This chapter floats in like a dream — a slow, starlit lull where time seems to hold its breath. Set beneath the haunting beauty of the dual moons, we find Lyria wrapped in silence and starlight. It’s a deeply introspective scene, with emotional intimacy told through imagery, not dialogue.

  Lyria lies under the open sky, her magical dress close by — not worn, but resting beside her like a companion, giving the impression it’s alive even in sleep. Her thoughts wander upward. She reaches toward the heavens, wondering if someone like her exists somewhere out there — a child, maybe, under the same stars. That yearning for connection, for meaning, ripples through her words like a quiet prayer.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Her eyes shimmer with magic, hinting again that she’s not an ordinary girl. The moons reflect in her gaze, just as she reflects on her own unknown future.

  But then… the tranquility cracks.

  A glitch. A screen distortion.

  A moment of surreal interference like a signal breaking through — jarring and unnatural. Something is watching. Or trying to.

  The scene ends with a cut to black — unsettling and abrupt, like reality itself hiccupped.

  Emotionally, this chapter hits notes of:

  

  
• 
  
    ?? Melancholic wonder (Lyria’s questions and longing)
  
    


  
• 
  
    ?? Delicate peace (a child lost in thought beneath a sacred sky)
  
    


  
• 
  
    ?? Mystery and unease (the glitch hinting at something beyond)
  
    


  
• 
  
    ?? Cosmic connection (the moons, her powers, the strange magic threading through it all)