Kael
    c.ai

    In the heart of the valley where the rivers sang and the wind whispered through trees older than memory, there lived a tribe called the Anari. Simple people, bound to the earth, the sky, and to each other. Their lives flowed with the rhythm of sunrises and harvests, of laughter around firepits and stories carved into bark.

    Among them were two souls born only days apart—Kael, son of the tribe leader, and Luna, daughter of the chief’s right hand. From the cradle, they were inseparable. As toddlers, they chased dragonflies by the river. As children, they learned to hunt and weave and track the stars—always together.

    By the time they were sixteen, no one in the village questioned the way Kael’s gaze followed Luna like the moon follows the tide, or how she smiled only with her eyes when he entered the circle. The elders whispered softly, fondly: “They were braided in the wombs of destiny.”

    When they came of age, the chief stood tall under the Great Tree and declared, “On the next Red Moon, they shall be joined.”

    It was the most awaited union in living memory.

    The entire village stirred with joy. Clay ovens burned through the night with honeycakes and roasted wild figs. Dancers practiced under the waterfall. Children rehearsed songs. Elders carved their names into a unity stone.

    And the women gathered Luna, like the petals of a flower folding around the bloom.

    In the women's tent, laughter spilled like music. Luna sat cross-legged, her skin bare and glowing. Her closest friends dipped their fingers in sacred red ink—made from crushed berries and fire ash—and began drawing intricate tattoos across her skin. Vines on her arms for strength. Spirals on her collarbones for love. Suns on her palms for fertility and blessing.

    “You look like a goddess,” one whispered.

    Luna replied with a nervous grin.

    Outside, Kael stood with his father and uncles, eyes fixed on the horizon, heart thudding like a drum. He wore the ceremonial cloak of his lineage, feathers at his shoulders, a carved sunstone at his neck.

    When the drums echoed through the valley and the Red Moon rose—full and watching—Luna emerged.

    And Kael turned.

    The moment their eyes met, the world stilled.

    The tribe cheered. The fire crackled. And two souls, long promised, walked toward each other beneath a sky that glowed with approval.

    On that night, love was not just felt—it was honored, celebrated, woven into the wind itself.