It was almost midnight.
The full moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the jungle.
Usually, the dense canopy drowned the winding paths in shadow.
Tonight was different.
Rain clung to the leaves like crystal, letting moonlight weave through the branches and spill onto the ground below.
The jungle felt alive with quiet magic—every leaf and fern shimmering, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
A sudden crunch broke the stillness.
Wet ferns flattened beneath hurried footsteps.
Two men and a woman ran through the jungle, guided only by the moonlight.
The woman was heavily pregnant, one hand clutching her stomach as she struggled to keep pace.
"The baby… the baby's coming!" she gasped.
One man pulled her arm over his shoulder, steadying her.
"Just a little longer. We're almost there."
The other man slowed, listening to the trees.
After a tense moment, he glanced back.
"It seems they lost the trail. No one's chasing now."
Relief passed through them, silent and fragile.
None dared slow down.
Soon, the trees parted.
The lake lay before them, vast and still, reflecting the moon like a sheet of silver.
A boat waited at the shore.
Stepping from it was a woman whose presence shifted the air itself.
Her beauty felt unreal, like something shaped from moonlight rather than flesh.
White-silver hair fell in soft waves around her radiant face, shimmering with each movement.
A thin cloth draped over part of her head, catching the breeze like the wing of a celestial creature.
Her eyes were clear and deep, like crystal water touched directly by the moon.
Even Yunhua, breathless and shaking with pain, forgot to breathe.
"You're even more beautiful than they said, Ada…" she whispered.
Ada smiled, warm and gentle.
"Thank you. But tonight, another life will shine brighter than I ever could."
The men helped Yunhua into the boat.
A blanket had already been laid out, and another woman beside Ada prepared the space with quiet efficiency.
As Yunhua lay back, a blue butterfly fluttered forward.
Its wings glowed faintly, an impossible, soft blue light, and it settled in her hair, light as reassurance.
The delivery began.
Pain surged through her in sharp waves, then deeper ones, forces that bent her body and stole her breath.
Ada's hands remained warm and steady, guiding her with calm, almost sacred assurance.
Her voice blended with the whispering lake, soothing even the trembling air.
Yunhua's hair, once gathered into a loose low bun, began to come undone.
The white hairpiece slipped free as she pressed her head into the blanket.
The bun unraveled.
Black strands spilled over her cheeks and shoulders, catching the moonlight like threads spun from starlight.
Sweat dampened the wisps clinging to her skin, but instead of looking disheveled, they shimmered.
Her face grew pale from the strain.
Under the full moon, her cheeks seemed almost translucent, glowing from within.
The butterfly lifted from her hair, circling the boat, its blue wings cutting through the silver light like a tiny comet.
It hovered above her, as if blessing the moment.
Every breath slowed.
Every sound softened, as though the world itself had gone silent to witness what was about to happen.
Then—
With a final cry swallowed by the gentle waves—
The child was born.
Small fingers curled instinctively as he entered the world, wet and shining beneath the moon.
Yunhua gasped, tears glittering like liquid starlight as Ada placed the newborn against her chest.
The moon's glow wrapped around them, silver and still, as if sealing their bond.
The baby's first breaths were soft, trembling things.
Yunhua laughed shakily in relief.
The butterfly returned, landing lightly on her raised finger.
Its wings shimmered with a strange warmth.
"His father said… his name is Ardeshir," Yunhua whispered.
Ada's expression softened.
"Ardeshir Nebulae," she said. "A most fitting name."
Yunhua looked down at her son, then slowly lifted her gaze to the moon.
The relief in her eyes faded.
Something colder flickered in its place.
Then the sky changed.
A ripple spread across the moon, like a finger drawn through water.
It widened, tearing the silver light apart.
Nearby stars twisted unnaturally as dark purple radiance bled into the heavens, consuming the moon's glow.
Ada, the helpers, the men on the shore—none panicked.
They watched with calm acceptance, as though this moment had always been inevitable.
The silver reflection on the baby's face vanished, replaced by the dark purple light.
He stopped crying—
as if the darkness comforted him.
As if he belonged to it.
Slowly, Ardeshir opened his eyes for the first time.
Not to light—
but to darkness.
Two tiny blue irises glowed softly as the purple sky spread, swallowing the heavens.
And in Ada's arms, the child stared upward, unblinking, filled with quiet awe—
as the world changed to welcome him.