A Promise to the Stars

The night smelled like rain and lost dreams.

Lyra Everhart stood on the edge of Hollow Creek Bridge, her fingers curled around the cold metal railing, knuckles white from the pressure. Below, the river murmured against the jagged rocks, its slow, steady current moving as if the world hadn't shattered exactly one year ago.

She tilted her head back, staring at the endless black sky stretching above her. Stars blinked like scattered embers, and somewhere in the distance, the wind whispered through the dying autumn leaves. Everything felt exactly the same.

And yet, nothing had been the same since Aiden left.

Lyra inhaled sharply, blinking back the sting behind her eyes. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry tonight. Not again. But the weight of this night pressed against her chest like a phantom hand, curling around her ribs, threatening to squeeze until there was nothing left of her but an echo.

She reached into her coat pocket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the small, silver locket she always carried. She didn't have to open it to know what was inside—a tiny photo of Aiden, grinning as if the world was too small to contain him.

You left me, she thought bitterly. You left me, and I don't know how to be without you.

A sharp gust of wind swept across the bridge, tangling her hair around her face, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant promise of winter. She should go home. She should turn around, walk away, and let the past stay buried where it belonged.

But then she looked up.

And the world stopped.

Two moons hung in the sky.

Lyra sucked in a sharp breath, her heart slamming against her ribs. There, beside the familiar, pale glow of the moon she had known her whole life, was a second moon — deep crimson, like fire frozen in time.

The Second Moon.

A legend. A myth. A ghost story parents told their children when they whispered about things lost and never meant to return.

Her grandmother used to speak of it in hushed tones, warning her never to wish upon it, never to chase what the universe had already taken away.

"The Second Moon only rises for those who have unfinished stories, child. But beware… some love is not meant to be rewritten."

Goosebumps prickled along Lyra's skin. This had to be a trick of the light, a cruel illusion crafted by her grief. The Second Moon wasn't real. It couldn't be.

And yet…

A shadow moved at the other end of the bridge.

Her breath caught in her throat.

A figure stood there, half-hidden in the mist rising from the river below.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair tousled in a way that was achingly familiar.

No.

No, it wasn't possible.

Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the whisper of the wind.

The figure took a step forward, and the glow from the streetlamp caught his face—

And Lyra's world shattered all over again.

Aiden.

Her heart seized in her chest, her body frozen in place. She wanted to run to him, wanted to close the impossible distance between them and press her hands to his face, to feel if he was real—if this was some cruel hallucination or a second chance carved from the bones of the universe.

But then his gaze met hers.

And it was wrong.

His storm-gray eyes—eyes she had memorized, eyes that had once looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered—held no recognition.

"Do I…" His voice was lower than she remembered, rougher around the edges. He frowned slightly, head tilting. "Do I know you?"

A blade of ice slid through her veins.

She stared at him, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to do anything but break apart at the seams.

"Aiden…" His name was a whisper, a prayer, a wound torn open all over again.

He flinched slightly, as if the name stirred something inside him. But still, there was nothing in his expression that mirrored the agony coursing through her veins.

This wasn't her Aiden.

Her Aiden was gone.

And yet… he stood before her, flesh and bone and real.

Her hands trembled at her sides. "This… this can't be happening."

He took a cautious step closer, and for a moment, she thought—maybe he remembers, maybe he knows me, maybe…

But then he stopped, his jaw tightening. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else."

The words echoed in her mind, wrapping around her ribs like vines, squeezing, suffocating. How could he not know her? How could the universe be this cruel—to bring him back and strip him of everything they had shared?

Lyra's breath hitched, her entire body going cold.

"No," she whispered. "I know you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. The only sound was the distant rush of the river below, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

Aiden exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I don't know why, but you feel…" He hesitated, then shook his head. "Familiar."

It was something. Not enough. But something.

Lyra took a slow step toward him, fingers trembling as she reached out—

Then the Second Moon pulsed.

A rush of unseen energy slammed into her chest, sending her staggering backward. The world around her blurred, twisting, shifting, as if reality itself was unraveling at the edges.

Pain lashed through her skull, burning behind her eyes.

Then—a voice, soft and distant, echoing through her mind.

"You have until the next full moon."

Lyra gasped, clutching her head as the pain faded as quickly as it came. She looked up, her heart hammering.

Aiden stood before her, unmoved. Unaffected. As if he hadn't felt a thing.

As if the universe had only spoken to her.

Her breath came in uneven gasps. The meaning behind those words curled around her spine, ice-cold and terrifying.

She had one month.

One month to make Aiden remember.

One month to rewrite the love story that had been stolen from them.

And if she failed?

The Second Moon would take her instead.

The wind howled whipping Lyra's hair around her face as she stared at Aiden—the boy she had lost, the love she had mourned.

But he wasn't the same.

His gray eyes, once warm and full of mischief, were now unreadable, like a storm rolling over an unfamiliar sea. He stood there beneath the glow of the Second Moon, staring at her as if she were a stranger.

She swallowed hard, fighting the ache in her throat. One month. That was all she had. One month to make him remember before the Second Moon took her instead.

She took a step closer, gripping the cold railing of the bridge. "Aiden… it's me. Lyra."

His expression flickered, a shadow of something crossing his face—recognition? Pain? She couldn't tell.

