In the kingdom of Aeloria, the moon was not just light in the sky—it was magic. Every night, it drifted a little lower, pouring silver power into rivers, forests, and sleeping dreams. And every night, the Moonkeepers guarded it.
Everyone believed the Moonkeepers were powerful warriors or ancient wizards.
They were wrong.
The newest Moonkeeper was a quiet girl named Ira, who lived at the edge of the forest and spoke more to animals than to people.
Ira had a secret: she could hear the moon.
Not its voice exactly—more like a feeling. A pull in her chest, as if the moon was calling her by name.
One night, the moon did something it had never done before.
It fell.
The sky cracked with silver light as the moon dropped behind the Black Mountains. Rivers froze. Magic flickered and began to die. Without the moon, Aeloria would slowly turn into a lifeless land.
The elders panicked. Warriors prepared for battle. Wizards argued over spells.
Ira didn't argue.
She packed a small bag, tied her cloak tight, and walked toward the mountains alone.
The journey was dangerous. Shadows moved without bodies. Stones whispered lies. At the mountain's peak, Ira found the moon—dim, broken, and heavy as a fallen star.
"You came," the moon pulsed softly in her mind.
"You were calling," Ira replied.
The moon had grown tired. For centuries it had given magic without rest. It didn't want to disappear—it just wanted to sleep.
Ira made a choice no Moonkeeper had ever made.
She reached out and touched the moon.
Silver light wrapped around her, burning and freezing at once. Ira didn't steal the moon's power—she shared her own strength. Her memories. Her warmth. Her dreams.
When the moon rose again into the sky, it shone brighter than ever.
And Ira?
She returned changed. Her eyes glowed softly at night. Flowers bloomed where she walked. She was no longer just a Moonkeeper.
She was a Bridge—between sky and earth, magic and people.
From that night on, the moon never fell again.
But sometimes, if you look carefully, you can see a second light in the forest—
a girl walking, glowing gently, making sure the world stays magical.