The Luna Whom Death Refuse To Take

Rain had been falling over Ashbourne Village since the last light of day, washing the narrow roads into muddy streams and leaving the scent of wet earth hanging in the cool evening air. At the edge of the village stood the Forbidden Forest, an ancient woodland so old that no one could remember when its first tree had taken root. The elders often claimed the forest was older than the Seven Kingdoms themselves, warning children never to wander beneath its shadow after sunset because not every creature that lived among those trees belonged to the world of men. Most people dismissed those stories as nothing more than old legends told to frighten curious children. Life in the village was peaceful, and the greatest concerns of its people were the changing seasons, good harvests, and raising their families. Tonight, however, the uneasy feeling carried by the wind refused to fade. The storm seemed different, heavier somehow, as though the heavens themselves were waiting for something that had not happened in thousands of years. Inside a modest wooden cottage standing at the very edge of the village, none of those strange feelings mattered. Every anxious thought was fixed on the young woman lying upon a small bed as another wave of pain swept through her body. Her fingers tightened around the blanket beneath her while beads of sweat rolled down her forehead despite the cool night air drifting through the half-open window. The elderly midwife beside her had delivered more children than she could remember, and experience had taught her that fear often disappeared the moment a mother heard her baby's first cry. She gently brushed damp strands of hair away from the young woman's face before offering a reassuring smile that had comforted countless mothers over the years. "You're doing wonderfully," she said softly. "Just a little longer. Your baby is almost here." The young woman nodded, drawing in a slow, trembling breath before gathering the last of her strength. Outside, thunder rolled across the dark sky, shaking the windows as lightning flashed behind the curtains. A moment later, a tiny cry filled the room, drowning out the storm beyond the walls. Relief spread across the midwife's face as she carefully lifted the newborn into her arms. Wrapping the little girl in a clean white blanket, she smiled before carrying her toward the exhausted mother. "Congratulations," she whispered. "You have a beautiful daughter." Tears gathered in the young woman's eyes as she accepted the baby into her embrace. For several quiet moments she simply admired the tiny face resting against the blanket, amazed that someone so small could already mean everything to her. The little girl stretched her tiny fingers before opening warm hazel eyes that seemed unusually calm for a newborn, and a faint smile appeared on her mother's face. "My beautiful girl," she murmured, gently kissing the child's forehead. "Welcome to the world." The midwife laughed softly as she looked at the baby's thick raven black hair. "I've never seen a child born with so much hair. She's certainly going to keep you busy." "I don't mind," the young mother replied with a tired smile. "I've waited my whole life to hold her." As the midwife adjusted the blanket around the baby, something caught her attention. A soft silver glow shimmered beneath the folds of white cloth, faint enough to be mistaken for candlelight, yet steady enough to make her pause. Curiosity replaced the smile on her face. Carefully pulling the blanket aside, she stared in silence. Around the baby's tiny neck rested a delicate silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant, its surface glowing with a gentle light that seemed untouched by the flickering candles surrounding the room. The old woman frowned, she had delivered hundreds of children during her lifetime, but never had she seen anything of this sort, it was really strange. Slowly, she reached toward the necklace, intending to remove it before it could scratch the baby's delicate skin. The instant her fingers brushed the silver, a pleasant warmth spread through her hand, neither hot nor painful but strangely comforting, as though the necklace itself possessed a heartbeat. Startled, she drew her hand back. The young mother noticed the sudden change in her expression. "What is it?" The midwife looked from the necklace to the baby and back again, struggling to find the right words. "She... she was born wearing this." The mother blinked in confusion. "Wearing what?" "The necklace." She gently lifted the tiny crescent pendant so the mother could see it clearly. "I didn't put it there, and I'm certain you weren't wearing it." For a long moment, the young woman simply stared at the silver pendant resting against her daughter's chest. "That's impossible," she whispered. "I know," the midwife answered quietly. "Yet here it is." Neither woman noticed that, outside the cottage, the storm had suddenly grown silent. The rain no longer struck the roof, the branches beyond the windows had stopped moving, and even the wind that had howled across the village only moments before had disappeared without warning. An unnatural stillness settled over everything, so complete that it felt as though the world itself had stopped breathing. The elderly midwife frowned and slowly turned toward the window, raindrops hung motionless in the air, the tree no longer swayed, the smoke rising from the fireplace had frozen halfway to the ceiling. A cold chill crept down her spine, someone else was in the room. She turned toward the door, her heartbeat quickening as a man dressed entirely in black stood silently in the corner where no one had been standing only a moment ago. No door had opened, no footsteps had echoed across the wooden floor, and yet he was there, as calm and unmoving as though he had always belonged to the silence surrounding him. His long black hair rested neatly over his shoulders, and his pale face carried neither warmth nor cruelty. What unsettled her most were his silver eyes. They were ancient beyond imagination, holding the quiet stillness of endless time itself. He said nothing, he looked