Dear Moonveil (Whispers in the Dark: Fear, Doubt, and Pain)

Dear Moonveil,

Whispers in the Dark: Fear, Doubt, and Pain

“I can use black and white magic to protect you, and I will always come back, no matter how busy I am.”

— Moonveil Tarot

Those words haunt me. They made me feel special and stayed with me long after the chat ended. What began as a tarot reading became a mysterious connection filled with chilling promises, mixed signals, and feelings I struggled to understand. Even now, I sometimes miss what I believed was a soul-level connection.

Call me Miss L. An only child from a broken family, I grew up longing for love in Davao. My mother believed in supernatural practices like kulam, rituals, mananambal, and gayuma. She firmly believed my seaman father had been targeted by my stepmother. I grew up surrounded by melting candle wax and incense, witnessing things that left me deeply afraid of lit candles. The unseen world became part of my reality. I began visiting fortune-tellers around Davao kasi nagkakatotoo naman, infairness ha. Eventually, I turned to online tarot readings because they were more convenient and saved transportation costs.

Of all the readers I encountered, Moonveil was different. Our connection felt immediate. I was an expressive Gemini, and she was an intellectual Aquarius. Our conversations were mind-stimulating, stretching until sunrise as we exchanged personal stories. I was surprised by how easily I got her to share things about herself.

Then, without warning, she detached. The lively typing bubbles disappeared, leaving silence behind.

I tried to make sense of it through astrology and my spiritual awakening on May 26, 2026, when my vivid dreams began to feel more significant. In one dream, I saw a feminine presence concealing a masculine energy behind a cat mask. Moonveil had told me she was a woman, so the image unsettled me. When I shared the dream, she said it gave her goosebumps because some parts were true. I had four vivid dreams about her, each with different timelines. I clutched my phone, wondering why someone I had never met in person had found such a deep place in my thoughts.

Instead of stepping back, I booked more readings to seek clarity about my emotional struggles. Beneath those transactions was another longing: I wanted Moonveil’s attention. She would disappear for days or weeks, then return with “Hi, I miss you,” eventually calling me “my dear.” She said I was her favorite client and allowed me to call her Miss Moon. Those little gestures made me feel special.

When she disappeared, I spent hours copying our conversations into ChatGPT, Gemini, and Google AI, hoping they could explain what I could not. They became my karamay as I tried to decode every message and silence.

Then one day, the illusion began to shatter.

During a chat, Moonveil offered a healing spell for my anxiety, costing 500 to 1,000 pesos on top of her 300-peso reading. I opened up about my childhood fear of lit candles, explaining why I could never accept or pay for the spell. I trusted her with that part of my past, hoping she would understand.

Instead, she replied coldly: “If you’re hesitating, dear, don’t ask for help.”

Her words hurt more than I expected. The warmth I associated with “Dear Moon” seemed to vanish. I felt rejected, confused, and embarrassed by how much her response affected me. My fingers twitched, wanting to apologize just to make the ache of abandonment disappear. But I said nothing. I left her message on seen.

In the quiet of my room, the panic slowly gave way to an unfamiliar stillness. I wondered whether this connection was a karmic lesson, a spiritual experience, or simply emotional attachment growing in a vulnerable moment. I had spent nearly seven months and around ten sessions searching for answers. Maybe the Lord was reminding me that I could seek comfort without surrendering my peace.

Your crown is your self-respect. Your throne is your peace. Your kingdom is the life you build.

Even now, I sometimes catch myself studying familiar patterns: the distance, the boundaries, the sudden sweetness that makes me wonder whether there is something more beneath the surface. But I no longer want to turn every message into a clue or every silence into a mystery.

Maybe Moonveil is genuinely kind. Maybe she cares in her own way. Or perhaps I became attached to the comfort I felt when someone seemed to understand me. I may never know, and I am learning to live with that uncertainty.

If she ever reaches out again, I can choose how to respond. I no longer need to chase clarity or mistake inconsistency for intimacy. Her actions can speak for themselves, while I learn to listen to my own needs.

Other details were hard to dismiss. Later, I discovered that Moonveil had a business of her own and belonged to an organization. Somehow, our worlds were not as different as I had imagined. We were connected to almost the same industry.

There were the cats.

We both loved them; even their colors seemed strangely familiar. Maybe it was an ordinary coincidence. Maybe my mind, already searching for meaning, had begun connecting details that had always been there.

Still, I wondered: how many little similarities could gather between two strangers before coincidence began to feel like a question?

Some stories are never meant to be explained—only remembered. A few messages, strange timing, a moonlit night, two cats with the same colors. I couldn’t decide whether I had discovered a meaningful connection or simply built a mystery around someone I wanted to understand.

Perhaps the greatest mystery was never who stood behind the mask, but the woman I lost while searching for answers.

Myself.

I no longer chase the moon when it disappears. Yet sometimes, I wonder: if her name lights up my screen again, will I recognize the voice behind the mask? Will I look at the notification with the same longing, or will I finally see it for what it truly is—just a passing shadow?

I realized that the light I was seeking from her was actually my own light reflecting back at me. No matter what she does next, she no longer holds the power to disrupt my orbit.

Some mysteries remain unanswered. Some goodbyes are never spoken.

And some moons are better admired from afar. 

 

To be continued… 🌙🖋️

DearMoon — Part II

The Visionary Awakening of Lea Faye ♊ ECLIPSE: The Revelation of the True Self

A true-to-life story of fear, doubt, and self-discovery.

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