Muna

  Moo?nah

  Type: Noun

  Meaning: In a world with nine moons, "Muna" refers to both an individual moon and the concept of a month. A "Muna" is the period during which one of the nine moons completes its cycle, approximately forty-four days.

  Orlo tried to swallow the sour bile rising in his throat and turned around, only to be met with a sight that took his breath away. The girl standing before him had long dark hair, slightly unkempt in a way that reminded him of Maggie, and her eyes were a vivid, round blue—distinctly Menschen.

  She was slightly taller than him, which wasn't hard, in his opinion, and despite the bulkiness of her thick coat, she carried an air of grace. Her smile was broad and almost infectious, lighting up her features and momentarily easing Orlo's discomfort.

  "Yes, I'm... my name is... like, what you said," he stammered.

  "Hi, I'm Muna!" she greeted him warmly, extending her hand toward him. When Orlo shook her hand, he was taken aback by the softness of her skin.

  "Muna? Muna, that's pretty," he remarked, his gaze lingering on her face, captivated by every detail—the two moles on her cheek and another next to her right eye, the vivid red of her lips, and the delicate scent of lilac that seemed to envelop her. Muna was undeniably beautiful.

  "'Muna' refers to both an individual moon and the concept of a month. A 'Muna' is the period during which one of the nine moons completes its cycle, forty-four days." the girl blurted out.

  She then introduced herself, "I'm the daughter of Redfred and Darra Dagurstea. I came to pick you up," she explained.

  "Pick me up, oh... okay... that... that makes sense," he continued, still stammering, completely mesmerized by her beauty.

  "Do you need help with your luggage?" she offered, reaching for the strap of his bag. "Oh, this is heavy. What do you have in here? The entire Faewood?"

  "No, not the entire Faewood; otherwise, it would have been a much bigger bag," he replied, his mind finally snapping back to reality, albeit still slightly dazed.

  "Well, let's take this to the car," she suggested.

  They settled into the vehicle, and Orlo was visibly uncomfortable. The automobile resembled a luxurious carriage but without horses. He had read about how engines functioned and their various features but had never actually been inside one. His eyes darted around the interior, seemingly in search of something.

  "What are you looking for?" Muna asked, noticing his curious behaviour.

  "Well, I was looking for something to keep me secure in the seat in case we crash or fall off a cliff," he explained, hoping for some form of reassurance. "Like a belt or something similar."

  "There isn't one."

  "So, how do we protect ourselves in the event of an accident?" he asked seriously, "What if a Golem suddenly appears, and you have to deviate the engine around, and we crash into a tree or the Golem itself? Even if you are careful and drive at, let's say, fifty, or to be wild, seventeen kilometres per hour, shouldn't we be prepared for severe injuries in case of a crash? I mean, we might survive, although death is a real possibility, especially in a head-on collision. At these speeds, the risk of paralysis, brain damage, and other serious injuries significantly increases. Doesn't that worry you?"

  "I'll drive up to forty-four."

  There was something about this number—forty-four—that always bothered him, like a Mir Fado.

  Orlo gripped the door handle tightly, resigned, "This isn't exactly my choice of dying. I was hoping for something more fancy."

  Muna rolled her eyes as she started the engine, remarking, "You are an odd one, aren't you?"

  "Odd but alive."

  As they rolled along the dirt road, Orlo attempted to take in the landscape, but the car's headlights provided insufficient illumination for him to see much of anything outside.

  "Are you okay?" Muna asked, casting a sidelong glance at Orlo, who was clutching his belly.

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  "Yeah, just feeling a bit weird," he managed to say.

  "Must be motion sickness. It's normal if it's your first time," she explained sympathetically and then recited, “Motion sickness happens when the movement you see is different from what your inner ear senses. This can cause dizziness, nausea, and vomiting. You can get motion sick in a car or on a train or boat.”

  "Yeah, I felt like this on the train too. But I have a paper bag, just in case,"

  "Just let me know if you need me to stop. I really don't want to have to clean vomit out of my dad's car," Muna said, wrinkling her nose and once more, she spoke as reciting, “Vomiting is the forceful ejection of the contents of your stomach and upper digestive system through your mouth. It's also known as throwing up or being sick.”

  Orlo didn't respond, opting instead to close his eyes in an attempt to stave off the nausea. Just then, he heard a whisper from his little mouse, "I don't like her." He gently nudged the mouse back into his pocket and ignored the comment.

  The car came to an abrupt halt, causing Orlo to nearly leap from his seat in surprise. "Did we arrive?"

