The first moon. The first horn. The first light.

One of the Seven had awakened, casting its silver glow upon the world below. It offered guidance for mortals, strength to the beings of the Lunar Realm, and power to the one they cherished above all—Libulan, their secluded and sacred moon god.

For the deities of the moon, this moonrise marked more than nightfall. It heralded the approach of the ritual where Libulan would ascend as the Guardian of the Seven Moons, a role untouched by gods and held only by moon goddesses in ages past.

Tonight, preparations blanketed the realm in eager song and shimmer. Regalia glistened, prayers were whispered, and moonstones chosen carefully. Elders halted their lectures, and even the lunar archives fell silent.

But at the center of it all, Libulan remained in his high palace, distant and untouched by the world's joy.

He was the heart of their ceremonies, yet he had never attended one.

Hidden from the rest of the divine realms, Libulan was a god unseen. None outside the residing deities of the Lunar Realm had heard his voice or beheld his face. It was because a sacred veil hid his features, whether in solitude or in the presence of the moon priestesses and his moon people. The only signs of his divinity were his presence during rites and the power he radiated during full moons. To most, he was myth more than god—a living echo of the guardian lost long ago.

Inside his chamber, the moon god turned a page in his tome of celestial rituals. He was used to the silence, the dust-covered letters of invitation, the distance.

This was the life shaped for him.

This was all he had known.

But today, something strange pierced through the stillness.

"You don't want to play outside?"

The voice did not belong to any of the goddesses. It was masculine, amused, and bold. Libulan didn't flinch. He had heard whispers before, strange presences watching from afar. But this one was closer. He could see it in the dainty mirror across the room: a figure perched on the windowsill, smirking as though he belonged there.

"If you were a moon goddess, you would know intruding here is strictly forbidden," Libulan said, calm but firm. "And if you're not one of us... then you shouldn't be here at all."

The stranger grinned, resting his chin on his arms. "Uh-huh, book smart indeed." His voice had the charm of a trickster and the weight of something older.

"What if I planned to tear your core from your body?" he teased, stretching lazily. "Break you into stardust and offer your bones to the sea monsters below?"

"If you intended that," Libulan replied flatly, "you would've done it already."

The god's laughter echoed like rolling thunder. "Sharp-tongued, aren't we?" he said. "Even after all those years cooped up reading about divine etiquette."

He leaned in, sharp-clawed fingers snapping Libulan's book shut.

Libulan's breath caught—not in fear, but in the strange, burning curiosity that bloomed in his chest.

And then, the god whispered beside his ear, "I've been watching you since the beginning."

The moon god's body shivered; he had not heard any gods speak to him that way nor heard them speak to each other. He rarely attends and accepts the invitation to the Sky Realm, where most gods reside.

The veil rustled as he turned away, retreating toward the chamber's entrance, but the stranger was faster.

He wrapped an arm around Libulan's waist and leapt from the window.

"What are you doing? Unhand me—my veil! The wind is—!"

"Hold on to it!" the god laughed wildly. "And hold on to me."

The sky blurred around them. Stars streaked. Libulan, who had never flown without ceremony, had never fallen freely through the sky. He struggled at first, fumbling for his crown-like veil and trying to cast a warning spell.

"I will call upon the moons," Libulan warned, palm outstretched.

"No need for that," the god said, clasping Libulan's hands gently. "I'm not stealing you. I'm borrowing you," and before the moon god could argue further, they plummeted into what looked like the mouth of a beast—the Lake of Laya.

But instead of sinking, they landed softly, standing atop the lake's surface as though it were solid earth.

Admittedly, Libulan embraced impact, but he was surprised that the waters remained still, something that fascinated the moon god, an occurrence he had never read among the scrolls.

"You've never seen this place, have you?" the stranger god asked, his eyes glinting like blood moons in daylight.

Libulan did not notice he was clinging to the god's robes, so he quickly released his grip, stepping back with flushed cheeks before clearing his throat. "You abducted me. I should cast you a binding spell and throw you over the Kasanaan."

The stranger tilted his head. "Well... something about you looking around despite that veil hanging on your face tells me that you like this place."

Libulan didn't answer. Indeed, his attention was elsewhere... on the lake, the forest, the living things, and the overwhelming sensation of everything he had never experienced nor found in his writings.

The world bloomed around him; he could feel the breeze flowing freely from all over and within his body, hear how the sea whispers his name as if calling him home, and see the serene sky greeting him with fondness—everything is... living.

"Where are we?" he whispered, curious yet cautious at the same time.

"My sanctuary. The Lake of Laya, home to all mythical creatures ever born and created," said the god, following closely yet maintaining his distance as he observed the moon god, looking around as if it were his first time living or seeing what living really is. "Hidden from the sky, the lower realms, even the other moons. No one comes here unless I allow them."

Libulan slowly looked up at the god behind him. He had wild black hair tangled with bones and beads, eyes like coals burning underwater, and a scar splitting his upper lip.

He was nothing like the gods described in his books.

"What is your name?" Libulan asked.

"They call me many things," the god said, his touch lingering on the hem of the veil, soft but restrained, before withdrawing his hand to his back. "But you may call me... Bakunawa."

The name echoed. Something ancient stirred in Libulan's core, something lost to memory. Something is telling him that he is familiar with the name, yet he could not remember where he read that or even heard of it.

"I thought your name was 'Unholy Trespasser,'" Libulan said dryly, fixing his veil.

Bakunawa laughed. "You humor me a lot despite having nothing to do but flutter around your bahag, read mountains of scrolls, and sing prayers."

Libulan huffed, crossing his arms. "It is Libulan for you, God of the moons, soon to be Guardian of the Seven, a general, a scholar, a healer—everything that is not you." Bakunawa only chuckled at the sudden boast of titles and achievements; he has no qualms about it. Libulan is indeed what he claims to be.

"Ah, yes. Your guardianship ceremony," Bakunawa said, his smile fading into something more solemn. "That's why I brought you here."

The moon god blinked. "To... prevent it?"

"To give you one day of freedom," before the chains of duty are fastened forever, he wished to say.

Bakunawa turned away, giving Libulan space as the moon god began exploring the forest lake.

Soon, the young god called forth his sylphs—fairylike spirits that mirrored his soul. They lit the woods with silver light, and creatures emerged from the mist, drawn to Libulan's gentle nature. Bakunawa watched him quietly, remembering the child who once clung to life in the sea, the last survivor of a divine massacre.

Now grown, veiled, and cloistered—still unaware of who he once was.

"Are you coming?" Libulan asked, breaking his thoughts.

"Hm? To where?"

"The ceremony."

Bakunawa hesitated for a while, his eyes almost hinting at something... sadness maybe... He was uncertain, then smiled softly. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it, Libulan."

"You better not! I will have Mayari discipline you for stealing me away from my chambers," Libulan said while scratching the chin of a little dwarf, voice light with something almost like joy. The stranger god who named himself Bakunawa could only smile tenderly, not saying anything anymore.

As they laughed together beneath the moonlight, no prophecy, no lingering echo of the past.

And Libulan, in that fleeting moment, felt the freedom of a god who had not yet remembered.