Lyra woke to darkness so complete it felt heavy. When she looked outside, the moon was gone—not hidden by clouds, but missing from the sky entirely. The silver feather on her windowsill flickered weakly, as if afraid.

A soft knock came at her door. Rowan stood there, pale and breathless. “Lyra… the moon didn’t just vanish. It was taken.” He held out a shard of glowing white stone. “This fell from the sky. It’s a piece of the Moon Temple.”