The moment my feet hit the ground outside the house, I knew I was running for my life.
The night was too quiet. Not even the wind stirred. The Second Moon loomed overhead, casting everything in an unnatural silver glow. Shadows stretched long across the empty street, shifting like they were alive.
I didn't stop to think. I ran.
My breath was loud—too loud. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. I needed to get away before they came.
Then— a whisper.
Soft. Almost gentle. But it did not belong to me.
"Eira…"
I froze.
The sound came from behind me.
I turned, but there was no one there. Just my shadow—long and distorted beneath the moonlight.
Then it moved.
Not me. My shadow.
I swear it moved on its own.
Panic surged through me. My chest tightened. I stumbled back, but my foot hit something—a loose stone, a crack in the pavement—I didn't know. I just knew I was falling.
No. Not now.
I hit the ground hard, palms scraping against the rough surface. My breath caught in my throat.
And then I heard them.
Footsteps.
Steady. Unrushed. Coming from the alley ahead.
I wasn't alone anymore.
The footsteps were getting closer.
I scrambled back, hands stinging from the fall. My pulse hammered. My brain screamed at me to run, move, do something—but I couldn't. My body was frozen, locked in place by something I didn't understand.
Then, I saw him.
A figure stepped out from the alley.
Tall. Dressed in black. His face was hidden under the hood of a long coat, but I felt his eyes on me. Watching. Waiting.
Something about him was wrong.
His presence pressed against the air, heavy and suffocating, like the moment before a storm. The hairs on my arms stood up.
He took a step forward.
"Eira."
My name. Again. But this time, it wasn't a whisper. His voice was low, calm—too calm for someone who had been following me.
I forced myself to move, to stand, to do anything but sit there like prey. My legs shook as I pushed myself up.
"Who are you?" My voice came out steadier than I expected. "What do you want?"
The man didn't answer immediately. He just tilted his head, as if he was considering something.
Then he said, "You were supposed to forget."
Forget?
The Second Moon. The vanishing. The cycle.
My chest tightened.
I remembered. And now, someone else knew.
The air around us seemed to hum. The shadows stretched longer. Darker. His? Mine? I didn't know anymore.
He took another step forward.
I took one back.
"Don't run," he said, almost bored. "You know what happens to those who run."
I knew.
But I wasn't planning on stopping either.
I turned.
And I ran.
The street blurred as I ran.
My lungs burned, my legs ached, but I couldn't stop.
Footsteps pounded behind me. Steady. Unrushed. Like he knew I wouldn't get far.
I veered into a narrow alley, heart slamming in my chest. My hands scraped against the rough brick wall as I pushed forward, dodging crates and trash bags. The city felt empty. No people. No voices. Just me. And him.
Was this part of it?
A trick? A trap? Had the Second Moon already decided I wouldn't make it past tonight?
No. No. No.
I skidded around a corner—and nearly collided with someone.
A hand clamped around my arm. I gasped, twisting to break free, but then—
"Shh," a voice whispered. "Stay still."
A girl.
She pulled me into the shadows, pressing a finger to her lips. My pulse thundered in my ears as I tried to get a look at her. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. About my age. But it wasn't her face that made my stomach drop.
It was the scar running across her throat.
A scar I had seen before.
A scar that belonged to someone who should be dead.
"You—" I choked out.
She pressed her hand against my mouth, shaking her head. Then, in a barely audible whisper, she said—
"I remember too."