The Moon Princess
By Angelone

PROLOGUE

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As the last echoes of battle faded, the great hall of the fallen fortress lay shrouded in a heavy silence. The remnants of Queen Elowen’s defenders littered the ground—bodies clad in silver armor, their moon sigils tarnished, as if the very light of the goddess had dimmed with their defeat.

King Raymond surveyed the scene, his massive sword still crackling with residual heat. The power he wielded felt both exhilarating and burdensome. Victory came at a cost. Blood soaked the stone floor, a stark reminder of the lives claimed in pursuit of his ambitions.

His soldiers moved among the dead, their expressions a mix of triumph and unease. Whispers of fear rippled through the ranks. “What if she returns?” one soldier asked, glancing nervously at the shadows dancing in the flickering torchlight. “The queen's magic was powerful”

Raymond’s grip tightened around his sword, feeling the heat pulse in response. The air shimmered with lingering energy, remnants of the matriarch's magic. He had expected this—an aftertaste of power that did not fade easily. It felt as if the very essence of the castle was alive, watching, waiting.

Then, as if summoned by their trepidation, a storm gathered outside. Dark clouds roiled overhead, casting an unnatural pall over the fortress. The moon, usually a serene beacon in the night sky, appeared veiled and distant, its light flickering as if it, too, sensed the impending turmoil.

His senses prickled with a familiar energy, electric and wild, as he surveyed the ruined great hall littered with the remnants of battle. The air shimmered, and a palpable tension filled the space, drawing his guards to their knees, heads bowed in reverence.
Before him, the air warped and coalesced into the imposing figure of a man, muscles rippling under a gleaming armor that seemed to absorb the dim light.

“Our lord, God of War Wolen.”

Raymond's heart quickened. Wolen’s presence was overwhelming, an aura of authority that commanded the very stones of the castle. He felt a thrill and a tremor of uncertainty. Was this really Wolen’s true form, or just a reflection of the man he aspired to be?

He lowered his gaze, swallowing the pride swelling in his chest. “God Wolen, I hope you are pleased with our victory tonight.”

“I am.” The god’s voice reverberated like thunder, shaking the dust from the rafters. “But a shadow lingers over your triumph.”

Raymond’s brow furrowed, the unease pooling in his stomach like lead. “What troubles you, my Lord?”

“Look up at the moon,” Wolen commanded, gesturing with a glimmering hand that seemed to twist the air itself.

Raymond followed his gaze, the pale orb glowing defiantly in the night sky, a symbol of the fallen matriarchy. “That cursed moon, a relic of their false power!” He spat the words, bitterness lacing his voice. “I will crush their faith, wipe their goddess from the sky. I can feel the fire coursing through me!”

Wolen's expression darkened, his brow furrowing like a storm gathering on the horizon. “Oh, I know you can. You are a vessel of my might. But do you understand what lies beyond your desires? I sensed your call, felt you redirect a massive body out there—500 kilometers across—to collide with that moon. Do you grasp the magnitude of what you’re about to unleash?”

Raymond’s breath quickened, determination surging like wildfire in his chest. “No more moon! The end of their faith! It will be glorious!” He clenched his fists, a fiery heat radiating from him as if his very resolve could ignite the air. “I refuse to lose my men to an uphill battle! I have a secret that will end this war swiftly.”

Wolen’s visage darkened with concern, but the little man remained resolute, trapped in the grip of his ambition. “Very well, Raymond. If you insist on this disastrous course, gather your men and those you wish to save. They must seek shelter—deep shelter. Caves are your best option.”

A map materialized in the shimmering air, revealing safe zones across the land. “These areas will fare best. The rest will be ravaged—tsunamis crashing ashore, earthquakes trembling the ground until it swallows everything. This world will be irrevocably transformed, forever scarred.”

Raymond’s gaze remained fixed on the map, dismissing the god’s ominous tone. “I will be the cause of this! I can’t wait!” He felt exhilaration, adrenaline coursing through him as he imagined the chaos to come. “That rock is getting closer every second.”

Wolen’s frustration simmered beneath his calm exterior. “That rock is not merely a stone; it is a proto-planet—a small miniature world. But heed my words: if you persist in this folly, prepare for the consequences. Store years of food, ration supplies. Darkness will blanket the land for two years—no sunlight, no growth. Famine will strike. Dust and debris will shroud everything, leaving only desolation.”

The gravity of Wolen’s warnings struck a chord within him, yet it only stoked the flames of his ambition. “I can’t wait to see their faith shattered!” Raymond proclaimed, a manic grin stretching across his face.

Wolen’s frustration deepened. “I almost regret granting you this power, but I understand the rage born of years of suffering and cruelty. Ensure your people reach safety; time is slipping away.” With that, Wolen vanished, leaving Raymond with a fire ignited in his soul and plans to set in motion.

Raymond gathered his generals in the dimly lit meeting room of the newly captured castle, its once-proud walls now stained with the remnants of battle. The bodies of the female soldiers from the matriarchy had been removed, but a lingering stench of rot still clung to the air, a haunting reminder of the violence that had taken place. The soldiers had done their best to clean the hall, but it felt more like a tomb than a throne room.

