MOONLIGHT BETWEEN WORLDS

The awareness

The silence after her confession felt heavier than anything Lila had ever carried. Her words lingered in the air, fragile and exposed, as though they could shatter if touched the wrong way.

Her mother was the first to move. She drew Lila closer, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. The embrace was warm, protective, but it trembled slightly, and Lila felt it. Fear did not disappear when love was present. Sometimes it grew stronger.

Her father remained standing, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he finally looked up, his eyes were darker than she remembered, as if something long buried had been disturbed.

“We hoped,” he said quietly, “that this would never happen.”

Lila stiffened. “Happen,” she repeated. “You make it sound like you expected this.”

Her mother’s grip tightened. “Not expected,” she said softly. “Feared.”

Lila pulled back just enough to see their faces. “You know something,” she said. It was not a question.

Her father exhaled slowly, like a man bracing himself. “The forest has never been just a forest,” he said. “Not here. Not for families like ours.”

Lila’s heart began to pound. “What does that mean.”

Her parents exchanged a look filled with hesitation, the kind that comes from deciding whether truth will protect or destroy.

“There are stories passed down,” her mother said. “Warnings, really. About the moon. About certain people who are touched by it in ways that do not fade with time.”

Lila felt a chill crawl up her spine. “You never told me.”

“We thought we could keep you safe by keeping you unaware,” her father said. “We thought distance would be enough.”

“But I was already marked,” Lila whispered, the realization settling heavily inside her.

Her mother nodded, tears filling her eyes. “The night the full moon fell on you as a child. You were outside longer than you should have been. When we found you, you were staring at the sky like it was speaking to you.”

Lila’s breath caught. The memory flickered in her mind, faint but unmistakable. The cold silver light. The feeling of being seen.

“Some people are changed by the moon,” her father continued. “Most never know it. But a few feel the pull. And when they near a certain age, the world begins to answer them back.”

Lila’s hands began to shake. “That’s why the dreams started. That’s why I feel like I’m losing myself.”

“You are not losing yourself,” her mother said quickly. “But you are standing at the edge of something dangerous.”

Lila swallowed. “The wolf.”

Her father nodded once. “Guardians exist,” he said. “Or so the stories claim. Creatures bound to the Veil between worlds. Protectors, sometimes. Hunters, other times.”

Lila’s pulse thundered in her ears. “And the other howl.”

Her parents fell silent again, and this time the quiet felt like a warning.

“There are those who do not protect,” her mother said at last. “Those who seek what the moon touches.”

Lila closed her eyes. Every strange sensation, every dream, every whisper suddenly made sense in a way that terrified her.

“So what happens now,” she asked.

Her father stepped closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Now we keep you close. We keep you inside when the moon rises. And we pray that whatever has noticed you does not come any nearer.”

But even as he said it, Lila knew the truth.

Something had already noticed her.

And it was not done.