Chapter Text
I didn’t know how to explain it. I couldn’t find the right words—wasn’t even sure what to do. But in recent days, I had started to feel something strange in the sky, like a presence silently wrapping itself around me.
I felt a gaze coming from above, beyond the clouds, beyond the atmosphere—as if someone from the very stars was watching me. It wasn’t a warm gaze, but a burning one, invasive, as if it could pierce through my skin and read my deepest thoughts.
“I feel like I’m being watched, Norrin,” she confessed to her fiancé as they looked up at the night sky. “It’s as if some unknown force has set its eyes on me… and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He just looked at her, confused, unsure of what to say. The intensity in his eyes showed that he didn’t quite understand what she was feeling, but he was willing to listen.
“Maybe it’s just my imagination,” she finally said, trying to brush it off with a faint smile. “Maybe it’s nothing…”
She gently took Norrin’s hand and brought it to her face, as if seeking refuge in his warmth—in that skin she was beginning to know as home. That simple gesture was her way of calming herself.
Without a word, he moved closer and kissed her deeply, with tenderness and certainty. A kiss that spoke for him, that told her without words: I’m here, with you, you’re not alone.
Beneath the silver light of the two moons floating in the starry sky, their lips met again—more intense, more connected. In that moment, the universe seemed to stop, and the fear that had filled her before faded away, if only for a while.
After so many years of solitude, after bearing the responsibility of raising her daughter alone in a world that often offered no comfort, she had finally found someone who understood her. A partner who not only loved her, but also cared for what she valued most: her little family.
He caressed her with tenderness, as if every brush of his fingers were a promise. He leaned close to her ear and whispered words of devotion and love—words filled with sincerity that wrapped around her like a cloak in the middle of the night.
“I love you,” he whispered softly. “I love you more than the stars could ever count, Shalla… my love.”
She smiled sweetly and returned his caresses, touching his cheek, his neck, his chest. Between whispers, she responded with the same intensity.
“I love you, I love you so much…” she repeated, as if afraid that if she stopped saying it, reality itself might vanish. “My love…”
The warmth between them grew slowly and gently, like a flame stirred by the wind. Shalla began to tremble slightly—not from cold, but from the overwhelming emotion of being so close to him, from everything he made her feel. Norrin noticed, and delicately began to unbutton her dress, unhurried, as if each button were part of a sacred ritual.
Beneath the soft light of the moons, their bodies came together with the ease of those who had finally found each other after a long wait.
Everything seemed perfect. For a moment, the world belonged only to them.
But then… she felt it.
A chill ran down her spine like a cold gust of wind. That gaze… had returned. Invisible, but unmistakable. A presence watching her from above with an intensity that was almost unbearable. It wasn’t curiosity. It wasn’t mere attention like before. This time, it was anger. Raw and searing.
“Wait…” Shalla whispered—just enough to stop him.
Their lips parted, and her body—only seconds ago surrendered to the warmth of the moment—tensed, as if something inside her had suddenly shifted. She took a step back, clumsily, as though her own feet no longer obeyed her.
He looked at her with wide eyes, confused, trying to read on her face what had made her pull away so suddenly. The silence between them, which only moments ago had been intimate and comforting, now hung heavy like a shadow.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, though a note of concern had already crept into his voice. He took a step toward her—not to intrude, but seeking solace in her closeness. “Did I hurt you? Did I say something wrong?”
Shalla shook her head, though her eyes never lifted to meet his. The words swirled inside her chest like frightened birds, desperate to escape but unable to find a way out. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t explain that, in the midst of their love, a gaze had pierced her like a burning spear. That from somewhere beyond the clouds, something… or someone, was watching her with silent fury.
“I have to…” she stammered, searching for an excuse—anything that wouldn’t sound insane. “I have to go… I’m sorry.”
And without waiting for his response, she turned toward the door. Her fingers trembled as she fastened her dress, one button at a time, hurriedly and out of order. Her skin still burned from his touch, but now that warmth felt foreign, almost unwelcome. Outside, the night wind greeted her with a long sigh, as if even the darkness knew something wasn’t right.
Norrin didn’t follow her right away, but from the doorway, he watched—still not understanding. He had seen fear in her eyes, not rejection. And that unsettled him even more.
Shalla walked aimlessly, leaving behind the warmth of that home. The ground beneath her feet felt unsteady, as if the world itself wavered ever so slightly—just for her. The two moons floated high above, pale and beautiful… but they offered no comfort that night.
Something up there refused to forgive what she had just felt.
As if her love were a betrayal.
As if, by surrendering herself, she had crossed an invisible line.
She felt unwell. Her stomach churned, her breath came unevenly, and her heart was caught between guilt and confusion.
She stopped in the middle of the path, hugging herself as if she could shield her body from the weight of that invisible gaze. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that it was all in her mind. A fantasy. An irrational fear.
She tried to return to that earlier moment, when it was just Norrin, his kiss, and the promise of a possible life.
But the presence wouldn’t let her.
It surrounded her like an invisible mist, as if the entire universe had turned itself inside out just to look at her.
“There’s no one there…” she whispered, as if trying to convince herself. “There’s no one.”
But the words fell to the ground—empty, useless.
She knew.
There was someone.
Up there.
And he was not pleased.