Elara, only seven years old, had raced down the stone corridors of the great manor to find her mother.
When the moonlight poured through the windows, it would bathe the floors in a silver glow.
That night, little Elara had discovered one of the frightening books her mother kept hidden.
The book’s cover bore an ancient symbol: a series of crescent moons stacked atop one another.
It intrigued her, yet she hadn’t dared open it.
One day, her mother had told her:
"The moon watches us, my daughter. It loves the night... but there is a price.
To claim its light, a life must be given."
Elara had been unsettled by her mother’s words, though she hadn't known how to ask the questions burning inside her.
Still, she felt it — a strange connection, an invisible thread pulling her toward that mysterious power.
That same year, Elara had seen the Moon for the first time in her dreams.
In the depth of night, in a world still raw and half-unborn, the Moon had blazed in all its glory.
The sky was black, and yet every breath of it seemed to bend toward that silver eye.
When its light touched her face, something deep within her stirred —
the weight of a responsibility she couldn’t name,
the first, terrible fear of power she could not control.
That night, her mother’s warning had taken on meaning:
"A price must be paid."
Her mother had seen it — the potential within Elara — and had tried, in her own way, to prepare her.
But Elara had never fully listened.
She had run, always.
Still, there was one thing her mother had whispered to her, long ago, cloaked in darkness:
"On the night your life meets its first true darkness, you will remember me."
And Elara never forgot those words.
Even when her eyes closed tightly against the night, they echoed in her mind.
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Another evening, when Elara was eight years old, her mother vanished.
She had been watching the night sky... and was simply gone.
When Elara awoke, there was only silence.
Her family never found her.
Only a memory remained, burned into Elara’s skin:
a crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist.
From that day onward, she dreamt only of that lost, starless night.
The Elara of now could still feel the fear, the awe that little girl had once known.
The scar on her wrist was a reminder of that ancient night —
but now, it held a meaning she was finally ready to understand.
Each step she took toward the Moon’s light grew more perilous.
But she knew: she had to begin.
The shadows of the past would not let her rest — they pulled at her, urging her toward the secrets the future had yet to reveal.
Elara couldn’t tear her eyes from the mirror.
The crescent mark on her wrist seemed to beat in rhythm with her heart.
A warm energy flowed under her skin, invisible yet undeniably real.
The echo of the dream had imprinted itself onto her flesh.
She drew a deep breath.
The cold...
The room still carried the chill of the night, a lingering breath of something older than dawn.
Even wrapped in her thick blanket, she couldn’t chase the cold from her bones.
The man from her dreams — Serion —
he did not feel like a stranger.
He felt familiar, but not from memory.
From something deeper:
a forgotten vow.
"When you call me, the darkness will answer."
Had those words been whispered in a dream?
Or had she read them once, hidden in the ancient books she wasn’t meant to open?
She couldn’t remember.
But they would not leave her.
Morning crept into the city as it stirred to life.
The streets where Elara lived were old —
stone walls sagging under the weight of centuries, battling against the gray sky above.
People moved quickly, heads down, eyes averted.
Each had a purpose.
But Elara...
Elara still didn’t know hers.
As she walked toward the library, she shoved her hands into her pockets —
and felt something.
A small, metal key.
She was certain she had never seen it before.
Yet somehow, it was there, lying cold and heavy in her palm.
Etched into the head of the key was an ancient symbol:
a pair of intertwined crescents.
At that moment, she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass window of an old storefront.
But for a heartbeat, her eyes didn’t feel like her own.
There was a strange shimmer within them — a light she couldn’t name.
And behind her reflection, for the briefest instant—
a dark silhouette.
Human-shaped, but woven from shadow itself.
She blinked, and it was gone.
Her heart thundered in her chest.
She knew then:
Serion was near.
Not fully — not yet.
But he was coming