Aarav Verma didn't belong in this world—not the way others did.
He wasn't stitched into social circles or school cliques. He didn't spend his weekends at malls or parties. Instead, he wandered the edges of the world—where the sky felt heavier, and silence wasn't awkward, but sacred.
He was seventeen, with ink-stained fingers and a habit of getting lost in thoughts so deep, even gravity forgot to pull him back sometimes.
To most, he was just that quiet astronomy kid. Strange, dreamy. A little too obsessed with stars, maps, and stories about gods that fell in love with mortals. Teachers liked him because he turned in essays early. Classmates ignored him because he always looked like he was watching something no one else could see.
But what they didn't know—what no one knew—was that Aarav had dreams.
Not just the kind that flicker behind closed eyes.
Dreams that repeated.Dreams that whispered names he'd never heard but somehow missed.Dreams where the moon bled red and a girl with silver eyes told him he was running out of time.
Every time he woke up, his heart raced like he'd forgotten something important. Something that mattered more than his name.
And so he watched the sky.
Every night.
Waiting for something—someone—to return.
They called him strange.
While the other boys chased goals on muddy fields and the girls whispered behind books, Aarav wandered through libraries and fields, tracing star maps and scribbling in worn notebooks with a compass carved into the cover. He didn't care for likes or reels. He cared for constellations and comets, for stories about lost moons and wandering gods.
The sky had always felt closer than the earth beneath his feet.
That's why he was here, in this forgotten meadow just past the rusted railway crossing—on the one night he'd been waiting for since he was ten years old.The night of the Crimson Eclipse.
Not just any eclipse.A once-in-a-century event where the moon would turn red exactly at midnight, aligning with three specific stars—Vega, Aldebaran, and Sirius—forming a triangle known as the Crown of Selene. Most thought it was a myth.
But Aarav wasn't most.
He laid on his back, an old woolen jacket spread beneath him, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the velvet sky. His notebook was beside him, half-filled with lunar sketches and eclipse calculations. His father's broken pocket watch, long stopped at 12:00, rested on his chest—a strange comfort, though it hadn't ticked in years.
The moon was already halfway veiled in shadow, its light turning dim and bruised.
Aarav whispered, almost to himself, "Don't disappoint me, old friend."
Then came the hush.
Not silence—he was used to that. This was something deeper. Like the universe holding its breath. As if even the grass dared not rustle.
And in that impossible stillness, he saw her.
A flash of white.
At first, he thought it was a patch of moonlight on the hill. But then it moved—barely—and his heart jolted. He stood, brushing off his jeans, and stepped closer.
Lying in the tall grass was a girl.
Barefoot. Dressed in flowing white. Her skin almost luminescent under the bleeding moon. Her body was curled inwards, hands folded as if she were asleep—or waiting. Her long hair spilled around her like ink in water, and something about the way she glowed made him pause.
She wasn't from here.
He didn't mean the town, or even this world. He meant something deeper.
Cautiously, Aarav knelt. "Hey... Are you okay?"
No response.
He leaned in, close enough to hear her breathing. Shallow. Steady. Like she had just fallen from a very far place and hadn't caught up with herself yet.
He reached out—then hesitated.
Her fingers twitched.
Then slowly, too slowly, her eyes opened.
Silver.
Not gray. Not blue. Silver, like starlight frozen in glass. Like memories trapped in time.
"You..." she breathed, as if exhaling a century. "You found me."
Aarav flinched. "I… I found you? What do you mean?"
She blinked, taking him in. "It's you this time. I almost missed you again."
Her voice was strange—poetic, weightless, like a melody he'd forgotten he once loved. She sat up, swaying, and he instinctively caught her arm. Her skin was cold—not dead cold. Moonlight cold.
"I don't understand," he said, pulling back. "Who are you? Are you lost? Hurt?"
She didn't answer. She was looking at the sky.
"It's not time yet," she whispered. "But it's close. It's always closer than we think."
He followed her gaze. The moon was nearly swallowed by the earth's shadow. The stars above shimmered, and he could swear—for one fleeting second—that he saw them rearranging themselves.
"What's your name?" he asked softly.
She turned to him, smiling faintly.
"I am Selene."
The name rang through him like a chime struck underwater. Familiar. Sacred. Wrong and right all at once.
She raised her hand, fingers glowing faintly, and drew a pattern in the air—a three-pointed sigil that sparkled briefly before vanishing. "This is the seal of passage," she said. "When it completes its cycle, I must return. This time, I only have one hundred days."
"One hundred days for what?"
"To learn why you make my soul remember," she said simply. "And to give you a chance to remember me, too."
"You're insane," he whispered.
She looked hurt, but not surprised. "You said that last time too."
Aarav's breath caught.
Last time?
She stood shakily, brushing grass from her dress. "Time doesn't loop. It fractures. Every version of you is just a shard. But you're the real one this time, Aarav."
He stepped back. "How do you know my name?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she reached out—and touched his hand.
The instant her fingers touched his skin—
The moon turned red.The stars froze.The wind stopped.The trees bowed.The world paused.
Even his father's pocket watch—dead for seven years—ticked once.
In that held breath of eternity, Selene smiled.A sad smile. A brave one.
"This is the beginning," she said.