New York City. 11:42 PM.
The rain fell hard that night. It felt like the city itself was grieving.
In a quiet corner of Saint Grace Hospital, Mira Rivelle sat on the edge of a hospital bed, her fingers trembling slightly. Her eyes were red, but she didn't bother to wipe the tears anymore. She just stared at her lap — quiet, empty, waiting.
Across the room, Matteo Rivelle stood by the window, motionless, watching the rain trail down the glass like unspoken words.
The doctor's voice still echoed in the air.
> "We've tried everything… I'm sorry. It's unlikely you'll ever have a child of your own."
Mira finally spoke, her voice almost broken.
> "I don't want to go home. Not like this. Not to that quiet apartment again."
Matteo turned, his jaw tight but gentle.
> "Then let's not go home just yet," he said. "Let's drive. Anywhere. Just to be out of this silence."
So they did.
---
🗑️ Later that night…
Somewhere far from the glowing hospital signs, in a forgotten alley behind a junkyard, something cried.
A baby.
Soft, hoarse, barely louder than the rain, but real — a weak, aching sound no one else seemed to hear.
Except them.
Matteo slowed the car as they passed the alley.
> "Wait," he said, sharply. "Do you hear that?"
Mira leaned forward, her heart skipping. There it was — a whimpering cry, faint and lost in the storm.
They got out. No umbrellas. No hesitation. Just instinct pulling them forward.
Behind a broken fence, next to an old dumpster, lay a tiny figure — wrapped in wet cloth, shivering in the cold. A baby girl, alone in the dark.
Mira gasped and ran to her, dropping to her knees.
> "Oh my God… she's freezing."
She scooped the baby into her coat, gently brushing mud from her cheek. Her skin was ice cold, her lips pale — but she was breathing.
And then — something strange.
> Her eyes opened.
For just a second, they were deep brown — then flickered to a stormy gray, and finally a soft violet before closing again.
Mira blinked, startled.
> "Matteo… did you see that?"
He nodded slowly, kneeling beside her. "Her eyes changed."
But the baby didn't cry anymore. She simply looked at them, calm… almost as if she knew them.
Mira cradled her tighter, her voice breaking.
> "She's not just a baby. She's a sign. She's ours."
---
🏠 Back at the Rivelle Home
They didn't call the police. They didn't ask questions.
In their hearts, they already knew — this child was meant to find them.
At home, Mira gently bathed the baby while Matteo warmed towels. The girl had soft black hair, tiny fingers, and delicate, pale skin. Mira dried her gently, speaking softly like a lullaby.
> "You were so strong out there… so quiet, like you were waiting."
They dressed her in a tiny white onesie — one Mira had bought years ago, and never had the chance to use. Matteo returned with a little blanket, wrapping her carefully.
> "What will we call her?" he asked.
Mira didn't hesitate. Her hand brushed the baby's hair, and for a brief moment — her eyes flickered open again.
A swirl of moon-silver and gold.
> "Luna," Mira whispered. "She's our moonlight in the dark."
> "Luna Rivelle," Matteo repeated. "Our daughter."
And as if she understood, the baby blinked once… and gave the smallest smile.
Outside, the rain still fell. But inside the Rivelle home, something had changed forever.
---
Would you like to continue with Chapter 2 — when Luna starts growing up and her powers start to slowly appear?