The Moon Remember my name

Chapter 2 — The Moonwood Awakens

The first c***k of thunder chased Lyra from the palace. She barely remembered leaving the banquet.

She didn't remember descending the marble steps or hearing the servants calling after her. She didn't remember where she had dropped her cloak. All she knew was that every breath hurt.

Rain lashed against her face as she ran through the empty streets, washing away the tears she refused to wipe. But it couldn't wash away the words. - *You've already chosen me.*

Celeste's voice echoed in her mind.

*I can't keep lying to her.*

Lyra stumbled. For years, she had trusted Rowan with her heart.

For years, she had trusted Celeste with everything else—her secrets.

Her fears. Her dreams.

Tomorrow, she was supposed to become Rowan's wife.

Instead, she had discovered that the two people she trusted most had betrayed her together. A bitter laugh escaped her. - “Congratulations, Lyra.”

Lightning tore across the sky.

“You lost your fiancé and your best friend in the same night.”

She kept running.

Ahead, beyond the city walls, Moonwood Forest waited beneath the storm.

Everyone in the kingdom knew the stories. People who entered after sunset sometimes returned days later with no memory of where they had been. Others never returned at all.

Tonight, Lyra didn't care. Perhaps the forest really would swallow her.

Perhaps disappearing would be easier than going back.

She crossed the ancient stone bridge and entered Moonwood.

The world changed immediately.

The sounds of the kingdom disappeared behind her. No horses.

No voices. No music.

Only rain striking silver leaves. Lyra walked deeper.

The trees grew taller. Their pale trunks seemed to glow beneath each flash of lightning. Tiny lights drifted between the branches like distant stars. Flowers bloomed despite the storm.

The forest didn't feel dead. It felt awake.

Watching. Waiting.

“I'm not afraid of you,” Lyra whispered. Her voice trembled. - “You can't hurt me more than they already have.”

The forest answered with silence. Then her strength finally failed.

She stumbled into a clearing. At its centre stood a colossal tree.

Its trunk was white as polished ivory, and its branches stretched toward the heavens like rivers of silver.

Strangely, not a single raindrop touched its leaves. Lyra collapsed against its roots. - “I don't understand.”

Her voice broke. - “What did I do wrong?” - She covered her face. - “I loved them.”

Her shoulders shook. - “I trusted them.”

She looked up at the branches.“So why wasn't I enough?”

No answer came. She cried until no tears were left. Then, exhausted and humiliated, she pushed herself upright. Her foot slipped.

She fell against the tree. Pain shot through her palm.

A jagged piece of white stone had cut her hand. Blood welled from the wound. One drop fell onto the roots. Then another.

The earth trembled. Lyra froze. Her blood wasn't soaking into the soil.

It was moving.

Silver light spread beneath the bark, following ancient lines hidden beneath centuries of moss. Runes. Hundreds of them. Then thousands.

They spread across the clearing in widening circles. The wind stopped. The rain froze in midair. Even the thunder vanished.

Lyra stared around her. - “What is happening?”

The runes pulsed. Once. Twice.

Then the entire forest answered. Trees bent toward her.

Flowers opened simultaneously. Silver birds burst from the branches.

And somewhere beneath the earth came a sound that made Lyra's blood run cold. A heartbeat.

Slow. Ancient. Powerful. The ground shook. Far below the roots of the forest, something opened its eyes. A voice echoed through the darkness. - “The heir has returned.”

The silver tree erupted with light. Lyra raised an arm to shield her eyes. When the light faded, someone stood before her.

A woman. She appeared to be made of moonlight and stars.

Her long white hair floated around her as though she were underwater. A crown formed from crescent moons rested upon her head, and galaxies seemed to move within her luminous eyes.

Lyra couldn't breathe. The woman looked at her with an expression filled with centuries of sorrow.

She reached toward Lyra's face but stopped just before touching her.

“My child.” - The woman's voice was soft. Almost musical.

A silver tear slipped down her cheek. - “I've waited five hundred years for you.”

Lyra stared at her. - “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. - “I have been called many names.”

The stars around them began to move.

“To mortals, I was the Moon Goddess.” The clearing disappeared.

Lyra suddenly found herself standing in an endless sea of stars.

“There are other names,” the woman continued. - “To your ancestors, I was simply Mother.”

Lyra stepped backwards. - “This isn't possible.”

The goddess's expression saddened. - “It became impossible because someone erased the truth.” - “Who?”

Instead of answering, the goddess raised her hand. The stars shifted.

A kingdom appeared. Towering white crystal spires rose beneath three silver moons. Rivers glowed beneath the night sky.

Children shaped moonlight into birds. Women wove silver threads into shields and flowers. The entire kingdom seemed alive with magic.

Lyra stared. “This…” - Her heart began beating faster. - “I think I know this place.”

The goddess looked at her. - “You should.”

“What is it?”

The answer came softly. - “Lunareth.”

Lyra's breath caught.

The goddess looked directly into her eyes.-“The Kingdom of the Moon Weavers. Your home.”

Lyra shook her head. - “No.”

A little girl, no older than three, appeared in the vision. Her silver-white curls framed her face, and a crescent pendant hung around her neck. She laughed as she chased moonlight butterflies.

Lyra stared at her, feeling a deep recognition. "I know her," she thought.

The goddess smiled sadly. - “You should.”

The little girl turned. Her moon-grey eyes met Lyra's. Lyra's knees weakened.

“That’s…”

The goddess finished the sentence. - “You.”

The vision shattered. And Lyra saw Lunareth burning.

Black fire fell from the sky. Creatures made of shadow poured through the streets.

Warriors fought beneath a sky turning dark. The goddess's voice became heavy. - “The Eclipse War.”

Lyra watched in horror.

“The night your kingdom fell.”

Then she saw a young queen running through a hidden chamber. A baby cried in her arms.

The queen looked terrified.

But she wasn't alone. A wounded knight stood before her. His armour carried the crest of House Ravenshield.

He knelt. – “I swear on my blood,” he said, “I will protect the princess.”

Lyra stared at the child. She was the child

Her mother removed a crescent pendant from her own neck and placed it around the baby's. - “When she turns twenty-five, the Moon Tree will awaken her.”

“And if the darkness finds her first?” the knight asked.

The queen closed her eyes. - “Then let her live as an ordinary girl.”

She kissed her daughter's forehead. - “I would rather lose my kingdom than lose my child.”

The chamber filled with silver light. Ancient runes spiralled around the baby. The queen whispered the final words of the spell.

“By the First Moon, I seal her memories.”

“I seal her bloodline.”

“I seal her magic.”

“Until the Silver Tree calls her home.”

The baby's silver hair slowly darkened. - Her glowing eyes became ordinary. The magic disappeared; Lyra watched, horrified - “What did she do to me?”

The goddess looked at her. - “She hid you.”

“From whom?”

The goddess's expression changed. - “Everyone.”

The vision faded, and Lyra heard her mother’s voice: “Run, my little moon.” Darkness engulfed her, and she realized with dread that she hadn’t stumbled into Moonwood by chance; something had drawn her there.