

Malcolm slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small black box.

"I wanted to give this to you on your birthday, but we had to come back from Pacheco, and I missed my chance," he said softly. "I tried again on the day of the announcement party, but I failed then too. I don't want to miss it again."

He held the box out to her. "Here. Belated happy birthday."

Anyone could tell it was a custom design-something he had come up with himself.

The pendant held two strong hands, steady and sure, lifting a tiara. The diamonds were delicate, meant to catch the light quietly and effortlessly. Beneath the tiara rested an infinity symbol-a silent vow of constancy, of patience that did not waver.

When he placed it in her hands, Malcolm hoped she would feel what he could never quite say aloud:
Malcolm would be there for his Tiara forever.

Words alone could not express what Luna felt in that moment. She was an author-if anyone understood the power of unspoken words, it was her. She knew the weight they carried, the promises they silently demanded.

If she took the necklace now, she knew she would be binding herself to an invisible chain.

The future stretched before her-vast, demanding, and far greater than the comfort Malcolm was offering. Everything was about to change. And she could not give him the future he dreamed of with her.

It broke her heart.

Yet she could not bring herself to push him away.

As if he had read her thoughts, Malcolm spoke softly.
"It's okay. You don't have to keep any promise. Just keep it with you. If someday you find yourself willing to wear it, then do so. If not... think of it as a memento-given by a fool who couldn't help but fall miserably in love with you."

"Malcolm..." Luna's voice trembled.
"Something really bad happened to me ten years ago. My life... my innocence... my loved ones-everything was taken away from me. Justice was denied. My suffering was dismissed as if it never happened."

Her breath hitched.

"They... they..." Her voice broke. "And my family... what crime did they commit? Why did they deserve it? Why did I deserve it? What was my crime?" Tears streamed down her face. "I was only a girl... my mother... my father..."

She couldn't speak anymore. Tears choked her words.

Malcolm stared at her, confused by the fragments of what she was trying to say.

"What? What are you talking about? Who did this to you?"

But the moment he looked into her eyes, he understood.

His gaze darkened.
"Who are those vermin?" he growled. Rage surged through him, his face flushing red as his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I don't remember their faces," Luna whispered. "I don't know their names."

"How dare they," Malcolm hissed, a deep, dangerous sound rising from his chest.

"I will find them. Even if they are in the depths of hell, I'll drag them back and make them regret the day they were born."

His eyes looked capable of killing with a single glance. He rose to his feet, as if ready to seize them by the neck and bring them before her.

Luna reached out, placing her hand gently over his clenched fist. It was meant to calm him-but it did something more. She saw another side of him.

And for the first time, she felt grateful to be seen by someone who was truly disturbed by her pain.

"I don't remember much," she said softly. "But when I do... I'll tell you."

Malcolm pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a protective embrace.
"I'm so sorry you had to face all this alone," he murmured. He wiped away her tears and rested his chin against the top of her head.

"The only thing I know," Luna added quietly, "is that they were connected to the Brotherhood."

Malcolm gently pulled back to look at her. Confusion clouded his expression.

"But they disbanded decades ago," he said slowly. "They left that world."

"I was their last victim," Luna replied. "After that... they vanished."

Malcolm's hand trembled. Cold sweat broke across his forehead as his heart pounded violently in his chest.

This wasn't possible.
I have to get to the bottom of this, he thought.