I spent days tirelessly searching the house. My heart heavy with the weight of loss, I began to lose hope in ever unraveling the enigma of my parents' mysterious past. The once familiar halls of our family home seemed to mock me with their silence, concealing any trace of the lives they had led. But in the depths of my despair, a faint glimmer of hope beckoned me to continue my quest.

It had now been twelve days since I had first gotten here,  and as I meandered through the desolate rooms, a subtle breeze whispered against my skin, rousing me from my melancholy reverie. It was a gentle caress, guiding me with invisible hands toward an unexplored corner of the house. Intrigued, I followed the ethereal trail, my pulse quickening with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

The winding path led me to a hidden staircase concealed behind an elaborate tapestry, its intricate patterns hinting at untold secrets woven within the fabric of time. How had I never noticed what was behind the tapestry in the house all these years? Nothing made sense as I recalled summers hiding from Damon behind this very cloth as I stifled nervous giggles while he searched frantically. With trembling fingers, I brushed aside the heavy curtain, revealing a passage that seemed to pulsate with the allure of the unknown. It was as if the house itself yearned to share its forgotten stories.

Ascending the narrow stairs, each creaking step echoing through the hushed corridors, I felt a palpable sense of anticipation. The air grew heavier, infused with a heady mix of anticipation and ancient whispers. At last, I reached the summit and stood before a weathered door, its faded paint bearing the scars of countless years gone by.

With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, I turned the worn doorknob, its rusty hinges protesting as the door swung open to reveal a hidden attic bathed in soft, ethereal light. Sunbeams danced through the dust-laden air, casting ephemeral patterns upon forgotten relics and forgotten dreams.

As I crossed the threshold, a symphony of scents enveloped me—the musty aroma of old books, the faint scent of fading memories, and the bittersweet perfume of nostalgia. It was a space suspended in time, a sanctuary where fragments of the past lay dormant, yearning to be awakened.

The attic was a trove of forgotten treasures, each item a fragment of a story waiting to be discovered. Trunks lined the walls, their contents cloaked in layers of age and neglect. Delicate lace dresses whispered of bygone eras, worn leather-bound journals beckoned with their untold secrets, and sepia-toned photographs immortalized moments of joy and love.

Every step I took stirred the dormant energy of the room, as if the spirits of my ancestors stirred from their slumber. I reached out, tracing my fingertips over faded photographs, feeling a surge of connection as I glimpsed the smiling faces of my parents. Their eyes, filled with love and unspoken dreams, gazed back at me from the confines of the past.

A sense of reverence washed over me as I stumbled upon a weathered wooden chest nestled in a forgotten corner. Its surface bore the marks of time, etchings of memories etched upon its weathered exterior. With trembling hands, I opened the chest, revealing a trove of memories and secrets long forgotten.

Inside, a kaleidoscope of emotions awaited. Handwritten letters, ink faded with time, unfolded stories of love, loss, and unyielding devotion. The words danced before my eyes, breathing life into my parents' voices, their hopes, and their dreams. It was as if I held a piece of their souls in my hands, connecting me to a past I had never fully understood.

Among the letters, I discovered journals—a glimpse into the depths of my mother's heart and the tapestry of her thoughts. Each page was a portal into her world, her words like whispers of a forgotten melody that resonated within my soul.

But it was the locket that captured my attention, nestled in a bed of aged velvet. Its rose gold surface glimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, as if it held the key to a hidden realm. As I held it in my hands, a strange familiarity washed over me, tinged with a sense of longing I couldn't quite place. I felt like I remembered it, or that somehow I had seen it in my dreams long ago. I tried to open it, but to no avail, my movements only managed to make the moonstone embedded within its frame dance against the small stream of sunlight pushing through the attic window.

The locket bore intricate engravings—a crescent moon intertwined with delicate floral patterns. Its weight felt both familiar and foreign, its essence a riddle I couldn't decipher. There was an undeniable connection, an invisible thread that bound me to its secrets. But try as I might, I couldn't recall why.

Questions swirled in my mind, a maelstrom of curiosity and confusion. What significance did this locket hold? How did it fit into the secrets of my parents' lives? And why did its essence resonate so deeply within me?

In that attic, amidst the forgotten relics and untold stories, I knew that the journey to uncover the truth had only just begun. The locket, like a key to hidden chambers of my own existence, beckoned me to embark on a path shrouded in mystery and revelation. With each passing moment, the ties that bound me to my past grew stronger, pulling me deeper into a world where the secrets of my family whispered in the shadows, waiting to be unveiled.

