The Moonstone Forgery

By Aria Locke

The Moonstone of Lunaris is more than a relic—it's the heart of an empire, the sacred jewel that ensures peace, power, and prosperity. For centuries, the kingdom has believed in its unbreakable magic. But when Princess Elara discovers a terrifying truth—the Moonstone is a forgery—the foundation of her world begins to crumble.

As unrest stirs in the shadows, whispers of rebellion reach the palace. The people will never accept the truth. Without the Moonstone, Lunaris is vulnerable to war, its enemies ready to strike. Desperate to prevent the kingdom's collapse, Elara must turn to the one person she never expected to trust—Riven, a notorious forger with secrets of his own.

To save her throne, Elara must embark on a dangerous mission to replace the Moonstone before the truth is exposed. But deception has a price, and the deeper she ventures into the world of thieves, illusionists, and double-crossers, the harder it becomes to tell friend from foe. As lies stack upon lies, one question haunts her—can a kingdom built on illusion truly survive?

The game of deception is set. The stakes? A nation's future.

And in the shadows, someone is already watching, waiting for Elara to make her next move.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trucky World Publishing
• Release date: Feb 16, 2025
• ISBN: 9798224160006

Book preview

The Moonstone Forgery

A Kingdom Built on Lies, A Throne Held by Deception.

Aria Locke

Copyright © 2025 by Aria Locke

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

First Edition: February 2025

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 The Flickering Light

Chapter 2 The Vault Unsealed

Chapter 3 The Vanishing Stone

Chapter 4 A Game of Lies

Chapter 5 The Weight of Trust

Chapter 6 Forging the Impossible

Chapter 7 The Iron Market’s Price

Chapter 8 Threads of Deception

Chapter 9 Dravok’s Test

Chapter 10 Echoes of the Past

Chapter 11 Faith on the Edge

Chapter 12 The Spark of Rebellion

Chapter 13 A Kingdom’s Gamble

Chapter 14 The Last Illusion

Chapter 15 The Shadow of Truth

Epilogue The Price of a Lie

​Chapter 1

The Flickering Light

​The Festival of the Moonstone transformed Lunaris into a city of shimmering gold and silver, its streets alight with glowing lanterns crafted in the shapes of celestial creatures. The air thrummed with the rhythmic pulse of drums, layered beneath the laughter of revelers who wove between silk-draped stalls, their faces painted in luminous powders that reflected the light like constellations scattered across the night. Above them, suspended from the towering spires of the Moonspire Palace, the sacred Moonstone gleamed in its full majesty—a beacon of supposed divine protection, an unshakable pillar of Lunaris’ might.

Yet from where Princess Elara stood, poised upon the grand balcony overlooking the festival, it all felt like an illusion. A carefully orchestrated performance designed to maintain the fragile belief that as long as the Moonstone shone, Lunaris would endure.

She gripped the cool marble railing beneath her fingertips, her knuckles whitening as she gazed up at the sacred relic. It glowed with an ethereal pulse, as if breathing in rhythm with the city below. But she had lived within these walls long enough to sense the lie buried beneath the spectacle.

Elara, came a voice behind her, steady and measured.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. Archmaster Veridan had the kind of presence that pressed into a room before he even spoke, his words always deliberate, always poised like a blade resting on the edge of control. The Royal Advisor to the throne, High Mage of the Crescent Order, and the man who had spent her childhood molding her into the ruler she was expected to become.

I suppose you’re here to remind me of my duty, Elara murmured, keeping her eyes on the Moonstone.

A pause. Then, a quiet chuckle. I hardly think you need reminding. You were always the sharpest of my students.

Finally, she turned, letting her gaze settle on the man who had once been her teacher. Veridan’s presence had not diminished with age. Though his beard had turned to silver and faint lines creased his forehead, his pale, sharp eyes remained as piercing as ever. He wore the formal robes of the High Mage, embroidered with ancient runes that caught the lanternlight, yet even beneath all his grandeur, Elara could see it—the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly, a tell of concealed unease.

You’re worried, she noted, tilting her head.

Veridan exhaled, his hands folding into the sleeves of his robes. I am always worried, he admitted. It is a habit I have yet to break.

Elara arched a brow. But tonight, it’s worse than usual.

For a fraction of a second, something flickered across Veridan’s face. A hesitation. Barely there—but she caught it. Then, just as quickly, he composed himself.

You should be preparing for your speech. He shifted the topic with effortless grace, ignoring her observation. Your father expects you to address the people soon.

