To Wake a Fallen star

The Moon's Calling

Asteria



The darkness swallowed me little by little, every cell inside me screaming with a dread so sharp it felt carved into my bones. My body was unbearably heavy, and the slow ache curling through my ribs made it feel as though my bones were breaking one by one.

A dim red glow flickered in the distance.

I could hear it speaking to me in a voice too faint to grasp.

Calling. Pulling. Promising me a sweet escape. Relief.

The deeper I moved into that void, the stronger its pull became. Sorrow coiled around my ankles like chains, dragging me toward the crimson shimmer until it was no longer a light at all.

Then I saw it clearly.

My sweet, promising light was the moon itself.

Its bloody glow washed across my skin, heavy and cold, filling my chest with so much grief that I could almost feel my heart slowing. The red shimmer pulsed through the darkness as if feeding on the last threads of my life.

But beneath the hunger, something else lingered.

A song.

Soft and mournful, so hauntingly beautiful, wrapping around my mind like silk. A siren's lullaby. A melody of grief and longing that called me closer and urged me to surrender.

It felt familiar. Warm. Painful.

Almost like coming home.

I reached for it...

A sharp caw split the darkness, slicing through the melody like a blade. The spell shattered like broken glass.

Fear surged through me all at once. I knew I had to wake, had to claw my way back into my body before the darkness claimed what was left of me.

Heat spread at the back of my head, crawling across my skull as I dug my nails into my skin, desperate to feel something real. The world shook around me.

My eyes snapped open.

For a moment, everything was black. Silent. Still. My breath came out in a trembling gasp as the room slowly took shape around me. The familiar scent of wood and tobacco drifted through the air, grounding me inch by inch.

Julian's bedroom.

I could not move.

My joints throbbed. My chest lifted and fell in frantic, shallow breaths. Invisible claws were pressing me into the mattress, pinning me down with a weight I could not fight.

My eyes shifted toward the edge of the bed and froze.

Something was lying beside me.

A shadow. A figure.

A hideous, dark shape hovered over the sheets, close enough that I could feel its breath glide along my ear. Cold. Damp. Inhuman.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and uncontrollable, as the truth settled into my bones.

I could not run. I could not even scream.

Then it moved.

A long, cold tongue slid into my ear, wet and revolting.

The sensation tore through me like electricity, ripping a scream from my lungs as my body finally obeyed me again. I shot upright, gasping and shaking, the sheets clinging to my damp skin.

For several seconds, I only sat there, trembling so hard I could barely breathe, my eyes scanning the darkness for any shape that did not belong.

The room was silent.

Julian lay beside me, breathing evenly. Peacefully. As if nothing in this world or the next could touch him.

Exhaustion washed over me, heavy and inescapable, dragging me back toward the mattress like a tide too strong to resist. My limbs refused to move. My eyelids fell shut.

The darkness swallowed me again.

A violent tug on my hair yanked my head back.

Pain ripped across my scalp as invisible claws gripped my skull. A voice echoed through my mind, shrill and hateful, each word slicing like broken glass.

Do you think you can get away?

I jerked awake again, breathless and shaking from my core, scrambling away from the bed as if fire had consumed it. My feet touched the floor, unsteady, cold, trembling.

For a few moments I stood there in the darkness, clutching my arms, willing my breath to steady. The shadows around me seemed to pulse with the memory of that voice.

I closed my eyes and whispered under my breath, barely audible.

"It wasn't real. It wasn't real."

But deep in my spine, something cold insisted otherwise.

Nausea churned in my stomach. The memory of those claws and that wet, sliding tongue clung to my skin like a stain I couldn't wash away.

I didn't sleep again.

I couldn't.

The rest of the night, I forced myself to stay awake. I cleaned, made coffee, sketched and paced the room. I washed dishes that were already clean, sorted objects that did not need sorting. Anything to keep my body from relaxing. Anything to keep my eyes from closing.

