The night air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of pine and wildflowers. The Busaymountains loomed nearby, their jagged peaks silhouetted against a sky sprinkled with stars. Orion's motorcycle rested on the gravel path, its engine still warm from the ride up. Elysia stood at the edge of the road, her arms wrapped around herself—not from the cold, but as if trying to hold the moment in place.
She tilted her head back, gazing at the vast expanse of the sky. Somewhere in the distance, the soft rustle of leaves and the faint calls of nocturnal creatures filled the air. This was a place untouched by the chaos of the world, where time seemed to slow down.
Whispering a prayer, Elysia let the words spill from her lips like the wind slipping between the trees. Balang araw. For so long, those words had been a promise—vague, fragile, a someday wrapped in uncertainty. But here, surrounded by the grandeur of the mountains and Orion's steady presence, she felt the weight of it transforming. Someday wasn't a dream anymore. It was here, now, breathing and alive.
She glanced at Orion, who was leaning against his bike, his face illuminated by the soft moonlight. "Do you feel it too?" she asked quietly, her voice almost lost in the breeze. "This... this is l'amour che move il sole e l'altre stelle—the love that moves the sun and the other stars."
Orion smiled, a slow, easy smile that warmed her more than the thick jacket she wore. "Elysia," he said, his voice low and steady, "even the mountains know it. Look at them—they're standing taller just for us tonight."
She laughed softly, the sound blending with the rustling leaves. "A fairy tale," she mused, "but not the perfect kind. It's a little quirky, a little messy, but it's ours."
"Exactly," he said, his eyes fixed on her. "And maybe, just maybe, true love runs smoother than we think—when it's written by the right hands and hearts."
In that quiet mountain stillness, with stars watching over them, Elysia felt it in her bones—this was her modern-day fairy tale.