Elara sighed, dragging her gaze back to the city. And what would he have me say? That the gods still smile upon Lunaris? That as long as the Moonstone burns bright, our kingdom is untouchable? Her lips curled into something almost bitter. Strange, isn’t it? No one has ever seen its power in action, yet they believe it without question.

Veridan did not respond immediately. Instead, he stepped beside her, looking up at the Moonstone as well. His expression remained unreadable.

Belief, he said at last, is the foundation of all power.

Elara frowned, turning fully toward him. Is it?

The older man’s gaze met hers. Would you rather they question it?

The weight of the question settled like a cold stone in her chest. She knew the answer, yet she hated it.

Veridan continued, his voice softer now. There are things in this world that endure not because they are true, but because they must be believed to be true.

Something in her bristled. You speak as if faith and deception are one and the same.

Sometimes, he murmured, they are.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. I used to ask you, when I was young, how the Moonstone’s magic worked, she said. "And you always gave me some lesson about celestial blessings, divine will, and the Veiled Goddess’ favor. But you never answered the question."

A small, knowing smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Because you always asked the wrong one.

Elara narrowed her eyes. Then what is the right question?

Veridan’s gaze flickered to the Moonstone once more. The glowing gem hovered atop the palace’s highest spire, pulsing gently, its light reflected in the polished marble below.

Then, he turned to her. What happens when the belief fades?

For a moment, the sounds of the festival seemed distant. The laughter, the music, the cheers—it all felt like a veil stretched too thin, the weight of it pressing against her ribs.

She did not answer.

And Veridan did not push her to. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before stepping back.

Come, he said, his usual calm tone returning. Your father will be expecting you soon.

Elara hesitated a moment longer before nodding. She followed him away from the balcony, away from the gleaming illusion of power that loomed over the city.

But as she left, her eyes lingered on the Moonstone just once more.

For the first time in her life, she wondered—not if the Moonstone was as powerful as they claimed, but if it had ever been anything more than a beautifully crafted lie.

​————

The grand corridors of the Moonspire Palace stretched like veins through the heart of Lunaris, their polished marble floors gleaming beneath the glow of enchanted lanterns. Silken banners, embroidered with the sigil of the Veiled Goddess, swayed gently in the evening breeze filtering in through open archways. The festival outside continued in full force, the distant hum of celebration threading through the halls. Yet within the palace walls, a different kind of energy stirred—quieter, sharper, filled with whispers that never quite reached the light.

Princess Elara moved with purpose, her ceremonial robes swishing against the cool stone as she made her way toward the council chamber. The encounter with Archmaster Veridan on the balcony still lingered in her mind, his cryptic words gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. What happens when the belief fades? It was not a warning, not quite—but it had not been nothing either. And she had learned long ago that Veridan never spoke without intent.

As she neared the chamber, she caught the murmur of hushed voices behind the heavy wooden doors.

...unstable readings—fainter than before, a male voice said, tinged with unease. If this continues, someone will notice.

A pause. Then Veridan’s voice, calm as ever but with a thread of something beneath it—something taut.

You are not to bring this up again. Am I understood?

Elara slowed, her brows knitting together. The second voice was familiar—Master Arthen, one of the royal scholars tasked with studying the Moonstone’s properties.

Another beat of silence. Then a resigned sigh. Yes, Archmaster.

Footsteps.

Elara barely had time to straighten before the doors swung open. Master Arthen stepped out, clutching a bundle of parchment to his chest. His face was drawn, and the deep furrow between his brows remained even as he spotted her. He hesitated—just a fraction of a second—but it was enough.

Elara arched a brow. Running from something, Master Arthen?

The scholar stiffened. Your Highness. He bowed stiffly, his grip tightening on the parchment. I was merely—

Leaving rather quickly for someone who merely had a routine discussion.

Arthen’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his discomfort evident. He shifted on his feet, eyes darting past her as if seeking an escape. Suspicious.

Elara studied him for a moment before tilting her head toward the corridor. Walk with me.

The scholar blinked. I—of course, Your Highness.

They moved through the palace halls, away from the chamber, away from prying ears. Arthen’s grip on the parchment never loosened, his fingers worrying the edges of the scrolls. Elara let the silence stretch, waiting. People always filled the quiet when it pressed too long against their nerves.

Sure enough, after a few steps, he exhaled sharply.

I shouldn’t be speaking of this, he murmured.

Elara did not look at him. But you will.

A pause. Then—softly, cautiously: The Moonstone.

Her pulse quickened. What about it?