The hours dragged, each one heavier than the last. I felt it behind me, a cold breath ghosting the back of my neck. The floor creaked even when I stood perfectly still. Sometimes a whisper brushed my ear, too quiet to understand, yet full of intent.

By the time dawn broke, the pale morning light felt like salvation.

I opened the window and let the cool morning air spill into the room. Birds sang somewhere beyond the buildings, soft and distant. The first rays of sunlight touched my face, warm and gentle, and I whispered to myself that it was over.

Julian appeared in the doorway, wearing a sleepy smile that softened his long beard and carried a warmth that made the edges of my fear ease, if only for a fleeting moment.

"Morning, my love. I expected to find you curled up next to me." He leaned in to kiss me, but paused as his eyes swept over my face.

"Why do you look like you have lived an entire life before sunrise?" he furrowed his brows. "You didn't sleep, did you?"

"Just a little," I said, forcing a small smile. "I need to work on a painting. I promised myself I would finish it. I thought you could have a quiet morning and come over later."

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his beard.

"You know you can't get rid of me. I'll come over and make sure you still love me."

"I do."

I whispered it against his lips before leaving, letting his warmth linger just long enough to steady me.

Outside, the air smelled of yesterday's rain. Sunlight stretched across the sidewalks, warm and gentle, but unease pressed against my spine like a cold hand.

Something had followed me from that nightmare.

I felt it.

When I reached my apartment, a raven was perched on the window with feathers that swallowed the light, its head tilting as if it had been waiting.

Its eyes glimmered with an unsettling intelligence, holding my gaze just long enough to make my skin prickle.

Could it be the same one?

No, that would be crazy...

Stop it, Asteria! Stop acting like a mad old woman!

The bird shifted slightly, its claws scraping the windowsill in a slow deliberate rhythm, as if tapping out a message meant only for me.

I threw my backpack on the floor, trying to ignore it, and settled in front of the massive canvas.

After a few blank stares, I picked up my brushes and began sliding them over the surface, trying to lose myself in the strokes.

But the frustration came fast. My strokes grew harder, messier. Paint splattered across the floor, colors mixed into chaos.

My head throbbed with memories of the nightmare, the demon's voice, the moon's song.

Every sound in the apartment made me jump.

My hand trembled, my breath came unevenly.

The sharp cry from the window made me snap.

CAW

"Leave me the hell alone! Shoo!" I shouted, waving my arms like a lunatic at the raven.

"Great! Now I'm yelling at birds... So much for trying to be normal..." I sighed to myself.

It watched me calmly, almost amused, before spreading its wings and vanishing into the sky. A few dark feathers spiraled in its wake, drifting down until one landed on the floor near my toes. I stared at it, frozen, unable to explain the strange pull in my chest.

I took a deep breath and sank to the floor, questioning myself.

As my eyes roamed my little studio apartment, I became more aware of my life, or what I had managed to piece together.

Random objects were scattered everywhere.

Books and albums, theater props, curtains, figurines, and tiny statuettes filled the shelves.

Photographs covered the walls, a collection of strangers' faces captured in fleeting moments.

But there were no family photos.

No personal items passed down through generations. No mother's dress, no grandmother's earrings. No grandpa's pipe, no father's guitar.

I just had a collection of train tickets, bottle caps, little trinkets, in a pathetic attempt to fit in some kind of story.

Scraps of other people I'd collected to fill the silence.

Because I remembered nothing.

Only the night they found me barefoot at the edge of town, dirt on my skin, my name written on my arm. Seventeen years old and terrified.

The orphanage.

The failed foster homes.

The running.

The shelters.

The fear.

The constant fight to survive.

I built myself from nothing. Yet something inside me felt unfinished. Unrooted. As if pieces of me were scattered somewhere I could not reach.

My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the phone, and after a deep breath, I was greeted by Julian's suspiciously cheery voice.

"I hope you have not forgotten about me. Because I have a surprise for you."

His warmth should have soothed me.

But the raven's cry still echoed in my bones.

And somewhere deep inside, the moon's song began again.