The streets of Lunaris shifted before anyone understood why.
By midday, the soldiers had multiplied.
They did not shout. They did not panic the city. They simply moved—quiet, precise, and absolute—placing Moon-sealed notices on walls, doors, and temple gates.
UNNAMED ANOMALY SEARCH INITIATED.
No explanation followed.
Only the symbol of the Eclipse Court burned into ink that shimmered under moonlight.
People read it in silence.
Then avoided each other’s eyes.
She stood among them, unnoticed for a few more seconds than she expected.
Until someone pointed.
“I think… that’s one of them.”
The word didn’t need clarification.
Unnamed.
The air changed instantly.
A soldier turned.
Then another.
Their attention locked onto her like a verdict.
She stepped back slowly. Her heartbeat remained steady, but something inside her tightened—like the world had finally decided she was real enough to be seen… and punished for it.
“I don’t belong to your system,” she said quietly, though no one responded.
Because systems did not listen.
They executed.
At the Eclipse Court, Prince Kael stood at the center of the war chamber.
A map of Lunaris lay before him—marked with moving signals, each representing a potential unnamed target.
But something felt wrong.
Too fast.
Too aggressive.
“This is not observation,” Kael said coldly.
A general bowed his head. “It is prevention, Your Highness. The Moon does not tolerate anomalies.”
Kael’s eyes darkened.
“The Moon hasn’t spoken,” he said.
No one answered that.
Because everyone knew the truth they refused to say aloud:
The Moon’s silence meant something worse than guidance.
It meant attention.
Back in the streets, the soldiers closed in.
And for the first time in her life, the unnamed girl ran.