Elara Moon learned early that most people were not alone.
They only thought they were.
She saw them everywhere—thin silver threads stretching from chest to chest, wrist to wrist, sometimes even from the heart itself. They shimmered faintly, like moonlight caught in spider silk, invisible to everyone but her.
Some threads were bright and strong, pulsing with warmth.
Others were frayed, dull, trembling as if they might snap.
Elara had learned what they meant before she learned what to call them.
Love.
Hate.
Promise.
Fate.
Every person carried at least one.
Every person… except her.
She stood at the edge of the town square, hands tucked into the sleeves of her coat, watching people pass. A couple laughed as they crossed the street, their thread glowing gold between them. A mother tugged her child closer, their bond thick and steady.
Elara looked down at herself.
Nothing.
No silver glow.
No tether.
No proof she belonged to anyone—or anything.
The old women in town said it was because she'd been born wrong.
"Eclipse babies are strange," they whispered when they thought she couldn't hear. "Neither night nor day. Neither blessed nor cursed."
Elara had been born during a total lunar eclipse nineteen years ago. The moon had turned red. Dogs had howled. And somewhere between darkness and light, she had arrived.
Threadless.
She turned away from the square and headed toward the forest path, boots crunching against frost. The air felt heavy tonight. The moon hung low, pale and watchful.
That was when she felt it.
A pressure.
Not on her skin—but behind her eyes.
She stopped.
Someone was coming.
Elara turned slowly.
A man stood at the edge of the trees.
He hadn't been there a moment ago.
He was tall, dark-haired, dressed too lightly for the cold, his expression calm in a way that unsettled her. His eyes—dark, unreadable—lifted and met hers.
Her breath caught.
Instinctively, Elara looked for the threads.
She always did.
Nothing.
Not between him and anyone else.
Not between him and the world.
It was as if fate itself had stepped back.
The silver threads around the square trembled—then one snapped.
A couple across the street fell silent, confusion clouding their faces.
Another thread frayed.
Elara's heart began to pound.
The stranger took a step closer.
The moon flickered behind clouds.
And for the first time in her life, Elara Moon felt fate look directly at her—
and hesitate.
END OF CHAPTER 1