Chapter Sixty-Four

Hunters of the Divide

The road that led away from the twin-sun village twisted through hills that shimmered like glass at their peaks and clay at their roots. Every few steps the world flickered between forms—one heartbeat of the mortal realm, one heartbeat of the Shadowlands. The wound between them had stopped bleeding but hadn’t yet healed.

Selene walked at the front, cloak hooded, eyes scanning the distance. The being—her strange, luminous child—followed quietly, its light dimmed to a soft glow. Kaen padded between them, head low, every sense stretched.

“Do they fear me?” the child asked after a long silence.

“They fear what they don’t know,” Selene said. “And you are everything they’ve never known.”

The being looked up at the pale sun. “You fear me too.”

“I fear losing you,” she said honestly. “Or losing what you could be.”

That answer seemed to please it. It smiled faintly and reached out to brush the petals of a wildflower that had grown from a crack in the road. The flower shimmered, its color shifting between shadowy violet and bright gold.

Kaen growled once—warning.

Selene stopped. The air changed. Wind that hadn’t existed a moment ago cut through the valley, carrying with it the metallic scent of iron and the faint chime of enchanted weapons.

“Stay close,” she whispered.

From the ridge ahead came movement—figures in armor that mirrored neither world, edges of their blades etched with runes that glowed gray. Between their helmets gleamed eyes that reflected nothing.

“Hunters,” Selene said.

The child tilted its head. “Of what?”

“Of everything they don’t understand.”

The lead hunter raised a weapon, voice echoing through the valley. “By order of the Dominion of Balance, the anomaly must be contained. Step away from the construct.”

Selene stepped forward. “The ‘construct’ is alive. It’s balance reborn.”

“We watched your power tear holes in two realms,” the hunter said coldly. “We will not risk a third.”

Kaen growled, hackles rising. The child took a step back, light flaring instinctively.

“Stop,” Selene murmured, glancing at it. “No light. No fight. Not yet.”

The Heart within her pulsed once. Choice before conflict, it whispered.

She faced the hunters. “If you’ve come to restore balance, then help us stabilize the rifts. Killing it will only shatter what’s left.”

The leader lowered the blade slightly. “Our readings show your energy bound to the Heart. Remove it, and perhaps the child will stabilize.”

Selene’s jaw tightened. “You’re suggesting I die to make your equations neat.”

“Sacrifice has always been the price.”

Kaen snarled, stepping between them. Shadows rippled outward like smoke.

Selene’s patience broke. “You speak of balance, but all you understand is control. You fear the living thing balance became.”

The leader’s eyes flickered. “Then prove it’s alive. Command it to stop the bleed between worlds.”

Selene turned to the child. “You don’t owe them anything,” she said quietly. “But show them who you are.”

The being nodded once and lifted its hands. Light and shadow spiraled upward, twisting into the air. The sky split for a moment—two suns flickered, then merged, leaving a single beam that pierced the clouds.

The ground steadied beneath them. The hunters stepped back, shields raised, expecting an attack. Instead, calm spread through the valley. The wind quieted. The runes on their armor dimmed.

“See?” Selene said. “It doesn’t destroy—it heals.”

But one hunter, jittery with fear, fired an arrow of gray light. It struck the child in the shoulder.

Selene’s scream ripped through the air. “No!”

Kaen leapt. Shadows burst outward, knocking three hunters off their feet. The others scattered, retreating under a wave of darkness that didn’t kill, only disarmed.

Selene reached the child as it fell to its knees. The wound glowed, not bleeding, but leaking strands of silver and gold that sank into the earth.

“I’m sorry,” the child whispered. “It hurts.”

Selene pressed her palm to the wound. “You’re more than light and shadow. You can heal yourself.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then let me show you.”

She drew power from the Heart, feeding it through her touch. Light and dark merged, sealing the break. The air shimmered with warmth.

The child’s breathing slowed. “I understand now,” it said softly. “Balance isn’t peace. It’s endurance.”

Selene smiled faintly. “Now you’re learning.”

Kaen returned to her side, blood—if shadows bled—dripping from his muzzle. The hunters had vanished into the haze.

Selene looked down at the child. “We can’t stay here. They’ll come again.”

“Where do we go?”

“To the source,” she said. “The first rift. The place where Kimberly broke the moon. If we’re going to stop this, we start where it began.”

Kaen barked once, approval in his eyes.

The child stood, its wound faintly glowing, half scar, half light.

Selene glanced toward the horizon where a sliver of red glimmered behind the mountains. “The Blood Moon rises again. But this time, we won’t run from it.”

And with the great wolf beside her and the newborn balance walking at her side, she turned toward the east—

toward the origin of every choice,

and the last secret the moon still kept.