The boxes, stacked haphazardly against the walls, beckoned to me, their contents tantalizingly out of reach. I reached out with trembling hands, pulling back the veil of years and unveiling fragments of the past. Each item held a story, a connection to the life my parents once lived. A tattered photograph, frozen smiles captured in a moment of pure joy. Damon's worn-out teddy bear, its fur matted with love and comfort. Each discovery brought a bittersweet blend of nostalgia and longing, aching reminders of the love that was taken from me.

And then, as if guided by an invisible hand, I stumbled upon a worn, leather-bound diary. It lay nestled within a forgotten box, its pages yellowed with age and the weight of untold stories. I cradled it in my hands, its cover cool against my fingertips, and felt a tremor of anticipation course through me.

Carefully, almost reverently, I opened the diary to the first page. The delicate scent of ink and memories wafted up, transporting me to a time when my parents' laughter filled the air. The entries chronicled the ordinary moments of a young woman's life, the dreams and desires that filled her heart. The inked words danced across the page, painting a vivid portrait of a world long since lost. My mother's life before my father, Damon, and myself. A world I had so little knowledge of. A huff left my lips, if only I had known that they would all be taken from me so soon, maybe I would have spent more time getting to know the real them. 

But as I ventured deeper into the diary, the tone shifted, the words taking on an air of secrecy and urgency. The diary became a portal into a hidden world, where my parents were guardians of an ancient legacy. It spoke of prophecies and a bond with the moon, words that stirred a flicker of recognition within my soul. It sounded like the songs they sang to us as children here. Perhaps she used these writings as inspiration for the songs that had filled the chilly summer nights by the fireside with blankets and smores. 

Confusion washed over me as I read the final entries, written during the time my mother carried my older brother within her womb. The words spoke of dangers lurking in the shadows, of a pack and a need to protect our family's lineage. I was perplexed by the references to the pack, unable to reconcile the term with anything other than a close-knit family unit.

Yet, there was an undeniable familiarity to the words, a feeling that this hidden world was intertwined with my own existence. The moon, a celestial force, held a significant role in my family's history, Mom referenced that so many times within the last few entries in particular. "She is a beacon, guiding our steps and shaping our destinies", I read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper and sounding more fragile than I would care to admit. The diary hinted at a legacy, a connection to something greater than ourselves, yet the full truth eluded me, teasing at the edges of my consciousness. Who is the 'she' that my mother was referring to? I shook my head, red locks of hair covering my face in the process, it wouldn't be a reference to me as the time stamp written on the page meant I would not be born for another three years. 

As I delved deeper into my mother's diary, the confusion within me grew like a tangled web. Her words, once familiar and comforting, now took on an air of obsession and mystery. The moon, a constant presence in her writings, became a source of both fascination and bewilderment. Why did she speak of the moon with such reverence, as if it held some hidden power over our lives? What was it about that celestial orb that captured her heart and consumed her thoughts?

With each passage, my confusion deepened. My mother's words were filled with an unwavering belief in the moon's influence, as if it held the key to our family's destiny. But I struggled to grasp the significance, to comprehend how something so distant and celestial could hold such sway over our lives. It was a puzzle I couldn't decipher, a riddle that eluded my grasp.

Was it possible that my mother's connection to the moon went beyond mere fascination? Did she know something I didn't, something hidden within the depths of our lineage? The diary offered glimpses of a secret world, one where the moon played a pivotal role, but the answers remained frustratingly out of reach.

As I held the locket in my hands, its cool metal pressing against my palm, I couldn't shake the feeling of being caught between two worlds. The moon, with its ethereal glow and mysterious allure, had become a source of both wonder and confusion. It tugged at the edges of my consciousness, urging me to seek the truth, to unravel the threads that bound our family to its luminous embrace.

But for now, the moon remained an mystery, its secrets locked away in the depths of my mother's diary. The confusion gnawed at my core, fueling my determination to uncover the truth, to understand the significance of the moon's pull on our lives. With each passing moment, I felt the weight of the unanswered questions grow, propelling me forward on a path that would lead me to confront the mysteries that lay hidden within the lunar legacy.

The locket, that glimmering symbol of the moon's influence, burned with an unspoken power. It held the answers I sought, concealed within its delicate engravings and hidden compartments. But the questions lingered, the mysteries unfathomable. Why had my parents left clues behind? What was the true nature of the pack and the moon's role in our lives? And most importantly, how did I fit into this intricate tapestry of fate and prophecy?

In that moment, as the weight of the past settled upon my shoulders, I knew I had embarked on a journey that would reshape my understanding of the world. The attic, once a forgotten space, had become a sanctuary of possibility, offering glimpses of a heritage shrouded in mystery and magic.

