The rest of that first day passed in a blur of overwhelming normalcy.
After breakfast, Elara had shown Aria around the small cottage—the herb garden out back where she grew medicinal plants, the well where they drew water, the small shed that served as a storage room. It was all so mundane, so ordinary, that Aria almost could have convinced herself the morning's revelations had been some elaborate dream.
Almost.
But the pendant against her chest was a constant reminder, its warmth pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. And every time she looked down at her hands, the moon runes were there, faint now in the daylight but still visible, still wrong in the way they marked her as something other than human.
Other than the human I was, Aria corrected herself. Because I'm still human. Aren't I?
She wasn't sure anymore.
Now, as the sun dipped toward the horizon and painted the sky in shades of orange and gold, Aria sat on a wooden bench in the herb garden, a leather-bound journal in her lap. Elara had given it to her after lunch, along with a simple instruction: "Write down everything you remember, everything you feel. Sometimes putting words to paper helps make sense of the chaos in our minds."
Aria had been staring at the blank first page for the better part of an hour.
Where did she even start? Dear Diary, I died and woke up as the reincarnation of a magical warrior. My hands glow. I see dead people's memories. Send help?
A bitter laugh escaped her. This was insane. All of it.
But Elara's words echoed in her mind: You don't have to be anything right now except yourself. So maybe she didn't need to write about Arielle or magic or moon runes. Maybe she just needed to write about herself.
Aria picked up the quill—an actual quill, because apparently this world hadn't invented pens yet—and dipped it in the small inkwell Elara had provided. Her hand trembled slightly as she touched the tip to paper.
My name is Aria.
Simple. True. A starting point.
I was twenty-six years old when I died. I worked two jobs—waitressing at a diner during the day, bartending at night. I had a studio apartment that was too expensive and a cat named Shadow who probably thinks I abandoned him. I had a sister, Maya, who called me every Sunday without fail. I had student loan debt and a car that barely ran and dreams of someday, maybe, going back to school.
I had a life.
The words blurred as tears welled in her eyes. Aria blinked them back, forcing herself to continue.
Now I'm here. Wherever 'here' is. In a world with magic and monsters and a destiny I never asked for. I'm supposed to be someone named Arielle—someone powerful, someone important. But I don't feel powerful. I feel lost.
I feel afraid.
A gentle breeze rustled through the garden, carrying with it the scent of lavender and something sweeter, almost like honey. Aria closed her eyes, letting the wind wash over her. When she opened them again, the sky had deepened to purple, and the first stars were beginning to appear.
She looked down at the journal, at the words she'd written, and felt something in her chest loosen. Just a little. Just enough.
"Thank you, Elara," she whispered to the empty garden. "This helps."
Dinner was a quiet affair—bread, cheese, and a hearty vegetable soup that tasted better than anything Aria remembered from her old life. They ate by candlelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the cottage walls.
"Tomorrow," Elara said, breaking the comfortable silence, "if you're feeling up to it, I thought we might visit the village. Lunaris is small, but the people are kind. It would do you good to see more of this world than just my cottage."
Aria's first instinct was to refuse. The thought of meeting people, of having to explain herself or answer questions or pretend to be normal when nothing about this situation was normal—it made her want to hide under the covers and never come out.
But she thought of the journal upstairs, of the words she'd written. I feel lost. I feel afraid. Hiding wouldn't change that. Maybe facing the world would.
"Okay," she said softly. "I'd like that."
Elara's smile was warm and approving. "Good. We'll go in the morning, after breakfast. For now, though, you should rest. You've had a long day."
Aria nodded, though she doubted she'd be able to sleep. Her mind was too full, too chaotic. But she helped Elara clean up the dishes, then retreated to her small room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
The pendant had been a constant weight all day, but now, alone in the dimness of her room with only a single candle for light, Aria lifted it from beneath her shirt and studied it. The moonstone glowed softly, as it always did, but there was something different about it now. The light seemed to pulse in a pattern, almost like it was trying to communicate.
"What are you?" Aria whispered, running her thumb over the smooth surface. "What do you want from me?"
The pendant didn't answer, of course. But as she held it, images began to flicker at the edges of her vision—not overwhelming like the vision from that morning, but gentler, more like half-remembered dreams.
A young girl, no more than ten, laughing as she chased fireflies through a moonlit meadow.
The same girl, older now, sitting in a vast library with books piled high around her, her face scrunched in concentration.
