The Weight of Salt and Serenity**
It was Bulan's first day sharing close quarters with a man—a man who treated life like a playground and the ship like his personal buffet. By evening, as the sun dipped low, her patience frayed.
Dinner on the deck revealed Alex devouring provisions at the stern, his appetite voracious. Bulan watched, arms crossed, as he shoveled rice into his mouth.
" just three hours, and you're already eating like a starved seagull," she muttered.
Alex replied through a mouthful, his words garbled. "Mfft-ssshhrrp."
"What? Speak like a human, not a walrus!"
He shrugged, unfazed, and reached for another fish.
Bulan stormed to Siria at the helm. "He's eating like a pig! Our supplies won't last a week!"
Siria burst into laughter, the sound echoing over the waves. "Oh, *Your Majesty*—you've got to unclench. We'll restock in Potaxie. Save the stress for actual storms."
"But the Lunarians—"
"The Lunarians," Siria cut in, her tone softening, "aren't helpless. You armed them with knowledge. Trust them to wield it."
"And him?" Bulan jabbed a finger at Alex.
"Let him eat. The sea's taught me this: fret over tides, not men."
Bulan huffed, retreating to her cabin. The irony stung—Siria, her ally, siding with this gluttonous stranger. She buried herself in a book, its pages whispering of moonlit strategies, while the ship creaked and the waves lapped at secrets yet untold.
Moments later, Alex found Bulan fuming in the cabin, her composure shattered.
"What's your deal, weirdo?" he asked, tossing a patched-up pillow onto the bunk.
"I'm the weirdo? Look in a mirror! You eat like a hog, sleep like a hog—you are a hog!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice rigging.
Alex grinned, unfazed. "Sure, sure. Princess Perfect over here, so kind and generous."
A pillow hurtled toward his face. "Drop dead," Bulan hissed, storming out.
'What's her problem? Acting possessed or something' , Alex thought, rubbing his nose.
—
Because stressed out, Bulan then go to the deck for peaceful purposes. On deck, Bulan gripped the ship's telescope, her anger dissolving into wonder. The sea sprawled endlessly, flecked with ships bearing vibrant flags, fishermen casting lines into the glittering blue. "It's… breathtaking," she murmured. "On the moon, they called Earth a hellscape. But this… this is paradise."
"Told you it'd be worth it," Siria said, appearing beside her.
Bulan jumped. "ahh Siri, how are u doing over here? Shouldn't you be steering the ship?"
"Alex took the wheel. Claims he needs 'practice.'" she lying, it's just.... because Alex wanna sleeping after meal so, she just make sure he is useful.
"And you trust him?"
Siria shrugged. "Met him years ago. Helped me navigate a storm. Forgot his face, not his ego."
"Yet you let him eat like a starved wolf," Bulan muttered.
Siria laughed. "He's always been a glutton. But why're you so riled?"
"He's… insufferable! Like a moon-pig!"
"Moon-pig?"
"Yes. Giant, glittering beasts that devour crops and cause chaos. We worship them as solar deities. Ironically."
Siria smirked. "So you've got holy hogs? Sounds like Alex fits right in."
Bulan groaned, but a smile tugged her lips. The sea breeze carried their laughter, weaving it into the salt and spray.
"Wait—those moon-pigs ate people? That's insane!" Siria's eyes widened, her voice rising above the creak of the ship.
"Once," Bulan replied, her gaze distant. "Before we worshipped the Sun Gods. Now, their blood purifies our temples. Only 2% remain—precious, almost extinct. We're trying to breed them back."
"Brutal… but kinda epic." Siria grinned, then sobered. "What did your people worship before the Sun Gods?"
"Me." Bulan's voice tightened. "Lunaria, the Moon Princess. I never wanted prayers—just to protect them."
Siria opened her mouth, but a thunderclap split the sky. Dark clouds loomed, ink spilled across the horizon. "Rain's coming. I will help Alex to drop the sails! And you go to kill the turbo engine—now!"
Bulan hurried below deck, her hands trembling as she shut down the humming machinery. Above, Siria rang the storm bell, its clang echoing across the waves. Ships behind them slowed, anchors plunging into the churning sea.
But the storm surged faster—a wall of blackness swallowing the light. Bulan crouched beneath a bunk, her breath ragged. This wasn't just any tempest. It was Gorhon reborn—the storm that had scoured her moon, leaving half its cities in ruins. She could almost hear the screams again, the crack of lunar crust splitting open.
"Bulan!" Siria's shout pierced the chaos. "We need weight on the stern—now!"
But Bulan couldn't move. The shadows coiled around her, alive with memory. Gorhon's teeth. Gorhon's hunger. But because it's really haunting her, so she help and sacrifice once again, she think.
On deck, Alex wrestled the sails, his laughter long gone. "Where's your.... Bitch?" he snarled at Siria.
"Fighting ghosts, ho. Just kidding, she is shutting down the turbo, just focusing on what we should do, " she hissed back, tying off a rope. "Now pull!"
The ship groaned, wood straining as the storm roared—a beast from the moon's darkest legends, here to finish what it started.