Lunar Haze

Prologue

     Under the cloak of a starless night, the distant howl of the wind whispered secrets only the ancient woods could understand. Among these age-old sentinels, a figure cloaked in darkness moved with purpose, his steps silent on the leaf-strewn path.

Silas stood before the smoldering remains of what once was a grand bonfire, its last wisps of smoke dancing skyward, mingling with the mists that descended upon the clearing. He was alone, yet the weight of unseen eyes pressed upon him, as if the night itself watched his every move.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and a tinge of something else—something primal. It was here, in this secluded haven, that Silas found solace from the clamor of his daily facade as a popular VTuber. Away from the glow of screens and the eyes of countless unseen viewers, he connected with a part of himself that seemed increasingly distant—his true self, buried under lifetimes of forgotten histories.

As he traced the charcoal remnants of the fire with a stick, patterns emerged—symbols of a language he did not know yet felt compelled to draw. Each line sparked a flash of memory: laughter, tears, a kiss stolen under the moonlight, all fading as quickly as they came, like dreams upon waking.

Above, the moon hung low, a silent witness to his solitude. It cast a pale light over the clearing, the shadows of the trees stretching towards Silas like dark fingers. And in that moment, between one heartbeat and the next, he felt it—a pulse in the air, a resonance that stirred the very soul of the woods.

This place, this night, it was all meant to lead him here, to the cusp of revelation. But as the chill of the night seeped into his bones, Silas could not shake the feeling that something—or someone—was waiting just beyond the veil of mist, watching, waiting for the right moment to step forward from the shadows of forgotten lives.