A teenager standing before a gathering of robed figures, her hand raised as moonlight coalesced in her palm for the first time.
A young woman in silver robes, her expression solemn as an older man placed the very pendant Aria now held around her neck.
Arielle's life, shown in fragments. Pieces of a story Aria was only beginning to understand.
She set the pendant down on the nightstand and moved to the window, gazing out at the forest beyond. The trees were dark silhouettes against the star-filled sky, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. It was peaceful here. Beautiful, even.
But Aria couldn't shake the feeling that the peace was temporary. That somewhere out there, in the darkness she couldn't see, something was waiting. Watching.
The Shadowborn, whispered a voice in her mind—her voice, but with Arielle's certainty behind it. They're still out there. They're always out there.
A shiver ran down Aria's spine. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the mild night air. She'd seen them in the vision—the twisted, dark creatures that had swarmed the mountain where Arielle made her last stand. Were they still a threat? Was that why the pendant had brought her back?
Too many questions. Not enough answers.
Aria turned away from the window and climbed into bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. The candle flickered on the nightstand, casting strange shadows that seemed almost alive. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.
It didn't.
Instead, her mind raced with everything Elara had told her, everything she'd seen, everything she felt. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
I can't do this, she thought desperately. I'm not strong enough. I'm not—
The pendant flared suddenly, its light filling the room with soft silver radiance. Aria's eyes flew open, her heart pounding. But there was no pain this time, no overwhelming flood of memories. Just warmth, spreading from the pendant through her chest, calming the frantic beating of her heart.
And then, impossibly, she heard a voice. Not out loud, but in her mind—gentle, feminine, achingly familiar though she'd never heard it before.
You are stronger than you know, little sister.
Aria sat bolt upright, scanning the room. "Who—who's there?"
Don't be afraid. I mean you no harm.
The voice was coming from the pendant. Aria stared at it, watching as the light pulsed in time with the words.
"Arielle?" she whispered.
A pause, and then: Not quite. I am what remains of her within the stone. An echo, you might say. A fragment of consciousness preserved by the pendant's magic.
Aria's hands trembled as she reached for the pendant, holding it carefully. "You're... you're her? The real Arielle?"
I was. Now I am simply a memory, a guide if you'll have me. I cannot control you or force you down any path. But I can help you understand, if you're willing to listen.
A thousand questions bubbled up, but Aria forced herself to focus on the most important one. "Why me? Why did the pendant choose me?"
Because you carry what I once had—a soul resonant with lunar magic, a heart capable of great sacrifice, and a will strong enough to face the darkness. You may not see it yet, but it's there. I felt it the moment the pendant found you.
"I'm not a hero," Aria said, her voice breaking. "I'm just... I was just a waitress. I didn't even finish college. I'm nobody."
You're wrong. The voice was firm now, almost scolding. You survived losing everything—your world, your life, everyone you loved. You woke in a strange place with strange powers and chose to face it rather than retreat into madness. That takes courage, Aria. That takes strength.
Aria wanted to argue, to insist that she wasn't brave, that she was terrified every second. But the words stuck in her throat because, deep down, she knew there was truth in what Arielle said. She was scared. But she was still here. Still trying.
"What happened to you?" Aria asked instead. "In that vision I saw—you died. Someone betrayed you. Who was it?"
The light from the pendant dimmed slightly, and when Arielle's voice came again, it was heavy with old pain. I don't know. I wish I did. In my final moments, I felt the poison in my magic, knew someone had sabotaged me. But I never saw their face. That knowledge died with me.
"Then how am I supposed to—"
You'll find the answers I couldn't. You have something I never did—a second chance. The pendant brought you back not just to continue my work, but to finish it. To find the truth and ensure the betrayal doesn't happen again.
Aria's mind reeled. This was too much. Way too much. "I don't even know where to start."
Start by living, Arielle said gently. Learn about this world. Train your magic. Build connections. Trust carefully, but trust nonetheless. The answers will come in time, but you must be ready to face them when they do.
The pendant's light began to fade, and Aria could feel Arielle's presence slipping away. "Wait! Don't go yet. I have so many more questions—"
I'm not truly gone, Aria. I'm always here, within the stone. When you need guidance, reach out. I'll answer if I can. A pause, and then, softer: You're not alone in this. Remember that.
And then the light died completely, leaving Aria in the darkness with only the stars outside her window and the faint glow of the dying candle.
She sat there for a long moment, the pendant clutched in her hand, feeling the last traces of warmth fade from the stone. Arielle was gone—or at least, dormant again. But her words remained, echoing in Aria's mind.
You're not alone.
Slowly, Aria lay back down, the pendant still in her hand. This time, when she closed her eyes, sleep came easier. And for the first time since waking in this strange world, her dreams weren't filled with fear and confusion.
Instead, she dreamed of moonlight.
Morning came with birdsong and the smell of fresh bread baking.
Aria woke feeling more rested than she had any right to, considering everything. The conversation with Arielle—or Arielle's echo, or whatever that had been—felt almost like a dream now, hazy and unreal. But when she looked at the pendant on the nightstand, she knew it had been real.
She wasn't alone. She had help, even if it came from a ghost trapped in a stone.
After dressing in the simple clothes Elara had left for her—a soft tunic and leggings in pale blue, practical and comfortable—Aria made her way downstairs. Elara was already in the kitchen, pulling a loaf of golden-brown bread from the small oven.
"Good morning," Elara said cheerfully. "You look better. Did you sleep well?"
"Better than I expected," Aria admitted. She hesitated, then added, "The pendant... it spoke to me. Last night. Or rather, Arielle did. She's... she's still in there, somehow."
Elara's hands stilled for just a moment before she resumed slicing the bread. "I wondered if that would happen. The pendant has always been more than just a magical artifact. It holds the essence of its bearers, their knowledge and experience. That you can communicate with Arielle already..." She looked up, her expression thoughtful. "That's remarkable. It usually takes weeks, sometimes months, before that connection forms."
"Is it... is it supposed to happen?"
"It's part of what makes you the Moon Remnant," Elara explained, setting a plate of bread and honey in front of Aria. "Each bearer adds to the pendant's legacy, and each new bearer can draw on that accumulated wisdom. You have access to Arielle's memories, her knowledge, even her skills—but they'll need to be unlocked gradually. Your mind and body can only handle so much at once."
Aria absorbed this as she ate. It made a strange kind of sense, and it explained why she'd felt that pull toward the pendant from the very beginning. It recognized her because, in a way, she and Arielle were connected by more than just reincarnation. They were linked by the stone itself.
"Are you still feeling up to visiting the village?" Elara asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Aria took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. I need to start somewhere, right? Might as well be meeting people."
"That's the spirit." Elara smiled. "Lunaris is only a short walk from here. It's market day, so it'll be busy, but that means you'll blend in more easily. No one will pay too much attention to a stranger."
No one except the ones who notice the glowing marks on my hands, Aria thought, but she kept that to herself. She'd figure out how to hide them somehow. Or maybe people here were used to magic users and it wouldn't be strange at all.
She could hope, anyway.
After breakfast, they set out. The forest path was beautiful in the morning light, dappled with sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves. Birds sang overhead, and small creatures rustled in the underbrush. It was peaceful, almost idyllic.
And yet, Aria couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
She glanced around nervously, but saw nothing except trees and shadows. Still, the prickling sensation at the back of her neck persisted.
"Elara," she said quietly, "does anything dangerous live in this forest?"
"Define dangerous," Elara replied, her tone light but her eyes scanning the trees. "There are wild animals, of course—wolves, bears, the occasional mountain cat. But they tend to avoid people. As for magical creatures..." She hesitated. "There haven't been any sightings of Shadowborn in this region for years. The sanctum's wards keep them at bay."
"The sanctum?"
"The Lunar Sanctum. It's about half a day's journey north of here—the temple where Arielle once led the other moon wielders. The wards they maintain protect the surrounding area from dark magic." Elara glanced at her. "We'll visit there soon, once you're more settled. But not today. Today is just about getting you comfortable."
Aria nodded, though the mention of Shadowborn had sent a chill down her spine. She'd seen them in the vision—twisted, hungry things that seemed made of living darkness. The thought of encountering one in real life...
She pushed the fear down. One thing at a time.
The forest eventually gave way to open fields, and soon Aria could see the village of Lunaris spread out before them. It was small, maybe a few hundred buildings at most, clustered around a central square. Smoke rose from chimneys, and even from a distance, she could hear the sounds of life—laughter, conversation, the creak of wagon wheels.
It looked almost medieval, like something out of a fantasy novel. Which, Aria supposed, made sense. This was a fantasy world.
As they entered the village proper, Aria was struck by how normal everything seemed. People went about their business—buying and selling at market stalls, chatting with neighbors, children playing in the streets. A few glanced at her curiously, but no one stared or pointed or acted like she was anything out of the ordinary.
Maybe she really would blend in after all.
"The market is just ahead," Elara said, guiding her toward the central square. "We'll pick up a few supplies, and you can get a feel for the place. If anyone asks, you're my niece visiting from the eastern villages."
"Niece. Got it." Aria could work with that. Simple, believable.
The market was indeed busy, with vendors selling everything from fresh produce to handmade crafts. The colors and sounds were overwhelming after days of just the cottage and forest, but in a good way. It made the world feel real, solid, not just some fever dream she'd stumbled into.
Elara led her from stall to stall, picking up vegetables and herbs while chatting easily with the vendors. Aria stayed close, trying to absorb as much as she could—the currency system (copper, silver, and gold coins), the way people dressed (practical, sturdy clothing in earth tones), the little details that made this world feel lived-in.
They were examining a display of dried herbs when Aria felt it again—that prickling sensation of being watched. She turned slowly, scanning the crowd, and her eyes locked onto a figure standing at the edge of the square.
A man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in dark leather armor. His hair was dark brown, tied back from a face that was all hard angles and stern lines. But it was his eyes that caught her—steel-gray, intense, and fixed directly on her.
He looked familiar. Impossibly, achingly familiar.
Lysander.
The name came to her unbidden, along with a flash of memory—that same face, younger but no less serious, standing beside her on a mountaintop. "Arielle, you're pushing too hard..."
Aria's breath caught. Was this him? The swordbearer from her vision? But how—
The man's eyes widened slightly, as if he'd recognized something in her expression. He took a step forward, and for a moment, Aria thought he might approach. But then someone called out to him—a younger man in similar armor—and he turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
"Aria?" Elara's voice was concerned. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I..." Aria swallowed hard. "There was a man. He looked like... I think I knew him. From before. From Arielle's memories."
Elara followed her gaze, but the man was gone. Her expression grew troubled. "What did he look like?"
"Tall, dark hair, gray eyes. He was wearing armor."
Elara went very still. Then, quietly: "That sounds like Lysander."
Aria's heart skipped. "So it was him. He's real. He's alive."
"Yes." Elara's tone was carefully neutral. "He's... he was Arielle's swordbearer. Her protector. He lives at the sanctum now, though he comes to the village occasionally." She paused. "Did he see you?"
"I think so. He looked right at me, and I swear he... he recognized something."
Elara's expression was unreadable. "That's... that's significant. If Lysander sensed Arielle's presence in you, others might as well. We may need to move up your visit to the sanctum."
"But I'm not ready—"
"You may not have a choice." Elara's voice was gentle but firm. "If word gets out that the Moon Remnant has returned, people will come looking for you. Some with good intentions, some with... less noble purposes. Better you meet them on your own terms."
Aria felt a surge of panic. This was happening too fast. She'd only been here for days. She didn't know anything about this world, about magic, about being whatever she was supposed to be.
But as she looked around the market—at the people going about their lives, unaware of the darkness that Arielle had died fighting—she realized Elara was right. She didn't have the luxury of time. If the Shadowborn were still out there, if the threat was real, then she needed to be ready.
Even if she didn't feel ready at all.
"Okay,"Aria said, surprising herself with the steadiness in her voice. "When do we leave?"
Elara studied her for a long moment, then nodded with what looked like approval. "Tomorrow morning. We'll make the journey to the sanctum together. But tonight..." She squeezed Aria's shoulder gently. "Tonight, we rest. You've had enough shocks for one day."
Aria couldn't argue with that.
As they finished their shopping and began the walk back to the cottage, Aria's mind raced with thoughts of what tomorrow would bring. The Lunar Sanctum. Other moon wielders. And Lysander—the man who had failed to save Arielle, who apparently still lived with that guilt eight years later.
Would he see her as Arielle reborn? Or as someone else entirely?
Would he help her? Or would seeing her just reopen old wounds?
Too many questions. Always too many questions.
But as the sun dipped lower and the shadows grew longer, one thing became clear in Aria's mind: her quiet introduction to this world was over. Tomorrow, everything would change.
And there was no going back.