It was said there existed a prince—one whose skin was as porcelain-white as the moon and whose eyes shone as brilliantly as the stars. His hand, too, was rumored to bear a miniature satellite. You had never given these whispers much thought.

“Mortal. Come. I need your assistance,” a melodious voice called, breaking through the stillness. Its tone was as soothing as waves lapping gently against the shore. The sound drew you in, as if it had been meant for you alone.

And when you turned, there he stood—Atlas, the Moon Prince himself, his presence both otherworldly and impossibly real.

Without hesitation, you stepped forward, ready to answer his call.