“Gentlemen,” Raymond began, his voice steady, “now is the time to consolidate our rule and prepare for what is to come.” He unfurled a map on the table, pointing to various regions with a determined finger. “Hugh, you will take your army to this area. Gather those who remain and lead them to the caves. I am designating this land to the sea; it will be uninhabitable. Do you understand?”

Hugh stood and bowed, his armor clanking softly. “Yes, my King.”

“Tankrit,” Raymond continued, his gaze shifting to the man on his right, “you will govern the lower lands to the south. You are granted the title of Duke. Remove the people from those lands and guide them to the mountains; the waves won’t reach them there. Once this is over, a chain of islands will rise where solid ground once lay. They will all be yours, along with the ore in the mountains.”

Tankrit nodded, a mix of pride and concern etched on his face.

“Baldwin,” Raymond said, turning to the last general, “the eastern lands will be yours. Most of that territory will remain unaffected, except for the center. There are caves there; take as many as you can.”

Baldwin raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into his voice. “Sir, don’t you need our soldiers for the final assault on the capital? We must put them down for all time.”

A smirk curled at the corners of Raymond's mouth. “I have my own soldiers now. I no longer require the mass of hundreds of thousands. With my few thousand, I can deal with that mountain fortress myself. Why risk the lives of so many in an uphill battle against a nearly impregnable stronghold? We will start ruling our people now, reorganize our governing structure, and show them who holds power.”

He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Once the moon shatters, the mountain will become an enormous crater, a monument to our strength. Now, I officially announce that the reign of man has begun. It’s time to let the people know.”

As his generals and nobles dispersed to govern the regions he had granted them, Raymond was left with his few thousand troops. The faces of his men reflected uncertainty, doubt creeping into their eyes as they looked up at their king.

Standing tall, an imposing figure cloaked in authority, Raymond surveyed his soldiers. “Oh come on, men! After all I’ve led you through—taking down fortress after fortress, watching city after city fall—do you truly think I would risk everything now?” His voice boomed, infused with conviction. “I have no intention of marching anyone up a mountain to lay siege to a castle. That would be foolish!”

From the shadows, the voice of Wolen, the God above, echoed with bitter amusement. “Oh, you fool,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re far more foolish than you realize. Marching a few hundred thousand in an uphill battle would be less costly than the calamity you plan.”

Raymond caught a glimpse of the doubt in his men’s eyes, but he refused to waver. “Trust in me!” he urged, his voice resonating with unwavering resolve. The heat of his conviction ignited the air around him, casting flickering shadows. “We have fought and conquered together. This time will be no different!”

As his men looked up at him, towering eight feet of solid power and strength, they felt a surge of confidence. With the fiery pillar in his hand blazing fiercely, they knew that nothing could stand in his way. Raymond was a force of nature, capable of marching up the mountain alone if he chose. He had slain thousands with his bare hands, a testament to his prowess and determination.

In the oppressive matriarchy, men were stripped of weapons, forced to craft their tools of war with their minds and the magic they had learned to harness. The queen’s armies were well-armed, their witches wielding terrifying power. Yet, despite the odds stacked against them, Raymond had brought down many of their forces. The trust he inspired in his men was unwavering.

“It is time to surround the mountain and ensure that nothing escapes alive,” he declared, a fierce gleam in his eyes.

**

Queen Elowen sat alone in her chambers, the weight of destiny pressing down on her like an oppressive shroud. All that had transpired had been foretold ages ago, yet she had never wished to bear the crown when the end finally arrived. It was inevitable; the prophecy had decreed it, and now the moment was upon her. With a resigned sigh, she accepted the reality of what was to come.

Clad in regal armor that shimmered in the dim light, she felt the power of her lineage coursing through her. Her ladies-in-waiting and the coven of witches entered, kneeling before her in reverence. “My great Mistress,” they intoned, their voices a blend of respect and fear.

As Elowen raised her arms, a soft glow formed in her palm, illuminating the room. She held the moon between her outstretched hands, its ethereal light casting long shadows on the walls. The head of her coven, a wise woman who had guided her through countless trials, spoke up, urgency threading her words. “What are your orders, Mistress? The army of men has arrived at the foot of the mountain. Their king awaits.”

Elowen's expression hardened, her lips pursed in disdain. “I shall go down to meet him,” she declared, her voice steady, yet laced with skepticism. “Perhaps there is a glimmer of reason to be found in that man. But I doubt it. He is only a man—men know only force and anger, their minds feeble and easily swayed.”

Her gaze flicked to the moon, its light a reminder of her duty. “By the goddess Hera, I must try to save our world from his barbarism, even if it means addressing the weakness I suspect resides within him.”

She mounted her horse, flanked by her personal guard. Their armor and swords shimmered in the moonlight as they descended the winding pathways, passing through the gates and towers of the mountain.

