Eclipsia's sky used to have three moons. That night… there was a fourth.
Not a real moon, but a circular scar suspended in the firmament.
Pale. Flickering.
Like an eye that didn't know how to blink.
—
Sera and I didn't speak. We didn't need to. We both felt it:
Something was watching us.
Not from the forest.
But from the script itself.
—
When we returned to the cabin, the inside had changed. Not physically.
But every object was slightly… off.
As if someone had imitated our reality without fully understanding it.
—
I sat down, opened the journal, and flipped to the last written page.
A new sentence had appeared. A message.
> "Actors who notice the play must either leave the stage… or remain forever."
—
Sera read in silence, then looked up.
"You're crossing a threshold, Ryouhei. You're no longer just an extra."
"Then what am I?"
She stared at me for a long moment.
"An error… that hasn't yet decided whether it'll save us or destroy us."
—
We didn't sleep that night.
The fourth moon watched us from its crack in the sky.
And every time it blinked… a possibility vanished.