The wind came first.Not the soft kind that teased at the sea, but the kind that roared — full of teeth, dragging the scent of lightning behind it.
By dusk, Lunehaven had turned gray. The ocean frothed with rage, waves slamming against the cliffside like fists. The people ran to shutter their homes, dragging boats to safety, praying the storm would pass as it always did.
But this storm wasn't ordinary.It had memory.
Lian felt it before it broke.
He was fixing the diner's leaking roof when the first crack split the sky. A pulse traveled through him, deep and electric, like something inside the storm recognized him.
His hand tightened on the hammer. The metal sparked faintly gold.
He dropped it, startled. "What—"
Another flash — and the world turned white.
Thunder slammed through the town, rattling windows and hearts alike. People screamed below. Somewhere, a bell began to ring — not from a church, but from the harbor, warning that the sea had breached its barrier.
Lian climbed down, heart pounding. Rain came in sheets, the streets already running like rivers.
He moved without thinking. Through alleys, past shuttered doors, his boots splashing through rising water. He didn't know where he was going — only that something was calling him again.
By the time he reached the river bridge, chaos had swallowed the town.
The wooden span groaned under the pressure of waves battering its base. The river had overflowed, carrying logs and debris like weapons. And in the middle of it all — a small figure clung to the railing, crying.
A child.
Lian's stomach dropped.
Without hesitation, he ran.
"Wait!" someone shouted behind him — Mara's voice, faint under the storm's roar — but he didn't stop. The bridge shook violently beneath him, planks snapping underfoot.
"Hold on!" he yelled, fighting against the wind. The child's wide eyes met his, full of terror.
Lightning split the sky again, striking the hill nearby. The world flashed silver.
The bridge gave a warning groan — wood splintering, ropes fraying — and then part of it tore free.
Lian dove forward, grabbing the child just as the section behind them collapsed into the river. The force nearly pulled them both down. His arm screamed in pain as he clung to the remaining post.
"Don't look down," he said, though his own voice was barely steady.
The storm howled. Water surged up, trying to drag them away.
And then — the post snapped.
For one heartbeat, they were falling.
Time slowed.
Rain hung in the air like frozen glass.The thunder faded to silence.And Lian felt it again — the hum beneath his ribs, deep and alive.
It wasn't fear that filled him. It was memory.
Flashes — a burning palace, silver skies, a woman's hand reaching out to him.
"Your veins carry eternity."
The words echoed through him like lightning itself.
And then the light came.
Golden fire burst from his palm, wrapping around them in a shield of shimmering energy. The collapsing bridge froze midair, splinters suspended like dust. Water struck the barrier and split apart harmlessly, spraying into mist.
The world seemed to bend around them — the rain curving away, the roar of the storm muffled to a deep hum.
Lian stood, breathing hard, the child clinging to his chest.
He looked down at his arm — his veins were glowing, burning beneath his skin like liquid sunlight.
The sight was both beautiful and terrifying.
The storm itself seemed to hesitate, lightning hanging in the clouds, thunder caught in its throat.
For a single, impossible moment, everything was still.
Then the bridge's far end cracked again, and the world snapped back into motion.
Lian moved. He ran — faster than he should've been able to, each step bursting faint light underfoot. The barrier held around them until they reached solid ground, then vanished as suddenly as it came.
The child sobbed into his coat, unhurt.
Lian knelt, setting them down gently. "You're safe now," he said, though his voice trembled.
People rushed forward — townsfolk, drenched and shouting. A man pulled the child into his arms. Another woman pointed at Lian, eyes wide.
"Did you see that?!"
"The light—"
"He—he stopped the storm!"
Phones were raised, cameras blinking through the rain. The storm still raged above, but now it had an audience — hundreds of human eyes fixed on the boy who glowed.
Lian staggered back. His body felt heavy, his heartbeat echoing unnaturally loud. The veins in his arms still blazed gold.
He tried to hide them beneath his sleeves, but the light burned through the fabric.
"Stop filming," someone said. "He's hurt!"
But they didn't.They couldn't.
To them, he was a miracle.To him, he was a question that suddenly demanded an answer.
A wave of dizziness hit him. The light began to fade, leaving streaks of gold fading into his skin. His knees buckled, and the world blurred.
He heard voices — distant, overlapping.
"Who is he?""Did you see that?""Was that… magic?"
And under those mortal murmurs, another sound — faint but clear.
"So, the storm remembers its child after all."
He turned, but saw only rain.
The voice came again, inside his mind this time — low, melodic, unmistakably familiar.
"You've woken the sky, Lian. Now they will come for you."
A flash of silver moved in the distance — not lightning this time, but something alive, watching from the treeline.
His breath caught. The same pull from the Moonforest throbbed in his veins.
"Come back to the forest," the voice whispered. "Before it's too late."
And then the light inside him went out.
He awoke hours later in a hospital bed, the storm gone, replaced by the cold clarity of morning.
A nurse stood near the door, whispering urgently to a man in uniform.
"…yes, it was him. The one they're calling the 'Moon Miracle.'"
The man frowned. "Keep him under observation. We've sent footage to the city. If this isn't fake, we'll have scientists coming down by tomorrow."
The nurse nodded, glancing nervously toward Lian. "He doesn't look dangerous."
"Dangerous or not," the man replied, "the world saw him do something impossible."
The words struck harder than the storm had.
The world saw.
He sat up slowly, his body still trembling. The IV line tugged at his arm, and for an instant, faint gold glimmered beneath the bandages.
Lian pulled his hand free and stared at it in the pale hospital light.
"Why me?" he whispered. "What am I turning into?"
Outside, the sun broke through the clouds for the first time in days. But over the forest beyond the cliffs, the mist still shimmered — silver and waiting.
And in its depths, unseen by human eyes, a figure cloaked in moonlight watched the town below.
Her voice was barely a breath.
"The heir has revealed himself."
Lightning flashed once more across a perfectly clear sky — not from the storm, but from something older remembering its name.
Cliffhanger: Lian's miracle becomes public — the world begins to notice the impossible.