Chapter Sixty-Seven

A Canyon of Echoes

The journey south stretched across three nights and two strange dawns.

The sky no longer obeyed time—it pulsed between silver and gold, a heartbeat of creation that never truly slept. Every few miles, Selene saw the cracks spreading: trees half-turned to crystal, rivers flowing upward, shadows that breathed.

Kaen padded ahead, growling whenever the air thickened. The child followed silently, its light dimming to avoid drawing attention.

By the third morning, they stood at the edge of the Canyon of Echoes.

It wasn’t a canyon anymore—it was a wound. A mile-wide scar splitting the land, its depths filled with mist that whispered in voices long dead. The sound was unbearable, like a thousand memories repeating themselves in broken harmony.

Selene pressed her palm against her heart. The mark burned. “He’s here.”

Kaen’s fur bristled. The child looked into the mist. “The void’s song,” it said softly. “It’s using him to call you.”

Selene nodded once. “Then I’ll answer.”

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They descended slowly, rocks shifting beneath their feet.

The deeper they went, the colder the air became. The mist thickened until every breath shimmered with light and shadow.

Then—footsteps.

A figure emerged from the fog, tall and familiar, eyes glowing with dim silver fire.

“Lucien,” Selene whispered.

He smiled, the expression both warm and wrong. “You shouldn’t have come, little Luna.”

Her heart ached. His voice was softer than she remembered—gentle, heavy with memory. “You’re not real,” she said. “You’re a fragment. The void’s using you.”

“Maybe,” he said, taking another step. “Or maybe I’m what’s left of the man who loved you before balance tore him apart.”

Kaen growled, placing himself between them.

Lucien laughed quietly. “Always the guardian. Loyal to the end.”

Selene stepped forward, ignoring the sting of tears. “If any part of you remembers who you were, then you know I didn’t want this. You chose the sacrifice. I just carried it.”

His eyes flickered—human for a moment. “Carried it… or became it?”

The mist shifted, forming shapes: Kimberly’s face, Mona’s flame, the temple’s broken altar. All spinning around her like a storm of ghosts.

Lucien’s voice deepened. “You call it balance, but it’s only another chain. Light and dark. Life and death. Even now, you cage the child the way I once caged the moon.”

The child stepped forward, defiant. “She doesn’t cage me. She gave me choice.”

Lucien’s gaze snapped to them. “Choice? Or illusion? You’re nothing but her shadow given form.”

The child flinched as if struck. Its glow dimmed, and the canyon trembled.

“Stop!” Selene shouted.

The void within Lucien’s echo rippled, feeding on the tension. A wave of black mist surged outward, swallowing Kaen whole. The wolf vanished with a yelp.

“Kaen!”

Selene ran toward the fog, but Lucien appeared before her again, blocking the way. His eyes burned red now. “Stay with me, Selene. You can’t fight what’s already inside you.”

She froze. The Heart pulsed violently in her chest, answering the void. She could feel it—its hunger, its longing to reunite with what it had lost.

Lucien reached out. “You and I were meant to finish what Kimberly began. We can build a world where nothing dies. No more endings. No more grief.”

Her tears burned. “And no more freedom.”

He hesitated.

Selene drew in a shuddering breath. “I loved you, Lucien. But love isn’t meant to erase the world—it’s meant to endure it.”

Light flared from her hands, blinding and steady. “I release you.”

The words rippled through the canyon. The mist screamed, twisting violently, but she didn’t stop. She reached deeper, past the pain, into the memory of who he’d been—his laughter, his courage, the moment he’d chosen sacrifice over domination.

The void shrieked.

Lucien’s form flickered, the silver in his eyes returning. “Selene…”

She smiled through tears. “Rest.”

He touched her cheek, the gesture tender and fleeting. “You did what I couldn’t,” he whispered. “You learned to forgive the light.”

Then he was gone.

The mist collapsed inward, sucked into a single point of darkness that imploded silently. The air stilled.

Kaen stumbled from the shadows, shaken but alive. The child rushed forward, light flaring again.

Selene sank to her knees, exhausted. “It’s done.”

The child looked toward the fading darkness. “He was never truly gone, was he?”

“No,” Selene said softly. “None of them ever are. That’s what the void wants us to forget—that love leaves echoes stronger than fear.”

Kaen pressed his head against her arm, grounding her once more.

Selene looked up at the sky through the canyon’s tear. The suns had steadied, golden-silver light spilling into the mist.

“We closed another wound,” she murmured. “But something tells me the void won’t stop here.”

The child nodded gravely. “Then neither will we.”

Selene rose, strength returning to her limbs. “We move east. The next rift’s already calling.”

Kaen barked once.

And as the three of them climbed from the canyon—light, shadow, and heartbeat united—the echoes faded behind them,

leaving peace where grief had once lived.