With the locket clasped tightly in my hand, I made a silent vow to uncover the truth, to unravel the secrets that bound my family's legacy to the moon. I spent the rest of the evening in the attic until the sun's faded beams stopped light trickling through the window, and my eyes grew weary. Frustrated that I had not found anything related to the locket in the chests, I begrudgingly picked myself off of the dusty wooden floor and called it a day. Tomorrow would provide me with another opportunity to explore the attics hidden secrets. 

The porch creaked beneath me, its weathered boards offering a comforting familiarity. As I settled into the aged wooden chair, the world around me seemed to hold its breath, as if attuned to the ethereal symphony about to unfold. The waning light of the setting sun bathed the landscape in hues of fiery gold, casting long shadows that danced with anticipation.

In my hands, I cradled my father's guitar, its weathered surface a testament to the countless hours he had poured into mastering its strings. Each groove and scratch told a story, a silent witness to the melodies that once filled our home. With trembling fingers, I traced the contours of the instrument, seeking solace in its familiar touch. Though grief and confusion still wracked my mind and body every waking moment in solitude, I found solace in being surrounded by my parent's belongings and the wolves who wandered by the house each night. 

As the first chord reverberated through the air, a surge of emotions washed over me. The melody emerged, gentle at first, like a whispered promise. Each strum of the strings felt like a connection to a world beyond, an unseen realm where ancient secrets were woven into the fabric of existence.

With closed eyes, I surrendered to the music, allowing it to carry me to a place where time ceased to exist. The lyrics tumbled forth, their words pregnant with newfound meaning, weaving a tale of a child of the moon, chosen by destiny to traverse a path fraught with both peril and purpose. All along my mother and father had woven her own words into a song I thought long ago just to be a forgotten fairytale. 

"Child of the moon, bound by celestial ties, Whispers of destiny, in your starlit eyes. Through veils of shadows, your path unfolds, A tapestry woven with secrets untold."

The words resonated within me, stirring a sense of profound longing and curiosity. It was as if the song now possessed a life of its own, a new meaning, urging me to dive deeper into its enigmatic depths. With each verse, the melody grew in intensity, its notes carrying the weight of a legacy I had yet to fully comprehend.

In the midst of the haunting melody, a sudden snap shattered the tranquility of the evening. My heart skipped a beat, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I turned my gaze toward the source of the sound, fear and curiosity warring within me. But then, like a guardian emerging from the shadows, the black wolf stepped into the fading light, his amber eyes reflecting the fading rays of the sun.

A smile curved my lips as relief flooded through me. The presence of the black wolf, so familiar and yet mysterious, reassured me in ways I couldn't explain. It was as if he had come to witness this deeply personal moment, to lend his silent support to the words carried by the wind.

Undeterred by the interruption, I continued my song, my voice trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and strength. With each strum of the guitar, I poured my heart into the verses, my voice rising and falling with the ebb and flow of the melody. The song spoke of sacrifice, of love transcending boundaries, and of a destiny written in the stars.

And as the final chords echoed through the twilight, a profound stillness settled upon the surroundings. The last notes hung in the air, shimmering like a delicate web spun by fate itself. It was in that suspended moment that I felt the weight of a thousand eyes upon me.

With hesitant anticipation, I opened my eyes, taking in the scene that unfolded before me. The black wolf, now joined by others, encircled the porch, their majestic forms blending seamlessly with the shadows of the encroaching night. Their eyes, wise and ageless, locked with mine, as if peering into the very core of my being.

There was a palpable energy in the air, crackling with anticipation. It felt as though the boundaries between worlds had thinned, as though the veil separating the mundane from the extraordinary had been lifted. The wolves, guardians of an ancient pact, seemed to recognize the significance of this moment, as if they were heralding a new chapter in the lunar legacy, in my families secret legacy. 

I watched in awe as each wolf lifted their head to watch as the first rays of the moon broke through the darkening night sky. A surreal chorus of howls rose from their throats. I sensed both celebration and warning in their song, perhaps warning other predators close by that this pack owned this particular territory. It was a harmonious convergence of wild voices, but also an acknowledgment of my presence in their realm. The sound enveloped me, sending shivers cascading down my spine. To me, It was a reminder that my journey was just beginning, that there were untold secrets and untamed forces awaiting my awakening.

And as the echoes of their howls faded into the night as did they, I sat there, embraced by the mystique of the moonlit world, forever changed. The weight of my parents' untold secrets and the allure of the moon's ancient wisdom hung in the air, fueling my determination to uncover the truth that lay hidden within the depths of the attic. 

