Some introductory info: this story is a mixture of my headcanons of what happened in Silver Millennium, what can be deduced from the manga, with the addition of characters from BnHA in important roles and some personal touches. It works as a prequel/spinoff to the Quirk-y Moon series. It can be read separately if you don't mind the sad ending (with "sad" I mean "tragic and grim". I pulled no punches, sorry), but it was conceived as a companion piece for Days of Moonlight (and) Heroes, the last chapter, in particular, will be a bridge between the Mugen arc and the Dream arc for DoMaH.

The characters' names are adapted to the previous-lives concept, I used names taken from Greek Mythology, from chapter 2 onwards there will be a note at the beginning with the main names and their origin so you won't get lost.
I have to add this is not a linear story, but the individual stories of the boys' previous lives, in Silver Millennium, so each chapter covers one side of the same story and the style is intentionally different from the other fic. It was supposed to be 15k words top, but my hands slipped and the full work is over 35k words, I know because I almost finished writing it all already. I hope you'll enjoy reading it like I loved writing it.

Last but not least, I have some people to thank for the development of this fic, they helped me ever since its early stages: Amanda27A.g and Althea Sirius. You have all of my gratitude. This is dedicated to the two of you. And a special thank to PrinExe too, who helped me with one chapter in particular.

Prologue:
Earth
Of new lives looking into the past

Their past lives, their charges, their choices and feelings and homes.

Lost in the past, all of this.

Or, it should have been.

One by one, they started to remember.

Little steps, tiny bits - smells and feelings and scattered words - , then bigger pieces until the day when the sun didn't appear until midday and it all came back in the light of the Silver Crystal and they knew. Knew who they were, who they could become, who they promised to protect above all and failed back then and they doubted now they could pick up where they left, doubted they ever should pick up that path again.

So one renewed his promise, twice as strong, twice as both his new and old self joined to rise above who he used to be.

One decided to see what happened before taking a stand.

Two fought their guilt and vowed to be their best selves for this new chance.

One turned his back and wanted to forget, but kept looking behind all the same.

And one wished with all his being he never awoke.

Midoriya Izuku was the first to get the visions. Of course, he was the one who met both Usagi and Mamoru first, after all, and the one who was the closest to Serenity and Endymion, back then.

It was vague, at the beginning.

Immense skies filled with monsters. Glimpses of a wonderful castle of white stone. Lots and lots of blood on the ground. The Earth seen as a blue marble from the sky. Tears and shouts and immense grief.

It wasn't much.

Meeting Mamoru gave him a headache that had nothing to do with the mild concussion sparring with Makoto gave him.

It was an open flood of dreams after that.

Usagi in a white and gold dress, happily running towards an armour-clad Mamoru. Kacchan with a flaming sword and Iida in shining armour. Uraraka in a pink tunic, with a severe battle stance painted on her face.

And clash of fight, soldiers ready for war. Weapons raised to a livid sky.

A sword that seemed to hold the power of the Sun itself, the image of it glowing on a mural. The echoes of a vow.

The weirdest part was the realism of it all, he who never dreamed of anything else than becoming a Hero, was now dreaming of being someone in some ancient times in excruciating detail.

At first, the dreams went away every morning, he was too busy to linger on them during the day so they didn't distress him too much. But then others came, the whispers about the Deity of Destruction, of Talismans, of having to protect the Prince and Princess. of the tragedy lingering in the near future.

And he made another vow, deep inside his heart.

Nothing would end in tragedy, as long as he could prevent it, not this time.

Even if he wasn't sure what "this time" meant, but he sure would have liked to know.

Todoroki Shoto, for a number of reasons - all involving his parents, albeit in different way and measure - preferred when his sleep was void of dreams.

He thought starting to attend at Yuuei must have had some effect on his psyche because his dreams changed in nature quite soon after the first weeks.

But, even when he dreamed of burnt wastelands, filled with roasted bodies and molten metal from scattered weapons, even when frozen fields with people impaled on ice filled his head, he wasn't upset.

Whatever was in those dreams wasn't much worse than his current life, especially his childhood.

When, not long after the Sports Festival, his dreams of fire changed, from utter destruction to some manner of flame arrows and fire snakes, dangerous but with elegance and even beauty in them, he was sure it was because of his newfound acceptance of the most loathed part of himself.

So, when he dreamed of a dark-haired woman, sitting in front of a fire and talking about a war approaching, her face impossible to distinguish from his point of view, he assumed it wasn't a big concern.

Dreams come and go, there was no reason to delve on those.

But he had to admit he was a bit curious.

Curious if the woman in his dreams looked like the young miko of the Hikawa Shrine.

Curious if she was tied to the recurring voices that told him that his fire wasn't evil, that he could protect with that too.

And he wondered if he always liked the smell of wood and feared to be hurt by the gentleness of a warm voice.

Then came that night. The night he heard of the Talismans and saw the devastation and didn't want it to happen, but didn't know what to do either.

He waited for answers and answers came when he least expected them.

Iida Tenya was a rational thinker, or so he liked to believe. He knew dreams are the way brains stock and revise the events of the day and any figment of imagination was the result of chemical and electric reactions.

Nothing to worry about.

So he assumed his dream of running on a battlefield must have been the result of the very traumatic experience of the USJ attack and his desperate rush was a mirror of his run for help of that day.

Dreaming of being a knight had to be tied to the shape of his Hero outfit, of course.

The lady in blue had to be some figment of imagination, perhaps someone he saw around at school that his brain retained but his mind didn't recall, brains have a way of working that is hard to comprehend.

Except the despair he felt one night, the oneiric sight of the corpse of the blue lady, was far too real. Real enough for him to wake up in silent tears.

Real enough to feel like a terrible omen.

But he was a rational person, he said to himself. He had the Sports Festival to face, no bad omens would make his efforts go to waste.

Needless to say, the omen was for something far more grave than a loss in a competition, as important as the event could be.

A darkness descended on his heart and blinded him, keeping away any thought that wasn't to avenge his brother's wounds and lost dream.

It was only later, when the fog had cleared and life showed him his mistake, that the dreams came back, in full force.

He started to remember. Remember, he said himself, not wondering if he suffered from PTSD and projecting, because it didn't feel like that.

Deep down, he knew being a Hero was the first step to a bigger path.

Deep down, he knew it was real. The blue lady to whom he had pledged his oneiric -previous- life was real and she had his destiny in her hands.

He only had to follow, but he was a good runner.

Kirishima Eijirou usually had the most disparate and weird dreams.

He had an open mind, who liked fantasy and science-fic, with a fascination for heroes as they were depicted before the Hero era, long before quirks existed, because those were real manly to face the evils of the world without any special ability.

Dreaming of being a brave fighter in a war for a princess was not unusual.

The unusual part was that the princess fought alongside the rest of the army.

He'd lie if he said she didn't look a little like Kino-chan. Well, a lot.

But hey, such was his mind, what could he do? She'd make one hell of a fighter and a marvellous princess at the same time, he was sure.

Somehow the dreams seemed to reflect his respect for her, nothing terrible with that.

But there was something, lingering at the end, out of grasp, that made him uneasy. Like homework forgotten and due in a few hours, or the adrenaline rush for a fight that seemed already over.

He wanted to help. The dream of the Talismans happened only once and he knew he had to do something, but what?

He had to give his all. To be ready. To be worthy.

Worthy of what, he was going to find out later on.

Shinsou Hitoshi had troubles sleeping ever since he could remember.

Testament to this were the ever-present dark circles around his eyes and his constant need for strong tea or coffee to stay awake during the day.

The dreams did nothing to help with that. The golden light made his head hurt, the whispers meshed in his mind. He had the constant urge to speak about that, to tell what he heard, even if he seldom remembered what he heard, and he didn't know who he was supposed to tell.

Not only because he had no real friends he could confide in -between his quirk and his unapproachable nature there weren't many people he'd speak with, period-, but because he felt those secrets were for specific ears.

Long golden hair played in his visions, taunting, derisive in their ineffable oneiric substance. They didn't make him angry, only tired.

There was more to it, he knew. The blonde hue hid stronger-than-steel chains of hurt and resilience and absolute loyalty, something ever-so-present in those painful dreams.

Painful, why painful?

He didn't know about it, but he was the last to have more precise images. By paradox, he had the feeling she was the first to know.

But she? Who was she? Did he really meet her, that day, in the middle of an empty corridor, or was she only a fragment of his imagination?

One of the many things that kept him awake at night, in spite of himself.

Bakugou Katsuki hated dreams in general. His belief was that they prevented him from sleeping well and he needed order and schedules to become the very best, thank you very fucking much.

But his unruly mind had other plans.

He was plagued with dreams of purple eyes and ground breaking and splitting under his feet in flashes of violet light and he hated the feeling of earth sucking him in.

In some scenery of war and devastation he felt more at ease, he could still see himself making good use of his quirk and even if he was sort of desperate to win, it still was familiar.

But the silent corridors were a different thing, and so was the purple room, a middle ground between an altar and a bedroom where someone was... sleeping? resting? trapped?

He got to the point he couldn't see anything purple in the morning without the itch to blast it away.

He hated his traitorous mind for making him wake with the feeling of ground dragging him down and he hated the purple eyes because they were so sad, so gentle, so terrifying.

Not that he'd ever admit that.

Not even in front of those very eyes, once he met them outside his dreams, not when the whispers of death turned into silent screams that took his breath away and made him angrier than ever before for how powerless and weak he knew he was...

But those eyes were steel coated in silk and he yearned for them and that was the worst: wanting for something you will never get, you should never get.

Everything else he could fight to obtain, but not this.