Chapter 1 ~ LUNA

There’s a certain kind of silence that exists only in the woods.

Not empty. Not lonely. Just… whole.

That’s what drew me here in the first place. Not the pine trees or the fresh mountain air — though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love those too. But the stillness, the way time seemed to pause between rustling leaves and a bird's distant call… it was like the world finally made sense here. Out here, I could breathe.

I wasn’t running from anything dramatic. No big heartbreak or tragic backstory. Just… life had always felt a little too loud, a little too demanding. Somewhere between city deadlines and forced smiles, I lost the version of myself that felt real. So I left. Packed up my things, sold what didn’t matter, and found this tiny cabin hugging the edge of Pine Hollow Forest.

It’s been a year now.

A full year of learning how to live on my own. Fixing leaking taps, hauling firewood, burning more meals than I’d admit.

But also — morning sunlight through foggy windows. Hot tea in silence. Photographs that told stories no words could ever hold.

I wasn’t complicated. I didn’t need much. Just my camera, a working kettle, and boots that could survive a muddy trail. And yet… lately, something about the forest felt different. The silence, heavier. Like the trees were listening.

I slung my camera around my neck as I stepped off the porch, boots crunching into the wet soil. The air had that post-rain sharpness I loved — clean and a little wild.

I walked the same trail I always did, through the pines and toward the small clearing where the wild deer sometimes came in the morning light. But today, they weren’t there. Not a single hoofprint. No birdsong either.

It wasn’t exactly eerie. But it was strange.

And then it happened.

Not a sound. Not a sight.

Just a feeling. Like I wasn’t alone.

I paused, heart beating a little faster, fingers tightening around my camera. I turned slowly. Nothing. Just trees. Fog. And quiet.

"Get a grip, Luna," I whispered to myself, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. But my voice sounded out of place here. Like it didn’t belong.

Still, I lifted my camera and snapped a few shots — the light hitting the mist just right. The kind of photograph that always stirred something deep in me. Nostalgia, maybe. Or longing. For what, I couldn’t quite say.

And then…

A flicker. Barely a blur between the trees. I turned quickly, lens up, breath caught. Click.

I lowered the camera. Nothing there.

But I’d seen it. Something — someone — had been watching me.

I stared into the stillness, my heart thrumming louder than it should. But I didn’t run. I didn’t even move. Something inside me whispered, *stay*.

So I did.

Even though the forest no longer felt like it was mine alone.

Even though the silence felt like it belonged to someone else now.

I didn’t know it then, but the moment I stepped into that clearing, I’d entered *his* world.

And nothing — not my quiet life, not my love for solitude, not even the camera that had always helped me make sense of the world — would ever be the same again.

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