As they approached the towering man, Elowen felt a wave of disbelief. Only a handful of men surrounded him—far fewer than the hundreds of thousands she had expected. Yet she understood the strategic choice in keeping their mass assembled army away; there was little point when they faced such overwhelming odds. The dark look in Raymond’s eyes, filled with burning rage and hatred, confirmed her fears. Like any man, he was driven by fury. Yet, in her wisdom, she recognized that the women had pushed too far, failing to show the kindness and wisdom necessary to maintain balance. In their desperation, they had called forth a demon, unleashing an unstoppable force upon the world. Even their goddess seemed powerless against this unleashed fury.

Her guards held back as she advanced on her horse, steeling herself for the encounter. “Greetings, I am—”

“Silence, woman!” Raymond barked, his voice cutting through the night air. “Do not speak to a man like that, wretch. I will speak.”

She held back her anger, knowing he had likely endured such treatment countless times as a male slave in the matriarchy. Now, with newfound power, he intended to assert it, to make her feel the weight of his dominance. Nodding, she remained silent.

“The age of men has dawned; your reign ends tonight,” he declared, his voice a low growl. “The matriarchy is gone. There are no conditions, no terms. Only destruction. Once the ash falls and the sun returns, we will rebuild in my image.”

“In your anger, you called upon a force of evil and granted power to a demon over the world. His wrath fills you,” Elowen replied, her voice steady.

“You only have yourself to blame for that,” Raymond shot back coldly. “Countless times over the 5,000 years of matriarchal rule, we begged for our slavery to end. You never listened. We wanted freedom, and you refused to grant it. Now, all men are free.”

“There’s nothing I can say here,” she admitted, her resolve faltering. “Nothing I can do to stop what’s coming. All I can say is this: all of this was prophesied. We knew it was coming. But it is not the end. The circle turns; you and your men will enslave the women in return. In a few thousand years, the reign of men will come tumbling down, just as women’s reign has now. That too is prophesied, so be warned. And your heir, born of the line of male kings, will be a son who becomes a woman. He will wear dresses, tights, heels—all the things women wear—and he will revel in it!”

She smirked, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

Raymond stared, uncertainty creeping in. Elowen was probably telling the truth; they had their ways and prophecies. He hoped she was wrong—no male prince would ever do such a thing, would he? But her knowing smirk told him everything he needed to know: she believed it, and now he did, too. Yet such things were in the distant future. Would anyone heed a warning from a prophecy uttered a thousand years ago?
Her smirk widened, reveling in the effect she had on him. That bitch. He was about to wipe that smile off her face. “I have such power you can’t imagine.”

“Yes, a dark power,” she corrected, her tone biting.

He continued, undeterred. “You connect with the living energy of the goddess and the moon, bodies circling the sun up there. But I have tapped into something nearly unlimited. Wolen said it is dark matter. It’s an almost boundless power that fills the cosmos. It can’t be seen, but its effects are felt everywhere, forming all that we see and holding everything in its place. I can feel its power surging through me.”

He reached out, as if grasping the moon in his hand, even though it was 300,000 miles away. He sensed its massiveness and weight within his power. The projectile he had sent into a collision course years ago was nearing. He adjusted its trajectory and increased its speed to nearly 300 miles a second.

Elowen’s eyes widened as she realized what was coming. But even she was unprepared for the violence that followed. Suddenly, the bright moon, once a protective sentinel in the sky and a symbol of their faith, exploded in a cataclysmic flash. It was an eye-smiting burst, the intensity superheating the atmosphere to around a million degrees—a blinding light brighter than the sun at midday.

The night transformed into day as the moon erupted into a million shards, illuminating the landscape in a terrifying brilliance. Massive chunks of lunar debris ripped through the atmosphere, hurtling toward the mountain with devastating force. The ground trembled violently beneath them, and a massive shockwave radiated outward, flattening everything in its path.

Raymond had raised a protective field around them, allowing them to witness the end of the world. As the fireball erupted into the sky, a wave of heat washed over them, and Elowen's heart raced. The reality of her world collapsing hit her with full force.

Now there was little to do but just watch in horror as the world crumbled. She looked defeated as the shock wave raced past them, leaving an enormous mile-deep crater and a charred ground.

The mountain fortress, a once-proud bastion of power, had vanished, obliterated from existence. The great mountain range itself, which had towered above the land for millions of years, now lay reduced to rubble. All that remained were smoldering ruins and an eerie silence. Elowen could feel the very earth quaking beneath her feet as if nature itself was recoiling in horror at the devastation unleashed by Raymond’s terrible power. The moon was a field of rubble falling toward the planet.

Suddenly he ignited his weapon, an enormous flaming sword formed from the power of his mind, and plunged it through her. The last thing she saw was the rage in his eyes and his smirk. But she also saw his doubt. She slumped, it was the end. The final queen of the matriarchy was dead. His victory was complete, now, he was the first king of the age of men. The final fortress was destroyed and nothing but a giant hole in the ground. He rose his fist in the air and shouted, “Wolen, I have done it. “

But there was no response. His god had left him. Now, it was up to him to make his legacy last.