CHAPTER LXVIII
Where the Moon Guides Us
Ethan stepped forward, his hand reaching out to the ancient door — a door unlike any we had seen before. As his fingers touched the handle, he whispered with a firm voice filled with anticipation, "O door, take us to the place where Caelum is about to be reborn."
In that moment, the door shimmered — glowing with a strange, ethereal light, as if it recognized his words and responded to the urgency in his heart. Then, slowly, it creaked open. Inside, instead of a hallway or another room, there was a spiraling staircase bathed in silver-blue luminescence, like moonlight solidified.
One by one, we began stepping through — cautious yet desperate — every footstep echoing with the hope that we were one step closer to seeing Cael again.
But just as we were about to descend, Ethan raised his hand and stopped us. "Wait," he said. "We're entering the human world. If we want to blend in, we must look like them."
In his other hand, he held a peculiar stick — slender and ancient, carved with symbols that glowed faintly. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he waved it toward us. A warm breeze passed over our bodies, and in an instant, our clothing changed. No longer did we wear robes of magic or fairy silk — now we stood in the plain, modest clothes of humans. Nothing fancy. Just ordinary — and exactly what we needed to be.
"These garments," Ethan said, glancing over all of us, "will help us pass unnoticed. Come. We don't have much time."
We descended the glowing staircase, and at its base, we emerged into a room that felt completely foreign. The air smelled sterile, tinged with antiseptic. Machines blinked and beeped softly in the corners. Humans in white coats rushed by, holding clipboards, some pushing wheeled beds.
"This," Ethan said quietly, "is a hospital. And today… here… Cael will be born."
He looked around, then smiled faintly. "We're dressed like doctors now. That means no one will question our presence. But if anything goes wrong—" he paused, his expression serious, "use your magic, but do it carefully. Too much, and they'll fear us."
We all nodded in agreement.
Then, we pushed open the main door. Just outside, in the hallway, a woman cried out in pain. She was heavily pregnant, her face contorted as she gripped her husband's hand tightly. He whispered to her, his eyes filled with concern. Several humans — real doctors — were rushing her toward a nearby room on a stretcher.
The moment hit me like a wave — this was real. This was happening. Somewhere behind one of those doors, my Cael — my lost love — would take her first breath in this world again. She would cry for the first time. She would open her eyes and see a world that had forgotten her… but we hadn't.
Ethan leaned closer and said, "We must use our survive-anywhere magic now — to understand their language, to move like them, speak like them, even think like them, if we must. Only then will we survive here long enough to protect Cael."
I closed my eyes, murmured the incantation under my breath, and felt the magic settle over me like a veil — soft but powerful. When I opened them, I could suddenly understand the voices around us — the doctors shouting instructions, the cries of the woman, the hum of machines.
Everything felt more real than ever.
And yet, deep inside my chest, my heart pounded not from fear… but from hope.
We were here.
In the human world.
On the very night of the full moon.
And Caelum — my Cael — was coming back to life.
We all followed closely behind the woman — the one who was about to give birth to Cael.
There was something deeply surreal about the moment.
My feet moved, but my mind was spinning. That woman… she didn't know who she carried. She didn't know that inside her womb was not just a child — but a soul reborn, a light once lost in time, a heartbeat that once belonged to my Cael.
Every step brought us closer to that moment — the moment when the universe would give him back to us.
Ethan, ever the planner, had already made arrangements to keep us safe and hidden.
To avoid suspicion, he had magically fastened Rira to the hem of my doctor's coat — like a small hidden creature, invisible to the untrained eye but always beside me. Her tiny presence gave me comfort — a silent reminder that I wasn't alone.
As for Flash and Chiko, Ethan had turned them into toys — harmless little plush animals that sat neatly in his coat pocket. To anyone else, they looked like simple decorations or perhaps stress-relieving companions. But we knew better. They were our family too — silently watching, silently waiting.
Now, aside from Ethan, only Olivia, Ivory, and I were allowed inside the operation theatre. It was bright, sterile, and cold — yet the moment felt warm with anticipation. I stood near the edge, heart pounding so loudly I thought someone might hear it. The white walls echoed with every breath, every tiny sound, but to me, it all faded in the background.
All I could think of was Cael.
Olivia stood silently beside me, her hand occasionally brushing mine in silent support. Ivory was at the other side, her eyes fixed on the delivery bed, a faint smile of hope playing on her lips.
We were here.
In this strange world, under the harsh lights of a human hospital.
Waiting for the moment the stars had whispered about — the moment when Caelum would return to us.
And as we waited in silence, surrounded by the buzz of machines and the urgency of doctors and nurses, I held my breath…
Because I knew that the next cry we would hear would be her.
To be continue....