AELIA REVA
The morning sun spills over the rooftops, painting the town in gold. The air is crisp, carrying the earthy scent of pine and the faint hum of chatter. I walk down the main street with my hood lowered, not to hide myself, but to feel the warmth of the light on my face. For the first time in my life, I am not a shadow passing through this place. I belong here.
The cobblestones feel different under my boots today lighter, as if even the ground knows I walk it as Luna now. My chest is full, warm, a happiness that keeps rising higher with every smile I receive.
"Good morning, Luna!" A baker calls from his stall, flour dusting his hands as he bows his head quickly. His little daughter, barely six, waves at me shyly with a sticky bun in her hand.
"Good morning," I reply with a smile, leaning down slightly to meet the child's eyes. "That bun looks delicious. Don't let your papa steal it."
The girl giggles, hiding behind her father's legs as he chuckles.