With newfound determination I decided to retrieve my mother's journal to scour its depths one last time before the morning. I stepped back into the house and made my way down its dark hallways the candle in my hand throwing shadows against the cream walls. My heart was pounding with a mix of curiosity and determination.  As I approached the tapestry that concealed the door to the hidden depths of the attic, a wave of anticipation washed over me. I reached out, my fingers trembling, and carefully pulled the fabric aside.

But as I did, the tapestry slipped from my grasp, cascading to the ground in a soft heap. Startled, I knelt down to pick it up, my gaze drawn to the intricate stitching that adorned its surface. The dim light my candle provided casted an ethereal glow upon the fabric. And that's when I noticed it—a subtle shimmer, as if the threads were kissed by moonlight.

My curiosity piqued, I couldn't resist the urge to investigate further. I didn't have enough light or space to investigate the piece of art here so, the tapestry in my hands, I made my way outside, where the moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow upon the world. As the moonlight bathed the tapestry, a transformation began to unfold before my eyes.

The pearlescent lining that outlined the moon seemed to come alive, radiating a soft luminescence. And there, in front of the glowing moon, a figure emerged—a young woman walking beside a magnificent white wolf. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized her—me. The flowing red hair, the unmistakable blue eyes—it was an image of myself, woven into the fabric of the tapestry.

Awe and confusion surged through me in equal measure. How could this be? The tapestry had always hung there, an old family heirloom, never revealing its secrets until now. The image of me walking beside the wolf was both beautiful and unsettling, evoking a sense of destiny and connection I couldn't quite comprehend.

I held the tapestry close, feeling its delicate texture against my skin. It was as if the threads themselves whispered ancient tales, secrets long forgotten. The moon and the wolves—the symbols that had haunted my family's history, now intertwined with my own.

Questions flooded my mind, begging for answers. What did this image mean? Was there a hidden message within its threads, a purpose I was meant to fulfill? The wolves, the moon—they had always called to my mother as she stated in her journal, but now they seemed to reach out from the tapestry, urging me to embrace her legacy as something that may now be directly linked to me.

Confusion knotted within me. Why had my mother been so captivated by the moon and the wolves? And what did it mean for me, for our family? As I stared at the tapestry, I felt a stirring of determination, a fire ignited within me. I was determined to uncover the truth, to unravel the mystery that lay within my blood.

With the tapestry in my hands, I whispered into the night, my voice filled with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Who am I? What role do I play in this tapestry? The moon and the wolves beckon my family? There is a story woven within these threads, and it's time for me to uncover it."

The moon cast its ethereal light upon me, bathing me in its glow. In that moment, a newfound resolve surged through me. I would embark on a journey—a journey to embrace my heritage, to understand the legacy that had been passed down through generations. The tapestry had unveiled a fragment of my story, and I was determined to find the rest. For that, I may need to go back to my family home I realised. Perhaps Damon would be there when I arrived back, and then he could help answer the unfathomable amount of questions swirling in my mind. 

As I stood there, holding the tapestry, I felt a sense of purpose welling up inside me—a purpose that went beyond the confines of my everyday life. The moon, the wolves—they held the key to a part of me was waiting to be discovered. I was ready to step into the unknown, to unravel the secrets that lay hidden within the fabric of time.

With the tapestry clutched tightly in my hands, I gazed up at the moon, its light guiding my path. A surge of anticipation filled my being as I embarked on this journey of self-discovery. The tapestry had awakened something within me—a yearning for truth, a hunger for understanding. And with every step I took to bed that night, I felt closer to unravelling the enigmatic tapestry of my own existence. Tomorrow, I would go home and hopefully uncover more truths rather than questions like I had been lately. 

                                                                 *****************

Dear readers,

First of all, only a day into writing and I am trending in the "intriguing" tag! Thank you so much! So a short note;

Chapter Two of "The Lunar Legacy" has unveiled a breathtaking moment that will leave you craving more. As Scarlet uncovers a hidden tapestry in her parents' attic, a stunning image emerges—a young woman with flowing red hair, walking beside a white wolf under the moon's watchful gaze. It is Scarlet herself, entwined with the moon and the wolves in a mesmerizing tapestry of fate.

I invite you to join Scarlet on this extraordinary journey. Vote on this chapter and let your voice be heard. Share your thoughts and theories as we explore the depths of Scarlet's enigmatic connection to the moon. Your engagement and support mean the world to me, and I can't wait to hear your insights on this pivotal moment.

Embrace the allure of the moon and immerse yourself in the magic of "The Lunar Legacy."

With gratitude, 

Shann Writes