Mothman crouched inside the hollow tree, watching the village through the round wooden door. Glowing fungi lit his gray wings. He had two days left to save them all. The bridge would fall. He knew it like he knew his own heartbeat. Outside, the old stone bridge sagged. Cracks ran through its weathered arch. Grass pushed through missing chunks. Villagers still crossed it every hour, baskets in hand, never looking up. Mothman tried again. He flew low over the path, arms wide. A mother screamed and pulled her child away. A farmer dropped his sack and ran. Three tries now. Three failures. His warnings sounded like roars to their ears. He landed beside a haunted willow, breath shaking. A bright dragonfly drifted past his face. It hovered. It was not afraid. It looked at him like he was just another swamp creature, nothing more. Mothman watched it dance away toward the bridge. Something shifted inside him. If he could not speak to the villagers, he would have to find someone they would listen to. He turned back to his glowing tree and started planning. The direct path was closed. He needed a messenger.

Mothman left his hollow tree at dusk. He stopped first at the village's posting board, scanning the pinned notes for a name the villagers trusted. One paper appeared again and again: readings, blessings, guidance. Mothette. He had not seen her in weeks. His wings felt heavy as he turned toward the swamp's edge. Her lavender tent glowed under the stars, soft and warm. Mothman ducked inside. Mothette looked up from her cards and froze, then softened. He spoke plainly. The bridge was dying. He had two days. The villagers ran from him every time. Mothette listened without flinching. Her small hands trembled over the deck. She drew one card, then another. Her face went still. "They'll listen to me," she said. "I don't know if I deserve that. But I'll use it." She wrapped her starry shawl tight and stepped out beside him. For the first time in three days, Mothman was not alone with the weight. The messenger was found. Now they had to reach the village before the wood gave way.