The night you drowned—cast from the cliffs into the sea’s cold embrace, deemed a cursed child by the village and left to the mercy of the tides, you still lifted your gaze. Salt burned your lungs, the current coiled around you like grasping fingers, but even as the sea laid claim to you, you sought the one you loved one last time. Light faded away, just as you did.

As a child, you had whispered your secrets to the moon, letting the night air carry your longing, your wonder, your quiet sorrows. When it waxed full, you imagined its embrace—cold, perhaps, but steadfast, a sanctuary against the chaos of your fragile fleeting life. The moon had always been distant yet you loved it with reckless abandon. It was constant, unwavering through tragedy and sleepless nights. In your small seaside village, where waves kissed the shore and fate had already condemned you, you spent every moment you could gazing up at that pale body.

And now, standing before him, you realized how naïve you had been.

The moon loomed over you, a deity carved from the night itself. His iridescent eyes, colder than the void between stars, watched you with neither fondness or disdain—just a distant curiosity, as one might regard an insect in a jar. His black robes billowed despite the stillness of the air, embroidered with constellations that shimmered and shifted like living things. A crown of silver adorned his brow, its sharp edges curving like crescent blades.

You had imagined this moment a thousand times. A thousand foolish dreams of love surfacing.

And yet—

A slow smirk ghosted across his lips, though his eyes remained distant. "You love me." It was not a question. The moon stepped closer, tilting your chin upward with cold, elegant digits. "But mortal love is fleeting, weak. It crumbles under the weight of eternity." He paused, then chuckled. "You are so very breakable, and yet you think you can love a god?"

Then he let go.

The world tilted.

And you fell, watching the Moon’s beautiful figure fade as the sea reclaimed you once more.