The silence of dawn settled over the garden, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves as a faint breeze swept through. Anna Lumino knelt in the dewy grass, her heart pounding as she took in the sight before her. The stranger lay still now, his eyes closed, his body unmoving. In his final moment, he had whispered a single word—a name. A name that felt heavy with significance, as if it carried the weight of destiny itself.
"Luna…"
Anna's gaze shifted to the tiny bundle cradled in the man's arms. A baby, no more than a day old, lay nestled against him, her face serene and peaceful amidst the blood-stained cloth. Gently, Anna reached out, lifting the child from the man's arms. Her fingers brushed against the baby's forehead, and she froze as she noticed a faint mark there—a delicate crescent moon, almost glowing in the dim light of dawn.
The baby stirred in her arms, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a pair of deep, crimson eyes. Anna gasped softly, her heart tightening as those eyes met hers. There was something unearthly about them, a sense of knowing far beyond the comprehension of a newborn.
"Luna…" Anna whispered the name, feeling its weight settle over her, binding her to the child in a way she couldn't explain. She glanced back at the man lying motionless among the roses, a strange mixture of sorrow and awe filling her chest. Whoever he was, he had given everything to bring this child to her, to ensure her safety.
With a steadying breath, Anna held Luna close, wrapping the child's blanket more securely around her. "You're safe now," she murmured, her voice gentle but filled with resolve. "I don't know where you came from, or who he was… but I promise, I'll protect you."
She stood, casting one last look at the man before turning toward the mansion. She would send for help to lay him to rest, to honor his final act of devotion. But for now, her focus was on the child in her arms—the child who, for reasons beyond her understanding, felt as if she belonged to her.
Inside the mansion, James Lumino paced anxiously in his study. He had heard the soft shuffle of Anna's footsteps as she slipped out into the garden before dawn, but she had not yet returned. The house was quiet, but something in the air felt… different. A strange tension hummed through him, filling him with an inexplicable sense of anticipation.
He looked up at the sound of the study door opening, his gaze meeting Anna's as she stepped inside. His breath caught at the sight of the small bundle in her arms, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Anna?" he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and concern. "What… what is this?"
Anna crossed the room, her expression filled with a strange, determined tenderness. She carefully lifted the cloth, revealing the baby's face. Crimson eyes blinked sleepily up at them, framed by a soft mess of dark hair. James stared, his gaze shifting from the child to the faint crescent-shaped mark on her forehead.
"There was a man," Anna began, her voice soft but steady. "I found him in the garden… He was hurt, bleeding, and…" She took a breath, her gaze dropping to the baby. "He didn't survive. But before he died, he told me her name. Luna."
"Luna…" James repeated, the name rolling off his tongue as if it were a word he'd known all his life. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the crescent mark on the child's forehead. A faint warmth pulsed beneath his touch, an unspoken power that seemed to linger just beneath her skin. He pulled his hand back, meeting Anna's gaze.
"There's something unusual about her," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and caution. "That mark… it's no ordinary birthmark."
Anna nodded, her grip on Luna tightening protectively. "I know. But James… I don't think it matters. This child… she was brought to us for a reason. I feel it. He wanted her to be safe, and now… I feel as though she's meant to be here, with us."
James studied Anna's face, noting the quiet determination in her eyes, the way she held Luna as if the child were her own. He knew the longing his wife carried in her heart, the yearning for a child they had yet to be blessed with. And now, standing before him, she held this mysterious infant as if she were a precious gift.
"Are you sure, Anna?" he asked softly, his voice gentle. "There may be more to this child than we know. This… it could bring trouble."
Anna looked down at Luna, her heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness she hadn't realized she was capable of. "I'm certain, James," she replied, her voice unwavering. "This child was brought to us for a purpose. I can't explain it, but I know it in my heart. She's ours now. I feel it."
James was silent for a long moment, his gaze shifting from Anna to Luna. He could sense the weight of destiny that seemed to surround the child, a destiny that felt both wondrous and foreboding. But he also saw the hope in his wife's eyes, the love that had already blossomed within her heart.
Finally, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Then we'll protect her," he said quietly. "We'll raise her as our own, no matter what may come."
Anna's face softened, relief washing over her as she leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Luna's forehead. "Welcome home, little Luna," she whispered. "You're safe now."
Luna blinked up at her, silent and watchful, her tiny hand reaching out to grasp Anna's finger. In that moment, a bond was formed, a bond that transcended blood, a bond forged by fate and sealed by love.
In the days that followed, Anna and James worked tirelessly to care for Luna, shielding her from prying eyes and keeping her presence within the mansion a secret. Anna arranged for the man in the garden to be buried in a quiet, unmarked grave, honoring his sacrifice with a small ceremony. She never learned his name, nor did she uncover the mystery of his connection to Luna, but she kept his memory alive in her heart as she watched over the child.
As Luna grew, Anna and James began to notice small peculiarities—moments when Luna's crimson eyes would seem to see things beyond the walls of the mansion, flashes of energy that pulsed beneath her skin when she was agitated. The crescent mark on her forehead remained, a constant reminder of the mystery that surrounded her, a mystery that neither Anna nor James could fully understand.
But whatever secrets Luna carried, whatever dangers lay ahead, they had made a promise—a promise to protect her, to raise her as their own, and to love her with all their hearts. She was theirs now, a child bound to them by fate and by the silent blessing of the man who had entrusted her to them.
For now, she was simply their daughter, a miracle found among the roses, a child whose presence brought both joy and a quiet sense of anticipation. And as Anna watched Luna sleep, her tiny hand wrapped around her mother's finger, she felt a fierce determination settle within her.
Whatever awaited them, whatever challenges the future held, she would stand by Luna. She would protect her, nurture her, and help her find her way in the world.
And someday, when the time was right, she would tell her the story of the man who had whispered her name, the man who had given his life to ensure her safety. The man who, with his final breath, had entrusted Luna to her care on that fateful night—the night of the crescent moon.