  Muna remained silent, instead turning the headlights to their brightest setting, illuminating a grand structure before them. The building was constructed from age-old stones, its roof adorned with blue tiles that glistened against the beam of the lights. The windows were shaped in elegant arches, and although the building was not particularly tall, it spread out impressively in length. Muna left the car and walked closer in the cold.

  Orlo followed her and asked, "Is this Regulus University?"

  "No, this is Quebaca Heritage High School," Muna clarified.

  "I don't understand. Why are you showing me this?" Orlo asked, gesturing towards the grand building.

  "Because that's where you're starting tomorrow."

  "Wait, wait," he hurried after her as she got back into the car, "I came here to study at the university, not high school. I've already graduated four times!"

  "I know... but..." she replied as she started the engine again, "Come inside, it's cold."

  Orlo climbed back into the car, still looking at her with a puzzled expression as she turned the wheel. "You are only seventeen. We couldn't enrol you in college because of that. Your scholarship is frozen until next winter. In the meantime, you'll come here."

  "What am I supposed to study?"

  "Study?" Muna repeated, seemingly amused by the question.

  "Yeah, otherwise, what else would I do in high school?"

  "Orlo, you'll be teaching," she revealed.

  "A teacher?"

  "Congratulations!"

  They reached the Dagurstea property less than an hour later. The rest of the journey between Orlo and Muna was spent in silence. As they drew nearer, Orlo's discomfort intensified, waves of nausea washing over him. He made a concerted effort to keep from vomiting inside the car. His world seemed to spin, everything turning upside down as if his very sense of gravity was being altered.

  "Finally, we arrived!" Muna stopped the car and asked, "Ready?"

  Orlo opened the door, and as soon as he did, he vomited.

  "Are we good?" Muna inquired, even as he continued to retch.

  He responded with a weak wave of his arm, signalling he was somewhat okay, and then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve to clean himself up.

  "Well, at least it wasn't inside the car, so that's something," Muna quipped.

  Orlo, clutching Maggie's pot and his bag, followed her towards the mansion. The structure was more massive than any building he had ever seen, its grandeur surpassing his expectations. It was enveloped by gardens adorned with flowers that stubbornly resisted the winter's chill.

  Finally, they stepped inside.

  Despite his efforts, it was futile; he was exhausted, feeling beads of cold sweat trickle down from his forehead to his chin.

  They reached a grand salon, reminiscent of a luxurious living room, complete with a fireplace, a piano, and heavy drapes that added to its opulence.

  "Mama, this is our new protégé, Orlo. Orlo, meet my mother, Darra Dagurstea," Muna introduced, bringing them into the presence of her mother.

  "Oh my goodness, are you feeling okay?" Darra expressed concern upon seeing Orlo's pale face.

  "A bit sick, nothing a good night's sleep won't solve," Orlo responded, managing a faint smile despite his discomfort.

  "Well, we still have dinner to attend to, and I guess you haven't eaten in a while," Darra mentioned kindly. The resemblance between her and Muna was striking, almost like a mirror image, yet her demeanour radiated a maturity that distinguished her. She was just as beautiful as her daughter, dressed in elegant attire, wearing a white ruffled blouse paired with a long black skirt, and her hair neatly gathered into a simple bun. She exuded grace as a Menschen would.

  "Muna, please ask the kitchen to prepare a plate for Orlo and Zora," Darra instructed.

  "Zora is home?" Muna inquired with a hint of disdain.

  "Yes, she just arrived," Darra responded, dismissing her daughter's tone, “For sure, she will join Orlo.”

  "She won’t! She doesn't feel anything, Mama. I wouldn't worry about her," Muna retorted, sceptical of her sister's needs. "Food would be a waste."

  "Do as I say!" the matriarch commanded firmly, yet her voice remained gentle.

  "I'm not sure I can eat anything," Orlo interjected, feeling queasy again.

  Suddenly, another wave of nausea surged through his throat, and he nearly vomited on Darra. Thankfully, the paper bag was within reach. His future self had been correct; he indeed needed one.

  

  The Long Night, despite the darkest chapters etched into the annals of history, served as a glaring spotlight on human ingenuity. The strides made in technology during this era were nothing short of breathtaking, particularly in the realm of transportation. Among the myriad innovations, the automobile emerged as a favoured marvel among many—the car.

  A four-wheeled engine, voraciously consuming fuel, it possessed the power to outpace a dozen steeds combined. Yet, with this newfound speed came a surge in fatalities—collisions, roadkill, and mechanical malfunctions among the litany of causes. I maintain that the inclusion of a safety belt should have been a non-negotiable feature from the inception of these vehicles.

  Muna, in particular, had a penchant for driving at breakneck speeds. I don't know how I am still alive. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer