บท 1: The Night of the Crescent Moon

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.