Chapter 1: A Princess of Light
They called her Lunara.
She didn't know who they were, those invisible voices that whispered her name whenever she walked barefoot across the smooth surface of the moon. But she liked how it sounded. Soft, like starlight brushing her cheek. Gentle, like the wind she had never truly felt. She was a name spoken in silence, a thought between breaths, a girl made of dreams and silver dust.
Lunara had never known pain.
She had never heard someone scream, never felt a tear sting her skin, never understood what it meant to be cruel. Up here, in her quiet palace of clouds and moonstones, the world was still and kind. Her heart beat with the rhythm of moonlight, slow and steady, filled with wonder. Her eyes—silver with flecks of forgotten galaxies—watched the Earth from afar, wide with longing.
The Moon was her home, but not her origin.
No one knew where she came from. She had arrived one night in a cradle of light, floating through the sky like a comet that had lost its way. The Moon Spirits took her in, raised her with care and wisdom, and wrapped her in stories instead of rules. They told her Earth was not ready for someone like her.
And still, every night, she stared down at it.
From her balcony of quiet mist, she watched the chaos of Earth unfold like a never-ending play. Cities pulsed with light, cars moved like insects, people danced, shouted, laughed, and cried. So much movement. So much life. It made her chest ache with something she didn't understand.
"Why can't I go there?" she asked one quiet evening, her voice echoing against the marble walls.
A Moon Spirit, old and wrapped in silver threads, turned to her. His eyes held centuries. "Because Earth doesn't know how to hold something gentle."
"But I'm not gentle," she argued softly. "I'm curious."
The spirit smiled. "Curiosity is a type of softness. And the world below—it's sharp. It breaks what it doesn't understand."
She didn't believe that. How could something filled with music, festivals, and color be cruel?
That night, she disobeyed.
She walked out into the open air, climbed the edge of the moon's horizon, and stood at the very tip of the light. Her long hair, pale as moonbeams, floated around her face. She raised her hand.
And she wished.
Not the kind of wish that flickers and dies. This one had roots. It pulsed from her heart and spread into the stars, shivering through the galaxy. "Let me see it," she whispered. "Even if it's for just a little while. Let me know what it means to be human."
The moon answered.
A soft wind stirred. A gentle hum filled the air. And then, the light around her bent, folded, and collapsed.
When she opened her eyes again, she was falling.
The ground hit her harder than she expected.
Not physically—her body remained unbroken—but emotionally. It was loud. So loud. Car horns, sirens, shouting. The lights hurt her eyes, the air was heavy, and her skin prickled under the unfamiliar cold. She landed in an alley behind a row of towering buildings, surrounded by overflowing bins and flickering neon signs. She gasped, stumbling against a rusted wall, her breath fogging in front of her.
This was Earth?
She looked down at herself. She wore a plain white dress, one the moon had wrapped her in before she left. Her bare feet pressed against wet pavement. Everything smelled of oil, smoke, and something sour.
A man passed the alley, glanced at her, then looked away as if she were invisible.
She blinked. Back home, no one ever looked away. No one ever ignored.
Was this what it meant to be human?
A small child appeared in the alley moments later. He looked no older than six, thin and sharp-eyed, his clothes torn at the edges. He stared at her with suspicion. "You lost?"
"I'm…" she hesitated. "I don't know."
"You crazy or something?" he asked, chewing on something invisible. "You don't got shoes."
She looked down. "Is that important?"
He rolled his eyes and tossed something at her feet. It was a half-eaten apple. "Don't say I didn't help." Then he ran.
She stood there, staring at the apple like it was a foreign object. Around her, the city continued living, uncaring.
By nightfall, her legs were sore. She walked aimlessly, trying to understand this world. She passed people with wires in their ears, talking to themselves. Others leaned against walls, staring into small glowing screens. Some cried. Some screamed. Some laughed.
So many emotions. So many lives.
A man in a long coat stepped in front of her. "Hey, angel," he grinned, teeth yellow, eyes dark. "You lost?"
She took a step back. Something in his voice made her skin crawl.
He reached for her wrist. "C'mon, let me help you."
"No." Her voice trembled.
He grabbed tighter. "Don't be scared. Pretty girl like you, walking around like that… someone's gonna hurt you."
"I said no!" she shouted, yanking her hand back.
And then—a blur.
A shadow dropped from the rooftop above. Fast, silent, and precise.
The man was on the ground within seconds, groaning and holding his side. A blade had been pressed to his throat and withdrawn so quickly she barely saw it.
The figure stood between them, cloaked in black. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his voice was cold and flat. "Get lost."
The man scrambled away.
Lunara stared, breath caught in her throat. The figure turned toward her. Sharp eyes met hers—dark, stormy, unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here," he said simply.
"I… I don't know where else to go."
He hesitated. "Follow me."
And without another word, he turned and walked away.
She followed.
He took her to a small apartment tucked between two larger buildings. The windows were broken in places, patched with cardboard. The walls were covered in maps, knives, and dusty books. It smelled like metal and rain.
"Sit," he said, nodding to a chair.
She obeyed.
He didn't ask her name. He didn't offer his. He just looked at her with eyes that had seen too much.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. "You're not from here."
"No," she said quietly. "I'm from the moon."
He didn't laugh. He didn't question.
"Of course you are," he said instead.
She blinked. "You believe me?"
"I've seen weirder things," he said, walking over to the kitchen. "Tea?"
She nodded.
He made it in silence.
When he returned, handing her a chipped mug, she asked the question pressing at her chest. "Why did you help me?"
He shrugged. "Because you looked like you didn't know what a lie was. People like you don't last long here."
She looked down. "What's your name?"
"Kael."
"Kael…" she whispered it like a secret. "I'm Lunara."
He looked at her then. Really looked. Like maybe her name mattered.
"I don't know why you came here," he said quietly. "But whatever you're running from, it's not done chasing you."
She didn't answer.
He didn't push.
That night, as the city howled below and the moon peeked through broken glass, Lunara curled into a blanket on his couch. She watched him clean his weapons at the table, methodical and detached.
She didn't know why she trusted him.
Maybe because he hadn't asked for anything.
Maybe because he saw her and didn't flinch.
Maybe because he had shadows in his eyes too.
And so began a story neither of them expected.
A moon princess who wanted to be human.
And an assassin who didn't believe in innocence until her.
To be continued....
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