Moana and the Edge of the Sky

Moana sailed past the horizon, beyond the known stars, past the gods’ laughter and the ancestors’ songs.

She wanted to see what lay at the edge of creation — where the sea met the unknown.

The ocean grew still. Too still. Her boat drifted into waters that reflected not the sky, but faces — millions of faces staring back from below.

The sea spoke:

“These are the ones who reached too far.”

Each reflection was a voyager turned to memory. Moana looked down and saw her own reflection smile back — but it didn’t follow her movements.

“You came here to find me,” the reflection said. “But I came to forget.”

The stars went out one by one. The ocean turned black.

When her people looked for her generations later, they found her canoe on the shore, sails tattered, eyes carved into the mast.

At night, when the tide is still, you can hear her hum — the sound of someone who found the end of the world and refused to come back.