When the moon chose him [English]

They did not know names. Nor faces. Nor truths.
But in the stillness of the night, when the world held its breath and shadows kissed the earth, they dreamed of each other.
Not memories-visions. Whispers from a time that never was, and yet always had been.

The moon knew.

Before their first breath, before claws or fangs or fate, the moon had chosen them. Not as enemies. Not as strangers. But as echoes of the same cosmic longing.
She carved their paths in stardust and silence, weaving two souls into the same silver thread.

Wyra, born of the wild, with the howl of the ancient forest in her blood. Victor, a child of the night, with the storm of centuries caged in his veins.
Different. Divided.
But the moon does not make mistakes.

Each full moon pulled them closer-not just through distance, but through the veil that kept them from truth. Her glow whispered their names in the dark, guiding them like forgotten constellations.

They didn't know who they were yet.
But they knew this:

The moon wanted them together.
And the moon had chose him for her.