Chapter Sixty-Three

Village of Two Suns

Dawn came twice.

First in a wash of gold that bled across the treetops, then again in a cooler shimmer of silver that followed half a breath later. The light of both suns—one from the mortal world, one from the Shadowlands—spilled over the valley and made everything flicker between real and unreal.

Selene and Kaen crested a ridge and looked down. Where she remembered a quiet hamlet, there now stood a strange twin settlement: half of its homes built from stone and timber, half from translucent glass that glowed from within. People moved between the halves as if sleep-walking, their outlines rippling whenever they crossed from sunlight to shadow.

“The rift reached them,” Selene murmured.

Kaen’s ears pinned back. The air smelled of incense, smoke, and fear.

They descended the slope. Villagers gathered as she entered—men, women, and wolves in human form, their eyes bright with the same gold-silver shimmer that touched the sky. Some bowed. Others simply stared.

One woman stepped forward, clutching a bundle of wildflowers. “Luna,” she whispered. “The child said you would come.”

Selene froze. “The child?”

The woman nodded toward the square. “It waits at the well. We built the altar as it commanded.”

Kaen growled softly.

Selene followed the woman through narrow streets until she reached the center of the village. There, beside an ancient stone well, stood a figure bathed in light—the being that had called her Mother. Around it knelt a dozen villagers, heads bowed.

It smiled when it saw her. “They hear me, as you do. They wish for peace.”

Selene’s voice was quiet but edged. “Peace doesn’t demand worship.”

The being tilted its head. “They gave it freely. I promised them warmth. Look.”

It lifted a hand. The air shimmered, and fruit trees burst into bloom though it was midwinter. The villagers gasped and whispered prayers.

Selene felt the Heart inside her ache. Power, yes—but power drawn from the balance itself. “You’re draining both realms,” she said. “Every miracle costs something.”

The being’s gaze darkened. “You taught me creation and restraint. Now you teach me fear?”

“I’m teaching you consequence,” she said.

The wind shifted. Half the village fell under shadow; the other half glowed brighter. Walls cracked, the earth groaned. Kaen barked, circling the altar.

Selene raised her hands. “Stop before you break them!”

The being looked genuinely puzzled. “They want the light. They pray for it.”

“They don’t understand the price,” she said. “If you burn too bright, the shadows vanish—and without shadow, nothing grows.”

The being’s eyes flickered between silver and gold. “Then show me balance.”

It stepped down from the altar and placed a hand over her heart again. The villagers gasped as both of them lifted from the ground, suspended in a spiral of light and dark.

Selene felt the world stretch—two realms overlapping, the line between them snapping taut. The Heart within her screamed, and she realized what the being was doing: trying to merge completely with her, to make one world.

“No,” she whispered, pushing against the pull. “Not unity through destruction.”

The being’s voice echoed in her mind. Then what? Division? Endless halves forever fighting?

“Not halves,” she gasped. “Harmony.”

She reached inward, calling the memory of Kimberly’s moonlight and Lucien’s shadows. Power surged outward, soft but firm, threading through the being’s energy instead of against it.

The golden light dimmed; the shadows steadied. They landed gently.

The villagers blinked, confused but unharmed. Flowers still bloomed, yet the ground no longer trembled.

Selene stepped back, breathless. “You can create without taking. Balance isn’t stillness—it’s motion that never forgets where it began.”

The being looked at its hands, astonished by the calm. “This… feels different.”

“Because it’s right,” she said.

Kaen padded between them, tail low, eyes glowing. The villagers slowly stood, their awe shifting into cautious hope.

The being turned to them. “No altars,” it said softly. “No worship.” It looked back at Selene. “Only learning.”

Selene nodded. “Then learn with them. Be their bridge, not their god.”

For the first time, the being smiled without radiance—just a quiet, human smile. “You really are my mother.”

The words caught her off guard, but she didn’t deny them. “Maybe. Or maybe we’re both the world’s children trying to keep it from breaking again.”

Above them, the twin suns steadied into one pale light. The villagers bowed in gratitude, not to a deity, but to balance restored.

Selene looked at Kaen. “One village saved.”

The wolf huffed.

She glanced at the horizon where the haze of other rifts shimmered faintly. “Many more to go.”

Kaen’s low growl rumbled like agreement.

Selene turned toward the light, cloak fluttering, and walked forward. “Come on. Let’s teach the world

how to live with two suns.”