It was almost midnight.
The full moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the jungle.
Usually, the dense canopy and twisting branches cloaked the pathways in shadows, but tonight was different.
Rain had recently fallen, leaving the leaves glistening like crystal, letting the moonlight weave through the branches and illuminate the ground below.
The jungle seemed alive with magic, every leaf and fern shimmering as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
A sudden crunch broke the stillness.
Wet ferns were pressed flat under hurried footsteps.
Two men and a woman were running through the jungle, guided only by the moonlight.
The woman was heavily pregnant, clutching her stomach with one hand as she struggled to keep pace.
"The baby… the baby's coming!" she gasped.
One man pulled her arm over his shoulder, helping her run.
"Just a little longer! We're almost there!"
The other man looked back, listening carefully to the trees.
"It seems they lost the trail. No one's chasing now."
A silent relief washed over them, though none dared slow down.
Soon they reached the lakeside.
The vast lake reflected the moon like a sheet of silver.
A boat waited at the edge, and stepping out of it was a woman whose presence shifted the air.
Her beauty felt unreal—like someone carved from moonlight itself.
Her white-silver hair fell in soft waves that framed her radiant face, shimmering with every movement.
A thin, smooth cloth draped over part of her head, catching the breeze like the wing of some celestial creature.
Her eyes were clear and deep, like crystal water touched directly by the moon.
Even Yunhua, the pregnant, despite the pain twisting through her body, forgot to breathe for a moment.
"You're even more beautiful than they said, Ada…" she whispered.
Ada smiled, warm and gentle.
"Thank you. But tonight, there is another beautiful life waiting to shine brighter than I ever could."
The men helped Yunhua onto the boat.
A blanket was already laid out.
Another woman beside Ada prepared the space for the delivery.
As Yunhua lay down, a blue butterfly fluttered forward.
Its wings glowed faintly—an impossible, soft blue light—and it landed lightly on her hair as if reassuring her: You are not alone.
The delivery began.
Pain surged through her, sharp at first, then deeper—waves that bent her body and stole her breath.
Ada's hands were warm and steady, guiding her with calm, almost sacred assurance.
Her voice mixed with the whispering lake, soothing even the trembling air.
Yunhua's hair, originally gathered into a loose low bun, began coming undone with each contraction.
The bun was never tight—soft, textured, romantic.
A few strands had already escaped, framing her face.
Now, as she pressed her head against the blanket in agony, the delicate white hair accessory slipped free.
The bun unraveled.
Black strands fell over her cheeks and shoulders, catching the moonlight like threads spun from starlight.
Sweat dampened the wisps that clung to her skin, but instead of looking messy, they shimmered—giving her an ethereal, fragile glow.
Her face grew pale from the intensity of the pain, but that pallor only made her beauty more striking.
Under the full moon, her pallid cheeks seemed almost translucent, glowing from within.
The contrast between her pale skin, the dark, sweat-damp strands of hair on her forehead, and the silver light bathing her made her look otherworldly—like a sacred figure carved from moon and shadow.
Even in agony, she was breathtaking.
Her trembling lips, her unfocused blue eyes, the way her brows knotted in pain—all of it only deepened the sense that this moment was something holy and powerful.
The butterfly lifted from her hair, circling the boat again, its blue wings slicing through the silver light like a tiny comet.
It paused in the air above her, as if blessing the moment.
Every breath slowed.
Every sound softened.
It felt as if the world had gone silent to witness what was about to happen.
Then—
With a final cry swallowed by the gentle waves—
The child was born.
Wet, shining, small fingers curling instinctively as he entered the world.
Yunhua gasped, tears sparkling like liquid starlight as Ada placed the newborn against her chest.
The moon leaned closer—its silver glow wrapping mother and child as if blessing their bond.
The baby's first breaths were soft, trembling things, and Yunhua let out a shaky laugh of relief.
The butterfly returned, landing gently on her raised finger.
As Yunhua smiled at it—understanding its joy, its presence—the creature's wings shimmered with a strange, luminous warmth.
"His father said… his name is Ardeshir," Yunhua whispered.
Ada's face softened.
"Ardeshir Nebulae — a most fitting name" Ada replied.
Yunhua looked down at her son, then slowly lifted her gaze to the moon.
Her eyes—once filled with relief—grew cold.
Guilt flickered in them, sharp as ice.
As if she were apologizing to the moon itself.
Then the sky changed.
A ripple spread across the moon—like someone dragging a finger across water.
The ripple tore wider.
The stars near it twisted unnaturally.
Silver light shattered.
Dark purple radiance flooded the sky, consuming the moon's glow.
Ada, the helpers, the men on shore—none panicked.
They watched with calm acceptance.
As though they had always known this moment would come.
The baby's face shifted with the sky.
The silver reflection disappeared, 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.
The purple sky continued spreading, swallowing the heavens.
And in Ada's arms, two tiny glowing blue eyes stared upward, unblinking, filled with awe…
…as the world changed to welcome him.