The night was too quiet.
No waves, no wind, no hum of engines from the docks — only the rhythmic beating of his own heart and the faint shimmer of blue light that danced across the windowpane.
Lian sat up slowly. The light wasn't from the streetlamp outside, nor from the phone lying dead beside his bed. It pulsed, alive, like it wanted him to follow.
He stood, barefoot on the cold floorboards, and opened the window.
The blue radiance drifted back — a single glowing wisp, swirling lazily through the fog like a fragment of moonlight come to life.
Lian felt that same pull again — the same strange gravity that had tugged him toward the bridge on the night of the storm. The feeling wasn't fear anymore. It was familiarity.
Without thinking, he stepped out.
Lunehaven was asleep. The streets glistened with leftover rain. Streetlights flickered weakly as he passed, their light dimming when the wisp floated near.
It led him through narrow alleys and overgrown paths, past the edge of the harbor road and into the hills beyond town — toward the forest.
The Moonforest.
Even from a distance, the trees looked different tonight. Their silhouettes shimmered faintly under the crescent moon, each leaf outlined in silver.
He hesitated at the treeline. Every tale he'd heard about this place came rushing back — people who vanished, lights that danced with no source, voices calling from nowhere.
But the wisp drifted deeper, pausing once as if to wait for him.
Lian exhaled and stepped forward.
The first breath inside the forest was heavy. The air felt thick, not just with moisture but with energy — something vast and ancient. His skin prickled, veins humming in quiet resonance.
The deeper he went, the quieter the modern world became. The sounds of the city faded until even the buzz of his thoughts felt too loud.
Every step echoed softly, though he couldn't tell if it was the ground or something beneath it answering him.
A faint mist rose between the roots, swirling like breath. The blue wisp flickered once — and vanished.
Lian froze. "Wait—"
Then he saw it.
A faint glow traced along the trunk of a nearby tree. Then another. Then another.
Ancient symbols — carved deep into bark, glowing with the same blue that had led him here.
He reached out. The markings pulsed beneath his fingertips, and the light beneath his skin — dormant since the storm — flickered to life in response.
A shiver ran through him. "It's the same…"
He moved from tree to tree, tracing the strange glyphs, each more intricate than the last. They formed a spiral pattern, leading him deeper, toward a faint clearing bathed in moonlight.
The ground sloped downward, opening into a wide glade where the trees gave way to an ancient stone circle.
Rocks stood upright like silent guardians, their surfaces etched with glowing sigils. The light pulsed in rhythm — steady, alive — as if the forest itself were breathing.
At the center stood a monolith, half-buried in moss, carved with runes that matched the ones on his veins.
Lian's chest tightened. He stepped closer.
The air vibrated faintly — not sound, but something deeper, a resonance that made his bones hum. He placed a hand on the monolith.
The moment his skin touched the cold stone, the runes blazed.
Light burst outward in a ring, sweeping through the clearing. The symbols on the stones flared, connecting with beams of pure blue, forming a sigil the size of a house.
The ground trembled. The air bent.
"Wh—what is this?" he gasped, stumbling back.
The answer came not in words, but in sound — a low, melodic hum that rose from the earth itself, echoing through the trees like a chorus of distant voices.
And then, through the shimmering air, shapes began to form.
Three silhouettes — faint, luminous, descending from the light.
At first, he thought they were spirits. But as the radiance dimmed, he saw faces.
Two of them were identical — tall, graceful, with silver hair that cascaded like moonlight. Their eyes glowed faintly, one warm and gentle, the other sharp and cold. They moved in mirrored rhythm, like reflections given form.
The third was different — shorter, with tousled amber hair and eyes that burned with mischief. Her steps were light, almost playful, her smile both knowing and dangerous.
They stepped from the light as the energy circle faded.
Lian took an involuntary step back. "Who… who are you?"
The gentler twin tilted her head. Her voice was soft, melodic, ancient. "You came, just as the Moon called you."
The sharper one's eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps the seal weakened faster than we thought."
He blinked, confused. "Seal? I don't—"
The playful girl laughed, twirling a glowing strand of hair between her fingers. "Oh, he's adorable when confused. Are you sure this is the same immortal heir we were supposed to find?"
The cold twin ignored her. "You shouldn't be awake," she said flatly.
Lian frowned. "You keep saying that. What does it mean? Who are you people?"
The gentler twin took a step forward, her gaze softening. "We are not people, Lian Ardent. We are what remains of the Spirit Courts — the guardians of the lunar veins."
He stared blankly. "The what?"
The amber-haired girl grinned. "In short, we keep the balance between the spirit realms and this messy human world you've been hiding in."
The gentler twin added, "And you… are the bridge that was never meant to reopen."
The words hit him like a pulse of heat. He stumbled back, shaking his head. "No. I'm just a man. I don't even remember my past."
The cold twin's eyes gleamed. "Then allow me to remind you."
She raised her hand. The runes on the monolith blazed again — and visions burst across his mind like fire.
He saw flashes — stars falling into oceans, golden cities crumbling, a figure sitting upon a throne of light. His own face, older, crowned in flame.
The same woman from his dreams — her eyes full of sorrow — whispering his name.
"They sealed you to protect us all."
He gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his head. "Stop! I don't— I can't—"
The gentle twin caught him before he fell, her touch cool as moonlight. "Enough, Luna," she said softly to her sister.
The cold twin — Luna — lowered her hand, though her gaze remained unreadable.
Lian looked up at them, breath trembling. "Why… why are you showing me this?"
"Because," said the amber-haired girl, crouching beside him with a sly smile, "you're not the only one cursed by that blood of yours."
The forest pulsed once more, the moon above dimming slightly as if watching.
Lian stared at the three strangers — three women who seemed both unreal and ancient — and for the first time, he didn't feel alone in his confusion.
Still trembling, he whispered, "What happens now?"
The gentle twin smiled faintly. "Now, you listen. Because your past is waking… and the world you think you know is about to remember you."
The wind stirred, carrying whispers through the glade — faint echoes of names long forgotten.
Luna's eyes glimmered coldly. "And not everyone who remembers you will want you alive."
Cliffhanger: Lian meets the three spirit girls and learns he is the "bridge" — the heir of something sealed away.