"Lyra," he murmured, testing the name on his tongue. A frown creased his forehead. "It… sounds familiar."

Her heart leapt. It's working.

But then, just as quickly, he shook his head and took a step back. "No. I don't remember you."

The hope inside her cracked, but she refused to let it shatter.

"Aiden, we grew up together. We—" She hesitated, voice trembling. "You loved me."

He flinched. Just barely.

The reaction sent a jolt of electricity through her veins. He might not remember, but something inside him still felt it.

"I don't know you," he said again, but there was doubt now. Hesitation.

Lyra clenched her fists. She had to find another way. If memories wouldn't bring him back, maybe something else could.

She forced a breath, her mind racing. Think, Lyra. Think.

And then, suddenly, she knew.

"I made you a promise," she whispered. "A promise to the stars."

Aiden stiffened.

For a moment, just a flicker, something changed in his eyes. A flash of emotion, buried deep beneath the fog of whatever had taken him from her.

He remembers. Even if just a little.

But before she could say anything else, the air around them shifted.

A strange pressure settled over the bridge, thick and suffocating, making the hair on Lyra's arms rise. The wind stilled. The world hushed.

And then—

A voice.

Soft, echoing, but unmistakable.

"You are running out of time, child."

Lyra's breath caught in her throat. The voice didn't come from Aiden. It came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

She turned sharply, searching for the source, but the bridge was empty. Only the whispering wind and the glow of the twin moons remained.

Aiden stiffened beside her. "Did you hear that?"

Her pulse pounded. "You heard it too?"

He nodded slowly, his hand clenching at his side. "What the hell is going on?"

Lyra didn't know how to answer. Because the truth was, she didn't understand it either.

All she knew was that time was slipping through her fingers like sand.

And if she didn't find a way to make Aiden remember soon…

She would be the one lost forever.

Aiden stood rigid, his body tense like a string pulled taut. The wind whispered through the trees, the moonlight casting eerie silver streaks across the bridge.

Lyra's heart pounded in her chest. He heard it too. She wasn't imagining things. The universe—whatever force had brought Aiden back—was speaking to them.

Her throat tightened. Running out of time.

"What the hell was that?" Aiden's voice was rough, edged with unease. He glanced around, searching the shadows for something—or someone—lurking beyond sight.

Lyra shook her head. "I don't know… but I think it's connected to you. To us."

Aiden exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as though trying to push through a thick fog. "I don't even know who 'us' is."

The words were a dagger to her ribs.

But she wasn't going to let go. Not when she had already lost him once.

Lyra stepped closer, cautious but desperate. "Do you trust me?"

Aiden hesitated. His storm-gray eyes met hers, searching. A flicker of something passed through them—curiosity, confusion, a pull he didn't understand.

Finally, he nodded. "I don't know why… but yes."

It was enough.

"Then let me take you somewhere."

Aiden tensed. "Where?"

She turned, glancing over her shoulder.

"Home."

Hollow Creek—Lyra's Home

The Everhart house sat at the edge of the woods, a place where memories clung to the walls like faded ghosts. Lyra pushed open the door, her fingers brushing the old wooden frame, worn from years of touch.

The scent of cinnamon and aged books filled the air. The living room was exactly how she had left it—pictures still crowding the fireplace mantel, stacks of novels piled by the armchair where she used to curl up and read while Aiden teased her for always choosing tragedy.

Aiden stepped inside hesitantly, his gaze flicking around the room. Something about it made him uneasy.

"You've been here before," Lyra said softly, watching his reaction.

His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. He walked slowly to the mantel, his fingers ghosting over the framed photos.

He paused at one.

A picture of them.

Lyra at sixteen, grinning like an idiot, her hand curled around Aiden's wrist as he tried to avoid the camera. It had been his seventeenth birthday. She had made him a cake shaped like a spaceship, and he had pretended to hate it, but she had caught him sneaking extra bites when he thought she wasn't looking.

He lifted the photo frame.

The seconds stretched unbearably long.

Then—

He flinched.

A sharp inhale, his eyes widening slightly, fingers tightening around the frame as though something had clicked inside his head.

Lyra's breath caught. "You remember."

Aiden's jaw clenched. "I…" He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as if fighting something off. "I don't know."His voice was strained. "Flashes, maybe. But it's—distant. Like a dream I can't hold on to."

Lyra swallowed hard. It wasn't enough.

But it was something.

She moved closer, her fingers lightly grazing his wrist. "Aiden… when you left, it destroyed me." Her voice wavered, but she didn't let it break. "You can't just come back and be a stranger. I won't let you."

Aiden turned his head toward her, his gaze heavy. He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

Then, in a near whisper—"I don't know how to be what you want."

She shook her head. "I just want you to be you."

But before either of them could say more—

The lights flickered.

Then shattered.

Glass rained from the ceiling as the room plunged into darkness.

Aiden's body tensed beside her. "What the—"

Then, the whisper returned.

Only this time, it wasn't gentle.

It was a warning. A demand.

"You are running out of time."

Lyra barely had a second to react before the cold slammed into her chest—a force so strong it knocked the air from her lungs.

Aiden shouted her name, but she was already falling—falling backward into the dark, the world spinning around her, the echo of the whisper chilling her bones.

And then—

Nothing.