The first time I saw the Second Moon, I was seven.
It wasn't like the paintings in old books—golden and gentle. No. It was silver. Too bright. Too unnatural.
The whole town stood outside, eyes wide, breathless, waiting. Some whispered prayers, some wept. I remember my mother squeezing my hand, her nails digging into my palm. A miracle, she called it.
But I wasn't looking at the sky.
I was looking at him.
A man—standing in the middle of the empty street. Dressed in black, head tilted slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.
He shouldn't have been there.
I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could—
"Eira."
I froze.
The voice didn't come from around me. It came from inside my head. A whisper, curling at the edges of my mind like smoke, pulling me in.
My breath hitched. My pulse pounded against my ribs.
And then—
The world vanished.
No, not the world. I vanished.
For a split second, I felt—nothing. Weightless. Unmade.
And then—
I woke up in a different life.
A different body.
A different century.
They told me I had been given a second chance. A new beginning.
They lied.
Because now, a hundred years later, the Second Moon is rising again. And I can feel it. Something is coming for me.
This time, I refuse to disappear.
The Second Moon is rising.
Music fills the streets. Lanterns sway. People laugh, dance, celebrate—completely unaware. They call this night a blessing. A chance for someone to be "reborn."
I know better.
Because I was the one who vanished last time.
I push through the crowd, my pulse quickening. The air feels heavier. My skin prickles. Something is watching.
A shadow moves at the edge of the square. My breath catches. Not again.
I turn away. Keep walking. Faster. Away from the music, the lights. Away from the lie.
But then—a voice.
"You shouldn't be here."
I freeze.
The street is empty. The night is silent. But I know what I heard.
Slowly, I turn.
A figure stands beneath a streetlight, half-hidden in the dark. A stranger.
But I know that face.
Because the last time the Second Moon rose…
He disappeared too.
The wind howled through the empty streets as I stood frozen, staring at the spot where he had just been. My pulse pounded in my ears.
He was gone. Just like that.
I took a shaky breath and turned in a slow circle, scanning the alley. "Hello?" My voice barely made a sound.
Nothing.
A shiver ran down my spine. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I was just—
A voice whispered behind me.
"You don't have much time."
I spun around, heart slamming into my ribs. He was there again, standing just a few feet away, his face hidden in the shadows.
"W-what?" My voice cracked.
"Run."
The word barely left his lips before he disappeared again—no sound, no trace, just... gone.
I staggered back, my breath coming in short gasps. My hands were trembling. I wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the creeping realization that something was very, very wrong.
Because for the first time in my life, I could feel it—the pull.
The same feeling I had the last time I disappeared.
And this time, I wasn't sure if I could escape it.
The silence after his disappearance was worse than the moment itself.
The world felt too still. The wind had stopped whispering through the trees. Even the night seemed to be holding its breath.
I took a step forward, my heart pounding. "Hello?" My own voice sounded too loud, too alone. He was just here. He had just spoken to me. And now—gone.
I turned, expecting—hoping—to see someone. Anyone. But the streets were empty. No footsteps. No trace. Like he never existed.
Then, the air shifted.
A soft hum—so faint I almost didn't notice. My breath hitched. The sky above rippled, and my eyes were drawn upward.
The Second Moon.
It wasn't just there. It was watching.
Memories rushed back—flashes of lives I shouldn't remember. A name on my lips that wasn't mine. A touch I had long forgotten. A voice whispering a promise.
I clenched my fists. No. Not again.
This time, I refuse to disappear.
The words echoed in her mind, steady and unshaken.
The town would tell her to forget. To move on. That it was how things had always been. But Eira couldn't do that—not again.
She turned back toward the empty space where he had been, her fingers curling into fists. A cold wind swept through the street, carrying the distant hum of voices behind locked doors. No one would speak of this in the morning. No one ever did.
But then—
A sound. Soft. Barely there.
Her breath hitched.
Someone was watching.
She snapped her head toward the alleyway, heart hammering. A figure lingered in the darkness, half-hidden in the shadows.
"Who's there?" Her voice came out sharper than she expected.
Silence.
Eira took a slow step forward, her pulse roaring in her ears. The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. But she could feel it—the weight of their stare.
Then, finally—
"You remember."
The voice was low. Familiar.
Eira froze.
The figure stepped into the moonlight. And her world tilted.
It was him.
The one who had disappeared.
But that was impossible.
Because she had just watched him vanish.