The Lunar Sanctum rose before us like something torn from a dream—or a nightmare, depending on how the light caught it.
It wasn’t a building so much as a monument to something ancient and untouchable. Stone columns twisted skyward in spirals that seemed to defy gravity, their surfaces carved with symbols that hurt to look at directly. The architecture married the sacred geometry of a temple with the sweeping grandeur of a world-class museum, all flowing lines and impossible angles that made my eyes water when I tried to follow them to their conclusion.
Massive windows of black glass reflected nothing, drinking in light the same way the car’s surface had. The entrance gaped open like a mouth, framed by an archway that pulsed with veins of silver running through the stone.
Beautiful. Terrifying. Alive in a way that made my skin crawl.
Everything in this realm had that distinct effect on me; either so beautiful it hurt or terrifying it filled me with dread.
Two figures emerged from the shadows of the entrance as our car came to a stop. Women draped in black robes that pooled around their feet, the fabric so dark it seemed to absorb the daylight around them. Their faces were hidden beneath deep hoods, but I could feel their attention settle on us like weight.
Vladimir stepped out first, moving with that predatory grace that made every gesture look choreographed. One of the robed women inclined her head—a gesture that managed to be both respectful and somehow condescending.
"Alpha," she said, voice smooth as silk.
I climbed out after him, legs unsteady from sitting too long in tension. The second woman approached me without a word, hands reaching for the fur coat draped over my shoulders. Her fingers were cold when they brushed my skin, efficient and impersonal as she lifted the weight away.
Neither woman smiled. Neither spoke beyond that single acknowledgment. Their faces, what I could see of them in the shadow of their hoods, remained blank as carved marble. Unreadable. Unmoved.
They turned and began walking toward the entrance, expecting us to follow.
I fell into step behind them, Vladimir’s presence at my shoulder. The robed figures glided ahead of us, their movements eerily synchronized, like dancers who’d performed this same routine a thousand times before.
The closer we got to that gaping entrance, the more the air seemed to thicken around us, heavy with the weight of something I couldn’t name.
Stepping across the threshold was like crossing into another world entirely.
The moment my feet touched the polished floor inside, the sensation of morning vanished. Not gradually—instantly, as if someone had thrown a switch. The warmth of the climbing sun disappeared from my skin, replaced by the cool embrace of perpetual twilight.
I looked up and forgot how to breathe.
The ceiling soared impossibly high above us, lost in darkness that seemed to stretch into infinity. But scattered across that vast expanse were stars—real stars, not the plastic glow-in-the-dark decorations from childhood bedrooms. These burned with genuine light, silver and gold and distant blue, scattered across the artificial night sky like diamonds thrown across black velvet. They pulsed with their own rhythms, some bright and steady, others flickering like candles in an unfelt breeze.
The beauty of it hit me like a physical blow. I’d seen planetariums, but this was different—alive, breathing, as if someone had torn a piece of the actual cosmos and trapped it here for their pleasure.
I turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. The walls curved away into shadow, their surfaces gleaming with the same strange stone as the exterior. Everywhere I looked, symbols caught the starlight and threw it back in patterns that seemed to shift when I wasn’t looking directly at them.
"Vladimir?" I called softly, my voice swallowed by the vast space.
I turned another circle, faster this time. The robed women who had led us in were gone. The entrance behind us had disappeared into shadow. And Vladimir—
"Vladimir!" Panic crept into my voice, making it crack.
Nothing but the echo of my own fear bouncing back from those impossible walls.
My heart began to race as I spun around, searching the starlit darkness. How had I lost them? We’d been walking together just moments ago, following those silent guides. I’d only looked up at the stars for a few seconds—
"VLADIMIR!" I screamed his name now, the sound raw and desperate as it tore from my throat.
The stars above continued their silent dance. My feet found their pace, carrying me deeper into the space as panic took hold. I ran toward what I thought might be corridors or alcoves, calling his name until my voice went hoarse. The darkness seemed to part before me and close behind, as if the very building was swallowing my presence.
Had he left me here intentionally? Was this some kind of test? Or had something happened to him too?
My breath came in short gasps as I stumbled through the cosmic twilight, alone with nothing but the stars as witnesses to my growing terror.
The voice cut through the starlit silence like a blade, and my entire body went rigid. Every muscle locked in place, my breath catching in my throat as recognition slammed into me with the force of a sledge hammar. Fınd the newest release on novel-fire.ɴet
I knew that voice. Had dreamed of it, mourned it, tried desperately to forget it when guilt was too much to bear.
Footsteps echoed behind me; soft, measured, achingly familiar. The sound of heels on polished stone, the same cadence I’d heard a thousand times walking down hallways of our cramped family home, across kitchen floors, up stairs to tuck me into bed.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I slowly turned around, terrified of what I’d find but unable to stop myself.
She stood there beneath the cosmic canopy, bathed in starlight that seemed to gather around her like she was drawing it in. Hazel eyes that I’d not inherited stared back at me, warm and alive and impossible. Blonde hair fell in waves past her shoulders, just the way I remembered, just the way it had been before—
It was coloured auburn with her own blood.
"Mom?" The word escaped as barely a whisper, my voice breaking on that single syllable.
She smiled; that gentle, knowing smile that had comforted scraped knees and soothed nightmares, that had been absent from my world for so long I’d started to forget what it looked like.
"Hello, sweetheart," she said, taking a step closer. Her voice was exactly as I remembered it, soft and melodic, carrying that hint of laughter it always held when she looked at me.
My legs gave out. I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth, my breath coming short, painful spurts. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. She was gone. She’d been gone for years.
But there she stood, solid and real under the impossible stars, looking at me with all the love I’d lost.