The sky was not always blue. Once, it bled gold.
Long before men carved kingdoms into stone and named stars after themselves, the world was ruled by gods—celestial beings of light and dark. Among them was Lunaria, the Moon Goddess, keeper of dreams, silence, and tides. Her twin was Solen, the Sun God, bearer of fire, judgment, and glory.
They were meant to exist in balance—day and night, light and shadow.
But balance is a fragile thing.
Lunaria fell in love.
Not with her brother, but with a mortal: a young painter named Aureon who painted stars on broken temple walls. Every night, as he looked to the moon, she looked back. And soon, her silver light lingered longer in the sky just to watch him paint.
The gods warned her. “You give too much,” they said. “He is dust. You are eternal.”
But she did not listen.
Lunaria descended to Earth clothed in moonlight, and for a time, she lived among mortals as a woman named Elen. She laughed. She danced. And she loved Aureon with the desperation of a goddess who knew that mortals die.
He loved her too—until he learned the truth.
When Aureon found out she was divine, he was not awed. He was terrified.
“You are not meant to be real,” he whispered. “You were never mine to love.”
He fled.
Betrayed, Lunaria returned to the heavens, her heart a hollow crater. And in her grief, she did what no god had done before—she wept.
One tear fell.
Then another.
Each drop turned to gold as it left her eye, burning through the night sky like a dying star. Her sorrow rained upon the world, destroying cities, swallowing oceans. Mortals cried out, not in sympathy—but in fear.
And Solen, furious that balance had broken, chained Lunaria to the sky.
Now she watches the world in silence, her golden tears frozen into the stars.
---
Centuries passed.
In the city of Velithor, no one remembered Lunaria’s name. Only stories remained—children’s tales of a crying moon and cursed gold. But one man believed.
His name was Kaelen, a thief, a shadow with a voice like thunder and a smile made of lies. He wasn’t looking for love or legends—just gold. Especially the kind that fell from the sky.
One night, during a rare eclipse, he saw something burn through the heavens. A star? A comet?
No.
It landed near the ancient ruins beyond the city—a single golden tear.
He followed it.
He found her.
Buried in moonlight, half-broken, half-divine, she lay where the gold had struck. A woman of impossible beauty—eyes like galaxies, skin pale as pearl, and a voice so quiet he thought he imagined it.
“You came for me,” she whispered. “At last.”
Kaelen should have run.
But he didn’t.
Kaelen wasn’t a man who believed in fate. He believed in gold, in luck, in surviving by any means. Yet, there he stood—silent before the woman who shimmered like the memory of moonlight, even in the dark.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice low.
“I am what remains of a god,” she said. “Or what sorrow made me.”
Her name was Elen—a whisper from myths that even the old priests no longer recited. Her body was warm like human skin, yet her eyes glowed with the sadness of millennia.
Kaelen didn’t understand it. Not at first.
But he helped her.
He carried her through the ruins, clothed her in his coat, hid her in the forgotten catacombs of Velithor. And day by day, she grew stronger—her powers slowly awakening in the mortal world once more.
People spoke of strange things in the city. Moonflowers blooming out of season. Dreams that whispered in a forgotten tongue. Statues crying gold.
The moon watched them closer now.
---
One night, Elen painted stars on the stone wall, just like Aureon once had. Kaelen sat near, sharpening a dagger. He pretended not to watch her.
“Why do you help me?” she asked.
“You fell from the sky. I’m hoping you’re worth something.”
She smiled, but her smile never reached her eyes.
“You remind me of him,” she said softly.
Kaelen didn’t ask who. He already knew.
The next day, gold hunters came. Word had spread: a celestial tear had struck the earth. Mercenaries, kings, and cultists scoured the land. They wanted power. Divinity. Immortality.
They wanted her.
Kaelen tried to move her. Hide her. Run.
But Elen refused.
“I’m tired of hiding,” she said. “Let them come.”
---
When the first army arrived, Elen walked into the moonlight and raised her hands.
The sky opened.
Golden light poured like fire from above, and the invaders fell to their knees—not in awe, but in agony. Their greed turned to ash. Their flesh to dust.
Kaelen watched in terror and wonder.
Elen wept.
“I didn’t want this,” she said. “But they would have broken the world.”
He placed his hand over hers. “And what about me?” he asked. “Will I burn too?”
She looked at him for a long time.
“No,” she said. “Because you came before the gold.”
---
That night, they kissed under a weeping sky.
But the gods were watching.
Solen, still furious with his sister, struck the earth in rage. Fire rained from the heavens. The stars blinked out.
Elen’s strength began to fade.
“They will never let me live,” she said, her voice a silver thread.
“Then let’s not live,” Kaelen whispered. “Let’s become something else.”
---
At the peak of the world, where the sky is closest to the ground, Kaelen carried her to a forgotten temple. There, with blood and starlight, he made a wish.
He gave his soul to the moon.
And in return, she gave her tears to the world.
---
Now, every century, during the golden eclipse, people say a shadow walks the ruins with a woman made of stars. They speak of a moon that no longer weeps, and a sky that no longer burns.
No one remembers Kaelen’s name.
But the moon does.
And she never forgets the man who taught her that even the broken can love again.
---
The End
Bye my dear readers! 🥰🥰🥰
