I Followed the Moonlight Into the Forest… and Found a Door to Another World

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and wet earth. I had no reason to wander beyond the edges of my backyard—at least, not until I saw the moonlight.

It wasn’t just any moonlight. This was different—brighter, sharper, as if it had been poured in liquid silver along the ground, forming a glowing path into the woods. My grandmother used to tell me stories about the “Moon’s Thread,” a trail spun by the moon goddess herself, leading only those she chose to hidden places. I had laughed them off as bedtime tales.

Until tonight.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, I stepped past the fence, boots crunching in frosted grass. The moonlight ribbon stretched ahead, weaving through the trees, illuminating the forest floor in a way my flashlight never could. Shadows bent away from it, as though afraid to touch.

The deeper I went, the quieter the world became. No chirping crickets. No rustling leaves. Just the steady hum of something alive in the air, like the forest itself was holding its breath. My heart thudded in rhythm with my footsteps, and every time I thought of turning back, the glow seemed to beckon me onward.

After what felt like hours but could have been minutes, the trees opened into a small clearing. And there it was—a door.

Not a door attached to a wall or a house. Just… a door.

It stood upright in the center of the clearing, framed in dark oak, its surface etched with swirling symbols that shimmered faintly. It looked impossibly old, yet untouched by time. Moonlight pooled around it, bathing the carvings in an otherworldly glow.

I approached slowly, my breath fogging the air. The symbols shifted under my gaze, rearranging themselves into shapes I almost recognized—mountains, rivers, a sun with three rings. Then, words.

"Enter only if you seek what you’ve lost."

The sentence pulsed faintly, as if aware I was reading it.

My fingers brushed the brass handle. Warm.

In that moment, memories I hadn’t touched in years washed over me—my brother, Jonah, laughing as we ran through these same woods as children. His disappearance had never been solved. One day, he was there. The next, gone, as though swallowed by the forest. I’d spent years believing he was dead. But now…

Maybe this was the Moon’s Thread leading me to him.

I turned the handle.

The door swung open without a sound, revealing not darkness, but light—a soft, golden light that seemed to hum with life. Stepping through felt like walking into a dream.

The air was warmer here, rich with the scent of wildflowers and rain. The forest was different—trees taller than cathedrals, their leaves shimmering in colors I didn’t have names for. Strange, luminous birds flitted between branches. The sky was a swirl of lavender and gold, and in the distance, mountains floated in the air, tethered to the ground by thick vines.

I didn’t know where to start looking, but I didn’t have to.

“Lena?”

The voice came from behind me, so familiar it stole my breath. I turned.

Jonah stood there. Older than when I’d last seen him, but alive. His dark hair was longer, tied back, and his clothes were made of soft, woven fabric that looked handmade. His eyes—still that same shade of stormy gray—were wide with disbelief.

“You found the Thread,” he said, a mix of awe and relief.

I wanted to throw my arms around him, but I was frozen, my mind struggling to process everything at once. “Where have you been? We thought you—”

“There’s no time,” he interrupted, glancing over his shoulder at the forest beyond. “The Thread doesn’t stay open long. And if you came through…” He looked back at me, a strange mix of fear and determination in his eyes. “It means they know about you now.”

“They?” I asked, but before he could answer, a sound split the air—a low, guttural roar that rattled my bones.

Shapes moved in the distance. Tall, too tall to be human, with eyes that glowed like embers. Jonah grabbed my hand, his grip warm and urgent.

“We have to go. Now.”

He pulled me down a narrow path, our footsteps muffled against the moss-covered ground. The air thickened, humming with an energy I could feel in my teeth. Behind us, the roar grew louder, joined by the sound of branches snapping.

We broke through a thicket into another clearing, this one ringed by strange stone pillars covered in vines. At its center was a pool of water so still it looked like glass. Jonah knelt beside it, touching the surface with his palm. The water rippled, then glowed faintly.

“This is the only way back,” he said.

I stared at him, torn. “Back to where? Home?”

He shook his head. “Back to safety. But it’s not home—not yet. If you want answers… if you want to know the truth about me, about the Thread—you’ll have to stay.”

The roaring was closer now. I could see movement in the trees.

Jonah reached for me. “Decide, Lena. Now.”

I glanced at the glowing pool, then at the forest behind him. My heart pounded, every instinct screaming both to run and to stay.

The moonlight that had led me here was gone, swallowed by the strange sky. I realized, in that moment, that whatever choice I made, my life would never be the same.

And then—