YogyYogii

The story about Princess Moonlight that comes to earth!

          Rembulan or Lunaria, she's the supreme queen ruler of the lunar planet. Her dominion stretched across all kingdoms of the moon, including the mighty Arkei Kingdom—the greatest and strongest of the celestial realms, commanded by her will alone. Lunaria was a sacred sovereign, revered by kings and commonfolk alike, for her divine blessings allowed their civilizations to thrive. She was the immortal embodiment, destined never to perish… unless she unleashed her greatest power.  

          In the year 922 of Lunarism (2100 AD on Earth), war ravaged the moon's kingdoms. Chaos reigned. Everything lay in ruins, kings were slaughtered, and the scramble for power blinded all to reason. Overwhelmed by grief and compassion, Lunaria chose to relinquish that power to shield her people from the savagery of power-hungry warriors and tyrants. She bore this burden alone, for she was a princess of purity and grace, one who abhorred the radicals clawing at her realm's foundations.  

          When she activated her primordial force, her own kingdom—the Moonlight Kingdom—became a sanctuary, the sole survivor of the cataclysm, shielded by an ethereal barrier born of her sacrifice. Yet, in the aftermath, stripped of her power and vulnerable, Lunaria was sent to Earth by Ambalan, her elder brother, who vowed to continue safeguarding their people. Ambalan could not bear to see his sister perish, especially now that she no longer possessed the strength to shield even herself.  

          Thus, the moon's luminous queen fell to the mortal world—a radiant soul exiled, her legacy etched in starlight and sorrow. 


Yogy
3 February 2025®

Rembulan : The Tale of Moonlight

As Sari's words settled, Lunaria—now *Luna*—absorbed the revelation. Earth, this realm of soil and storms, defied everything the lunar schools had taught. They had painted humanity as a species of fangs and fire, yet here was Sari: gentle, patient, human. The air hummed with cicadas, not the whir of drones; the night smelled of damp earth, not sterile ozone. For the first time in centuries, Lunaria felt… peace.

"What's your name?" Sari asked, breaking the silence.

Lunaria hesitated. To utter her true name risked everything. "Luna," she said, the lie smooth as moonstone. "Or… Bulan."

"Bulan?" Sari chuckled, a sound like wind chimes. "Kay, I'll stick with Bulan. 'Luna's' our tribe's namesake—might confuse folks."

"Bulan," Lunaria echoed, the word foreign yet fitting.

"You know what 'Bulan' means, right?" Sari pressed, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "The moon—our goddess's realm. It's sacred here. Are you from this country? Or… elsewhere?"

Lunaria's pulse quickened. "A neighboring land," she replied, fabricating a story as fragile as spider silk. "I… don't recall how I arrived."

It was a gamble. She knew nothing of Earth's borders, but Sari nodded, accepting the half-truth.

"ah probably it was because the teleport machine from Kingdom Asia , i guess? I think you become the victim of that things because you know, it's viral about that in this land because people from outsiders from that country tell us about this" she explained about what she knew.

"uhm.... Yeah, you right" Luna's lying

"really? So this is the truth. Thanks for tell me because you know, i kinda not believe that one but i trust you"

"anyways you should rest because it's one am" Sari said, rising. "Tomorrow, the elders will want to meet you. A woman who survives two months without food? They'll call it a miracle."

Sari then go to her room, same as Lunaria go to different room. They two in Sari's Field House so it's really quiet. Sari have this house in this place because she love field of rice so bad and she kinda introvert.

Alone again, Lunaria stared at the thatched ceiling. *Miracle*. The word curdled in her throat. She was no blessing—just a fallen queen, clinging to shadows.

Dawn had not yet broken seven when the rice fields swarmed with villagers, their whispers rippling like wind through stalks. But before the crowd could descend, Lesley arrived—a figure of coiled authority, her gaze sharp as a sickle.

"I am Lesley," she said, voice low but unyielding. "Leader of this island. I have questions."

Bulan nodded, her posture serene, her mind a fortress.

"They call you Bulan. You claim to hail from the Kingdom of Asia?"

Lesley leaned forward, the bamboo floor creaking beneath her. "Sari says you were part of a teleportation machine prototype. Is this true? And do you know how to build one?"

Bulan's pause was a blade's edge. "Yes. I… have some knowledge."

A flicker of hope lit Lesley's eyes. "Then help us. We need that technology. To survive. To protect this land from those who'd carve it into factories."

Bulan understood now—the desperation beneath the demand. Earth's empires were closing in, their hunger for resources eclipsing mercy. These women, warriors of soil and tradition, stood on a cliff's edge. And though her power was a dying ember, she saw her path: to become the goddess they believed her to be.

"I'll help," she said, her tone regal, as if the moon itself spoke through her. "Gather the materials. I'll guide you."

Lesley's breath hitched. Tears glistened but did not fall. "Thank you," she murmured, bowing her head—not to Bulan, but to the sky. "Thank you, Great Moon Goddess."

As she left, Bulan clenched her hands, the weight of her lie heavy as a crown.

Earthie Ally