at no one, his gaze rested just only on the sleeping child. The young mother's arms tightened instinctively around her daughter as the stranger came to a stop beside the bed. Fear settled heavily in her chest, yet beneath that fear was something she couldn't explain. The man before her carried no weapon, nor did he look at either of the women in the room. His silver eyes never left the sleeping child, studying her with a quiet intensity that felt older than time itself. It was as though he had waited countless ages for this single moment, and now that it had finally arrived, even he did not know what to do. The elderly midwife forced herself to stand despite the trembling in her legs. She had spent her entire life delivering children into the world and comforting frightened mothers, but nothing in all her years had prepared her for the man standing before her. Every instinct urged her to run, yet another part of her whispered that escaping him was impossible. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The stranger offered no answer. His expression remained calm, untouched by fear, anger, or pity, while the silence surrounding him grew so heavy that it almost seemed alive. Without warning, a gentle silver light began filling the cottage, slipping through the walls as though they no longer existed. The warm glow of the candles faded before a softer, purer radiance that carried neither heat nor shadow. It reminded the young mother of moonlight dancing across a quiet lake, beautiful enough to steal her breath, yet powerful enough to make her lower her eyes. A graceful woman stepped from that light, her white robes flowing around her like mist beneath a full moon. Long silver hair rested against her back, and a crown shaped from moonstone shimmered above her brow. She possessed a beauty unlike anything found in the mortal world, but it was the sadness in her eyes that captured every heart in the room. She did not look like someone who had come to celebrate a birth. She looked like someone preparing to mourn. The stranger inclined his head in silent respect, acknowledging her presence without speaking a single word. The young mother looked from the mysterious woman to the man dressed in black, unable to understand what she was witnessing. Neither of them belonged in her small cottage, yet both carried an authority that made the room itself feel insignificant. The silver haired woman slowly approached the bed until she stood beside the sleeping child. For a long while she simply watched the little girl, her gaze filled with emotions too deep to describe, before quietly reaching out to brush a finger across the baby's tiny cheek. "So this is the child the prophecy spoke of," she murmured, her voice carrying both wonder and sorrow. The young mother frowned in confusion. "What prophecy? Who are you?" The beautiful woman looked at her, and although she smiled, the sadness in her eyes remained. "I am the one your people have worshipped since the first wolf walked beneath the moon." The midwife gasped softly as realization struck her. "The Moon Goddess..." The room fell silent once more. The Moon Goddess turned back toward the child, her expression growing solemn as though the weight of countless centuries rested upon her shoulders. "I searched every future I could see, hoping there would be another path," she said quietly. "I wished with all my heart that the prophecy was wrong, but every vision ended the same way. If this child is allowed to live, the fate of Lunareth will change forever." The young mother's face drained of colour as she held her daughter closer. "She's only a baby," she pleaded. "She hasn't hurt anyone." "I know," the Moon Goddess answered softly, and the pain in her voice made it clear that those words wounded her more than anyone else. "That is what makes this so cruel." She lifted her gaze to the silent man standing beside her. "You know why we are here." He gave a slow nod. "The law has never changed," she continued. "When a life threatens the balance of creation, it must be taken before destiny awakens." The stranger remained motionless. For the first time since entering the cottage, uncertainty flickered across his otherwise unreadable face. His silver eyes returned to the sleeping child, who had somehow remained peaceful through everything that had happened, her tiny fingers wrapped around the edge of her blanket as though she trusted the world completely. The Moon Goddess watched him in silence before speaking once more. "Carry out your duty." Several heartbeats passed without either of them moving. The silence stretched between them until even the storm outside seemed to wait for his answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and steady, carrying the quiet authority of a being who had witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations. "I cannot." The Moon Goddess stared at him in disbelief. "You have never refused before." "I know." "You understand what will happen if she lives." "I do." "The prophecy will begin, kingdoms will bleed, ancient powers will awaken, and the world we fought to protect may never be the same again." His gaze never left the child. "I have guided souls since the beginning of time," he said quietly. "I have watched kings fall, empires disappear, and stars fade into darkness, yet never have I looked upon an innocent life and believed its death was the only answer." The Moon Goddess closed her eyes for a moment, her sorrow deepening. "Then you have chosen." "I have." "You understand the price of defying the oldest law in existence." Without hesitation, he met her eyes. "I accept it." At that very instant, the earth trembled beneath the cottage. Far beyond the peaceful village, beneath the forgotten ruins of the Nightfall Kingdom, a single c***k spread across an ancient prison that had remained unbroken for thousands of years. Hidden within the endless darkness, a pair of crimson eyes slowly opened, and a cold smile appeared on the face of the prisoner who had waited centuries for this moment. "The wheel of destiny has begun to turn again," he said, his voice echoing through the ruins like a curse carried on the wind.