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Chapter 4 - The Crescent That Remembers

The moonlight still clung to the necklace like it hadn't let go of her yet.

I sat on my bed for hours, holding that crescent-shaped pendant between my fingers. It pulsed faintly with warmth—like it had soaked up her presence and refused to let it go.

Even though she had vanished from the rooftop like a dream erased before dawn, this pendant remained. Proof that she was real. Proof that I wasn't losing my mind.

Or maybe… that I was losing it in the most beautiful way.

I didn't go to school the next morning.

I couldn't.

It felt like if I stepped into the sunlight, everything about last night would vanish from my head. Her voice. Her eyes. The sadness that wrapped around her like a veil. That name she refused to say. And the way she told me I wasn't him—**but I might become him again**.

What did that mean?

Who was *he*?

Why did her words feel like they were scratching the walls of something buried deep inside my chest?

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Same messy black hair. Same tired eyes. Same lonely silence.

But the boy staring back felt… unfamiliar.

Like he'd started to shift.

---

I didn't eat lunch. I didn't check my phone. I just sat in the corner of my room with the pendant wrapped around my fingers like a thread I was terrified of letting go.

Sometime after sunset, the city lights flickered to life. A breeze swept through my half-open window, carrying the scent of midnight cherry blossoms again. Impossible. The trees around my neighborhood weren't even blooming this season.

Unless… she was near.

I stood up like something had tugged on my chest. My heart thudded in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with recognition.

I didn't know where I was going.

But my body moved anyway.

---

The city was quiet. A different kind of quiet.

The kind that fills empty streets with the sound of your own footsteps. Where every shadow feels deeper than it should, and every streetlamp flickers just enough to feel out of sync with the real world.

I wandered toward the old park on the edge of the river. The place where the world always felt like it paused—just enough to let you catch your breath.

And there she was.

Beneath the same tree from that first night. The same full moon above her. The petals falling in slow motion around her as if time was too enamored to move too fast.

She didn't look surprised to see me.

"I hoped you'd remember," she said softly, still gazing up at the sky.

"I didn't remember," I admitted. "I just… felt it."

She smiled a little, her eyes lowering to meet mine. "That's enough."

I stepped closer. This time, there was no fear in my chest. Only questions burning louder than my heartbeat.

"Who are you really?"

"Someone who was left behind."

"By who?"

"…By someone who broke the sky to keep me alive."

I stopped.

"…That doesn't make sense."

She turned fully now, moonlight painting her skin with a soft glow. Her white dress shimmered like dew. Her hair floated around her as if gravity was only optional in her presence.

"I never said this world made sense," she whispered. "Especially not for people like me. Or… like you."

I swallowed hard. "You said I carry a piece of him. The one who saved you?"

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Yes. His soul was fractured to rewrite fate. The echoes found different bodies, scattered across lifetimes. Some were erased. Some faded. But one survived… barely."

She stepped closer. Each movement was soft, like walking through a dream you weren't ready to wake up from.

"You feel it, don't you? That strange ache when we speak. That silence between your heartbeats. That pain when the petals fall."

My breath caught.

"…Why does it feel like I've known you forever?"

"Because your soul did. Before it forgot."

She lifted her hand slowly—and for the first time, touched my chest with her fingertips.

Right where my heartbeat pulsed.

"I waited across cities that never existed. Across skies that cracked. Across dreams that looped like broken lullabies. I waited… until this version of you found me again."

My throat burned.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "That I forgot."

She smiled—and it nearly shattered me.

"You always do. But you always come back."

---

We stood there for what felt like a hundred lifetimes packed into one breath.

The wind had gone quiet.

Only the moon watched us now.

"I found this," I said softly, lifting the crescent necklace and offering it back to her.

But she gently closed my fingers around it.

"It's yours now."

"Why?"

"Because next time I vanish… that pendant will help you find me again."

"Next time…?" I asked, my voice cracking.

She looked away. "This world doesn't like people like me. It pulls me back when I stay too long. It forgets me faster each time."

"But I don't want to forget."

"I know."

Her voice was so soft, it barely reached my ears.

"But even stars forget to shine when the sky closes."

---

She stepped back.

"No," I said quickly. "Wait. Stay. Please."

Her expression was full of sorrow.

"I want to," she whispered. "But the more time I spend here, the more unstable things become. Haven't you noticed?"

I thought back. The flickering lights. The petals that never bloomed in this season. The strange time warps. The silence between seconds.

"The world tries to erase the things it doesn't understand," she said. "And we… are one of those things."

"Then let me come with you."

"You can't."

"Why not?!"

She looked up at me again, and for the first time, her voice trembled.

"Because last time you tried… the sky took you instead."

---

I didn't understand. Not fully.

But I believed her.

Every word. Every emotion. Every shard of a story that felt like mine even though I had never lived it.

She turned to leave.

And I stepped forward.

"Tell me your name."

She paused.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because the moment you say it… the world will start to erase it again."

She looked over her shoulder one last time.

"But if you ever hear it again in a dream… don't let go of it."

The wind picked up.

Her form began to fade—petal by petal, like a painting being unpainted from the edges.

"Wait!" I shouted again, reaching out.

"Don't be sad," she said with a fading smile. "This isn't goodbye. It never is."

And then—

**She vanished.**

---

I fell to my knees.

The grass was still warm where she stood. The petals still floated, caught in a wind only I could feel. The pendant still pulsed gently in my palm.

But the world felt heavier again.

Like it had remembered gravity the moment she disappeared.

And then something flickered in my head.

A sound.

Not quite a word… more like a note from a forgotten song.

A name.

Whispered like a secret.

Faint… fading…

**"Lira…"**

I didn't know if I made it up.

Or if my heart had finally remembered.

But that night, I etched the name into a notebook.

And I wrote just one line beneath it.

> *The night brought you to me… again.

> Please let the next one last forever.

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