By The Moon's Light

The Hidden pages

Chapter 2 –

(Malikye’s POV)

I stared at the mark on my palm as if it had suddenly appeared there for the first time.

It hadn’t.

The crescent moon had always been there, resting in the center of my right hand like some quiet secret. Growing up, I had assumed it was nothing more than a birthmark—an odd little mark that made people pause when they noticed it. Some called it lucky. Others strange.

But now…

Now it meant something entirely different.

My hand trembled slightly as I lowered it and looked back at the open book resting on the small desk beside the hotel window. Outside, the city was alive with its usual rhythm—cars passing, distant laughter drifting upward from the street below, music echoing faintly from somewhere in the distance.

Yet inside my room, everything felt unnervingly still.

Heavy.

Like the air itself knew something had changed.

I walked back to the desk slowly, my mind racing faster than my feet. The worn book lay open where I had left it, its aged pages yellowed and fragile. Ink curled across the parchment in elegant, precise handwriting.

My gaze fell once again upon the passage that had frozen my heart moments earlier.

"A male child born under the waning crescent. Marked by the moon itself upon the palm of his right hand. This child disappeared shortly after birth and was presumed lost."

Lost.

The word echoed loudly in my mind.

Not dead.

Lost.

I swallowed hard.

My fingers hovered over the page before gently turning it again, scanning every line with growing urgency. My pulse pounded in my ears as I searched for anything—any detail that could explain what I was seeing.

The book clearly documented the children of Damon.

Every one of them.

Their births.

Their mothers.

Their fates.

Some of the entries ended with only a single haunting word.

"Sacrificed."

Others described children who had not survived infancy.

And then there were the three born on the auspicious day.

Ruby.

The girl who had grown into the fierce and resilient woman I had helped guide through her darkest struggles.

Another baby girl—whose life ended when her mother tried to escape.

And the boy.

The missing child.

My throat tightened.

I flipped back a few pages, scanning again more carefully this time.

The handwriting shifted suddenly midway down one page, becoming darker, heavier—as if whoever wrote it had been deeply unsettled.

"The male child marked by the moon has vanished. No body recovered. No trace of the infant or the mother’s accomplice."

Accomplice?

I leaned closer.

The next lines were partially smeared, as if someone had once tried to erase them.

But enough remained to make my stomach twist.

"If the boy lives, he must never be allowed to return to Damon. The mark signifies a power that cannot fall into his hands."

A cold chill crawled down my spine.

Never return to Damon.

I sat slowly in the chair.

My mind struggled to process what I was reading.

It couldn't be possible.

There had to be some mistake.

Some coincidence.

Plenty of people had birthmarks. The moon was a common symbol in many cultures. This could all just be—

My gaze dropped again to my palm.

The crescent mark stared back at me.

Perfectly shaped.

Exactly as described.

My chest tightened.

No.

No, this was absurd.

I had lived my entire life believing I was just another wandering soul in a massive world. I had no memory of any dark warlord or mysterious prophecy.

Just fragments of childhood memories.

An orphanage.

A kind caretaker who used to hum lullabies under her breath.

A sense that I had always been… different.

But not like this.

I shook my head and forced myself to breathe slowly.

"Think, Malikye," I muttered.

My eyes returned to the book.

If this truly was a record of Damon’s children, then whoever wrote it must have known far more than what was written here.

Which meant…

There might be more hidden within its pages.

I ran my fingers along the edges of the paper.

The book itself felt old—far older than it should have been if it truly contained recent records. The leather cover was cracked and worn, and the spine creaked softly whenever I shifted its weight.

But something about it felt… layered.

My brow furrowed.

Carefully, I lifted the book and tilted it slightly toward the window where the fading afternoon sunlight streamed across the pages.

That's when I noticed it.

A faint difference in the paper along the inside spine.

My heartbeat quickened.

Two pages near the center looked slightly thicker than the rest.

I slid a fingernail between them.

The paper resisted at first.

Then slowly separated.

A hidden fold.

My breath caught.

Inside were several pages that had clearly been concealed deliberately. The ink was darker here, written in a far older style than the rest of the book.

I leaned closer, reading the first line.

"This record is sealed for the protection of the Moon-Born Child."

Moon-Born Child.

The words sent a strange ripple through my chest.

The text continued.

"Three children were born beneath the Blood Moon that night."

"One shall guide."

"One shall fall."

"One shall awaken."

My stomach tightened.

My eyes raced over the next lines.

"The Moon-Born Son carries the blessing of the lunar spirits themselves. His power will surpass that of his father if he survives to maturity."

"Should Damon discover the truth of the child’s mark, the boy will either be slain… or used to unlock a power that would plunge the world into endless darkness."

I leaned back in the chair, stunned.

My head spun with the implications.

If this was true…

If the boy in this record was truly me…

Then my entire life had been built on a lie.

A carefully constructed illusion designed to keep me hidden.

Protected.

From Damon.

The name itself stirred something deep in my memory.

Not a clear image.

Just a feeling.

A presence.

Cold.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

I rubbed my temples.

"Impossible," I whispered.

But even as I said the word, doubt crept into my voice.

I returned my attention to the hidden pages.

The final paragraph was written in hurried strokes, as if the writer had been pressed for time.

"If the boy lives, he must one day learn the truth of what he is."

"Only the Moon-Born Son can end Damon’s reign."

My breath caught.

End Damon’s reign?

That suggested Damon was still alive.

But everyone believed Damon had vanished years ago.

His empire collapsed.

His followers scattered.

The world had moved on.

Or at least…

That's what we had all believed.

I stared down at the book.

Something about this felt unfinished.

Incomplete.

My fingers traced the edge of the final hidden page.

That was when I noticed the faintest shimmer of something beneath the ink.

A pattern.

Symbols.

I tilted the page toward the light again.

And suddenly—

The markings shifted.

Not ink.

Magic.

My pulse surged.

Slowly, new words began appearing across the parchment as if written by invisible hands.

A message meant to reveal itself only under the right conditions.

I read the glowing letters in stunned silence.

"When the Moon's Light returns..."

"The lost son will awaken."

"Seek the Silver Temple."

"Only there will the truth be revealed."

The glow faded almost immediately.

The page returned to normal.

As if nothing had happened.

I sat frozen in the chair for several long moments.

The Silver Temple.

I had heard whispers of it before.

A place older than most kingdoms.

A sanctuary dedicated to the lunar spirits.

Some claimed it held ancient magic.

Others believed it was nothing more than a myth.

But if this message was real…

Then someone had expected me to find this book.

Expected me to follow its instructions.

Which meant…

None of this was random.

A sudden knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts.

My head snapped toward the sound.

Three slow knocks.

My heart thudded in my chest.

I hadn't ordered room service.

And I certainly wasn't expecting visitors.

Another knock followed.

Slightly louder.

"Hello?" a voice called from the hallway.

It was a man.

Calm.

Almost pleasant.

But something about the tone made my instincts flare.

I closed the book quickly.

Silence settled over the room.

Then the man spoke again.

"Malikye."

My blood ran cold.

I had never given my name to the book stall owner.

Yet somehow…

Whoever stood outside my door already knew exactly who I was.