Chapter Text
"THE WORLD WILL know you as popstars," Celine said, her voice low and resonant, echoing across the sacred clearing like a prophecy. "But you will be much more than that. You will be Hunters."
The wind stirred the edges of her long coat, embroidered with the faded sigil of the Sunlight Sisters — the legendary quadrat who had once held the Honmoon together with nothing but their voices and their blades. Now, she stood before her successors, the new generation forged in secrecy and song.
Lunette — known to fans as Luna— stood at the center of the formation, her boots planted firmly in the moss-soft earth. To her left, Zoey and Rumi flanked her like twin flames. Mira stood just beyond Rumi, her posture straight as she shifted just the slightest bit closer.
Together, they formed Huntrix — the idol group whose harmonies could fracture demon sigils and whose choreography masked centuries-old combat techniques. But here, on the sacred land where the veil between worlds thinned, they were not performers. They were heirs.
Celine's eyes swept over them, her gaze lingering on Luna.
"Demons have haunted our world since the first soul sang," she continued, stepping forward. "They steal our voices, our memories, our dreams — feeding their king, Gwi-Ma, with every stolen breath. He is the silence between notes. The shadow behind the spotlight."
Luna's breath hitched.
It was subtle — a blink too fast, a twitch at the corner of her eye — but it was enough. The pounding in her head had started again, rhythmic and insistent, like a drumbeat she couldn't place. She stared at the ground, trying to anchor herself in the present, but the words Celine spoke felt like echoes from another life.
She'd heard this speech before. A hundred times. Maybe more. Every syllable was etched into her bones. But today, it felt different. Not rehearsed — remembered.
Luna's vision blurred. The edges of the clearing shimmered, and for a moment, she saw something else — a flash of violet light, a blade singing through air, a voice that was not her own echoing in her thoughts. Her heart stuttered. She ignored it, just as she always did.
"You were born with voices that could drive back the darkness." Celine's words rang out like a spell, ancient and binding, carried on the wind that rustled through the sacred grove. The air shimmered faintly around them — not with light, but with resonance, the lingering echo of generations past. "Songs of courage. Songs of hope. But Hunters are more than warriors. Our music doesn't just fight — it heals. It binds. It awakens."
She stepped forward, her boots pressing into the moss-covered stones that marked the edge of the Honmoon's heart. The sigils carved into the earth pulsed faintly beneath her, reacting to her presence — or perhaps to the girls standing before her.
Luna stood at the center, her gaze steady but inwardly flickering. Rumi stood just beside her, Zoey and Mira flanking them. Celine's eyes swept across them, lingering — as always — on Luna and Rumi. There was something in her gaze, something that didn't quite belong to the present. A memory? A warning? Luna couldn't tell. She never could.
"The first Hunters understood this," Celine continued, her voice softening. "They sang not just to fight, but to connect. To unify. And through that connection, they forged the Honmoon — a shield of harmony that held back the tide of Gwi-Ma's hunger."
The name sent a ripple through the clearing. Gwi-Ma. The demon king. The silence between notes. The shadow behind every spotlight.
"Every generation," she said, "a new quartet is chosen. Four voices. Four souls. One purpose. To create the Golden Honmoon — a barrier so strong, so pure, it cannot be broken. Not by claw, nor curse, nor crown." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "And now, that duty falls to you."
The girls didn't speak immediately. They didn't need to. Their eyes met — Luna to Rumi, Rumi to Mira, Mira to Zoey — and something passed between them. Not just understanding, but trust. History. A thousand rehearsals and a thousand battles. A thousand nights spent wondering if they were enough. A thousand nights fighting to prove they were.
Their hands brushed, then clasped, fingers interlacing like chords in a harmony. They stepped closer, the space between them vanishing.
"Yes, Celine," they said in unison, their voices perfectly aligned — not just in pitch, but in purpose.
Celine nodded, but her gaze didn't soften. Not yet.
Luna felt it again — that strange pressure behind her eyes, the flicker of something half-remembered. She turned her gaze back to Celine, and their eyes locked.
There it was. That look.
Not pride. Not concern.
Recognition.
Celine stared at her as if she saw something Luna couldn't. As if she were waiting for her to remember. As if she already knew what Luna would become.
Luna's smile faltered. She bowed her head, just as she always did. Just as she had in every rehearsal, every ritual, every moment Celine looked at her like that.
But this time, the feeling didn't pass.
It deepened.