The sun was setting, painting the sky in warm orange and gold. The water below the old stone bridge reflected the colors like melted fire. A soft breeze stirred the leaves and carried the faint smell of the river.
A boy sat at the edge of the bridge, his legs hanging lazily over the side. He wore a crumpled school shirt, navy blue trousers, and a half-open tie. A bag lay beside him, unzipped, with books and notebooks peeking out. He had a lean frame, messy amber-colored hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb all day, and a tired expression on his face.
He sipped from a juice box, staring at the moving water below. His eyes were calm but distant, like he was thinking about a hundred things and none of them at the same time. Then his phone rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket. The screen said Mom.
He answered. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, sweetheart. How was school today?"
"Same old stuff. Maths class dragged forever, and someone threw paper balls at the teacher again. I took food on time, don't worry."
She chuckled on the other end. "Good. I just called to check in. You sound tired."
"Yeah," he said, looking at the water. "Just needed some air. It's peaceful here."
"You've always liked that bridge."
"Yeah… How's work?"
"Busy. The usual meetings. Your dad's still yelling at people on calls," she said with a laugh. "Did you collect your ID card?"
"Not yet. I'll get it tomorrow."
"Alright. Don't forget to wear your sweater in the morning. The weather's changing."
"Okay, okay. I will. You take care too."
"You too. Love you."
"Love you, Mom."
He hung up. A deep sigh escaped him. He leaned back on his elbows for a second, eyes closed, feeling the breeze.
Then he sat up, stuffed the empty juice box into his bag, and put on his earphones. The wires had black tape near the ends, and one earbud was slightly loose, but they still worked.
Music started playing, loud enough that he nodded his head to the beat. He pulled out his phone again and opened a group chat titled "CS bois".
[You]: Hop on CS tonight at 9?
[Aman]: Sure shit. Hw?
[You]: Mostly done. English is left but meh
[Jay]: Bro I still have 3 chapters of History. I'm crying
[Aman]: Skill issue lol
[You]: Just ctrl+c ctrl+v last year's answers. Works every time
[Jay]: Bruh if I fail again my mom will delete me
[Aman]: Then play one last match before you go extinct
[Jay]: I'm in. But not if we get Dust II again. I'm done with that map
[You]: Can't escape destiny. Dust II is love, Dust II is pain
[Aman]: 9PM sharp. Don't bail or I'll uninstall ur soul
The boy grinned, pocketed the phone, and kept walking with the music playing, vibing to the beat. The streetlights flickered on as the sun dipped lower.
*
Far away, in a place that didn't exist on any map, stood a massive hall. The walls stretched high, covered with dark stone and glowing blue flames in silver brackets. The floor was made of black marble, polished to shine like still water. Tall pillars stood in a circle, holding the ceiling above like silent guards.
In the center of the hall stood a round table, ancient and carved with markings in a language lost to time. Around the table sat seven figures in long cloaks. Each wore a different mask—some shaped like animals, others with symbols etched into them. They said nothing for a while. At the center of the table floated an orb, suspended in the air. Inside it, like a living screen, the image of the boy walking along the bridge played clearly.
One of the figures leaned forward, voice low but serious. "Are you sure about this?"
A woman, sitting across from him, nodded. Her cloak was deep blue, and her mask shimmered slightly in the light. "Absolutely. He has the marks. Just as the prophecy described."
Another figure leaned back, arms crossed. "He looks like a regular school kid."
"Now," the woman said, "destiny has different plans for him"
A third spoke, voice old and scratchy. "The prince of the moon… We've waited years for him."
"There have been mistakes before," someone else muttered. "False signs. False hope."
"Not this time," the woman insisted. "He was born under the moon eclipse, on the exact date. He has the bloodline. I've seen the signs myself."
"He doesn't know anything," the skeptical one said. "He doesn't even know who he is."
"He will," she said firmly. "When the time is right."
They all fell silent again, staring into the orb. The boy was now walking past a tea stall, bobbing his head to his music, texting and smiling.
Another figure finally said, "If this is true… if he really is the one, we can't waste any more time."
"He is the only one who can stop what's coming," the woman replied.
The others nodded, slowly.
Then one by one, they raised their hands into the air. The orb between them glowed brighter, pulsing softly. Blue fire reflected in their masks.
Together, they began to chant in unison.
"Hail the Prince of Moon! Hail the prince of moon! HAIL THE PRICE OF MOON!"
The flames around the room burned higher for a moment, then settled. The orb dimmed back to its normal glow. The boy in the image turned a corner, unaware of any of it.