Moonlight Beneath Arvan

Chapter 1: The Divide Between Us

The city of Arvan was divided, its towering walls seeming to rise not only from stone but from centuries of law and tradition. High atop the hills, the nobles' estates sprawled in elegant gardens and wide courtyards, their walls adorned with grand crests and symbols of power. But at night, those sprawling manors became a cage for those who dared to imagine a world beyond the carefully kept gardens.

Ethan Cael was one such prisoner.

He stood at the window of his room, staring down at the sprawling lower quarters below. From this height, the lanterns in the marketplace glittered like fallen stars, calling to him with a promise of life that was unbound by duty. He could almost hear the laughter and music floating up from the streets as merchants closed their stalls, as neighbors shared drinks, and as families gathered in ways his family never did.

"Ethan," came a voice from the doorway. He turned, finding his younger sister Annabelle watching him, her brow furrowed. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course," Ethan replied, though he hadn't caught a single word.

She sighed, crossing her arms. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."

"That's not true," he said quickly, forcing a smile. But Annabelle knew him better than most, and she only raised an eyebrow in response.

"Liar. You're thinking about going out there again, aren't you?"

Ethan's heart skipped, and he turned back to the window. She knew. Of course she did. Annabelle always seemed to sense when he was up to something.

"You can't keep sneaking into the lower quarters," she said softly. "Father would be furious."

"I know," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "But sometimes... don't you ever want to see what life is like outside these walls?"

"Not if it means risking Father's wrath," she said, moving to stand beside him. She followed his gaze, her eyes tracing the winding streets below. "But you're not like me, are you?"

He didn't respond, only kept watching the glow of the city below. She was right. He wasn't like her. Annabelle loved her life here, her place in the family, and the path that had been set out for her. But Ethan... Ethan wanted something else, something he couldn't quite name.

Finally, she touched his arm, her fingers warm and grounding. "Just be careful. Please."

With a nod, Ethan offered her a reassuring smile. "I promise."

That night, under a cloak that concealed his noble garb, Ethan slipped through a side gate, moving quickly and quietly toward the lower quarters. The cold air was sharp and bracing, and he welcomed it, letting it clear away the remnants of the day's stifling responsibilities.

As he entered the marketplace, he blended into the crowd, the sounds and smells wrapping around him like a warm blanket. Here, no one cared who he was, what title he held, or what family he belonged to. People moved without the rigid postures of the noble district, their voices carrying easily through the night air, filled with humor, frustration, or joy.

Ethan had only been wandering a short time when he noticed the blacksmith's stall at the edge of the square. The forge cast a warm glow, its heat reaching out into the chilly night, and beside it, a young man worked with a hammer, his movements steady and sure. He was lean and strong, his skin bronzed from the firelight, and his hair tousled beneath a light layer of soot.

Ethan stopped, watching as the blacksmith shaped the metal with practiced precision, his gaze fixed on his work, brows knit in concentration.

Suddenly, the man looked up and caught Ethan staring.