The night was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that shrouds a world on the verge of a storm. A full moon hung in the sky, its silvery glow illuminating the dense forest below, casting long, twisting shadows. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches swaying slightly in the cool wind, as if whispering secrets to the night.

A lone figure, cloaked in black, dashed through the undergrowth, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He was injured, bleeding from deep cuts that stained his clothes and left a faint trail behind him. With every step, he stumbled, the pain in his side searing through him. Yet, he pressed on, clutching something close to his chest—a small bundle wrapped tightly in cloth.

The figure glanced down at the bundle in his arms, his gaze softening for a brief moment. A newborn baby, not more than a day old, lay nestled against him. Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft and steady, oblivious to the chaos around her. Her tiny fingers twitched, grasping at the air as if sensing the tension that filled the forest.

Behind him, the sound of footsteps grew louder, pounding through the silence like a drumbeat. The men pursuing him were closing in, their shadows flitting between the trees, closing the distance with every passing second. They, too, were cloaked in black, their faces obscured, but each wore a silver emblem—a butterfly, dark and ominous against the moonlight.

He recognized the emblem. The Outlaw, a clandestine organization that was whispered about in the darkest corners of society, feared for their merciless efficiency. The stories told of their ruthlessness, their allegiance to the highest bidder, and their near-mythical skill in tracking down their targets. Now, they hunted him—for reasons he dared not fully contemplate. And they would stop at nothing until they had taken the child.

He tightened his grip on the baby, whispering soft words of reassurance. "We're almost there," he murmured, though he wasn't certain of his words. "Just a little farther…"

The trees parted up ahead, revealing a small clearing bathed in the moon's glow. With the last of his strength, he staggered forward, his breaths shallow, each one sending a fresh wave of pain through his body. He knew he was running out of time; the footsteps behind him were getting closer, the shadows of his pursuers stretching across the clearing as they neared.

He halted in the middle of the clearing, lowering the baby to the ground with a tenderness that belied his urgency. For a moment, he studied her face, marveling at the tiny features, the soft curve of her cheeks, the slight upturn of her nose. A faint mark shimmered on her forehead, barely visible in the moonlight—a crescent moon, delicate and pale against her skin. He traced the outline with his finger, feeling a sense of wonder mingled with dread.

This child was special. He didn't fully understand the extent of her power, but he knew that the crescent mark was more than just a birthmark. It was a sign, a symbol of a power so rare and ancient that even the most seasoned elementalists would tremble at its potential. But with such power came danger, and he had been entrusted with one task—to protect her, to keep her hidden, until she was old enough to understand her own destiny.

He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a small, dark-blue stone, carved with intricate symbols that seemed to pulse with a faint light. It was a relic, passed down through generations, a key to a place beyond this world. The stone felt warm in his hand as he channeled the last of his mana into it, murmuring an incantation that made the air around him hum with energy.

A portal began to form, a shimmering doorway of light that flickered and pulsed, casting strange shadows across the clearing. Beyond the portal lay a sprawling mansion, its tall towers and arched windows glowing faintly in the distance. The gardens surrounding it were lush and vibrant, filled with roses of every color, their petals glistening under the moon's light. It was a place of beauty, a sanctuary hidden from the world—a place where the child might find safety.

The man staggered forward, clutching the stone as he moved toward the portal. His vision blurred, the edges of the world growing dim as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. He took a deep, shaky breath, willing himself to keep going, to take just a few more steps.

Behind him, a voice cut through the night, sharp and commanding. "Stop!"

He turned, his gaze meeting the eyes of his pursuers. There were five of them, standing at the edge of the clearing, their faces hidden beneath their hoods. One of them raised his hand, and a shaft of lightning crackled into existence, illuminating the clearing with a blinding flash. The man barely had time to react before the lightning struck him, searing through his body with a force that left him gasping.

He stumbled, his knees buckling as pain coursed through him. But he held onto the child, shielding her from the lightning's touch, even as his own strength began to fade. Blood trickled from his mouth as he forced himself to stand, his gaze fixed on the portal.

With one final surge of willpower, he stepped through, feeling the portal's magic envelop him, pulling him into the mansion's garden. As he crossed the threshold, the portal shimmered and closed behind him, leaving no trace of the path he had taken.

He sank to his knees, his vision fading, his strength finally giving out. The child lay beside him, her tiny fingers grasping at the grass, her face turned toward the moon. He smiled faintly, his heart filled with a strange sense of peace. He had done his duty. She was safe—at least for now.

As his vision darkened, he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching, soft and hesitant. A figure emerged from the shadows, a woman with crimson hair and eyes that gleamed like embers. She knelt beside him, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of the child.

"Who are you?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he managed a faint smile, his gaze shifting to the child one last time. With his final breath, he whispered a name—a name that would be hers alone, a name she would carry with her as a secret, a promise, and a legacy.

"Luna…"

And with that, he closed his eyes, his hand falling to the ground as silence reclaimed the night.