The red moon hung in the sky like a warning—bloated and heavy, casting a violent hue over the treetops. It had only just risen, yet the air already pulsed with unease. Elira could feel it in her bones, in the tremble of the leaves, in the echo of her heartbeat.
They had returned from the Realm Beyond not empty-handed, but changed. Empowered. Marked. And with their return came consequence.
The world was shifting.
And not in their favor.
---
"The Gate didn't close behind you," Naeria murmured, her eyes scanning the space where the shimmering portal had once hovered. "It fractured."
Elira stood nearby, her arms crossed, gaze on the trees. "What does that mean?"
Theron answered for Naeria, his voice low. "It means it's still open. Not visible. Not here. But somewhere."
Selene's eyes darkened. "And anyone—or anything—can step through?"
Naeria nodded slowly. "The fabric between realms has thinned. What you did woke more than just star energy. It woke old debts. Old monsters."
Kael gripped the hilt of his blade. "Then we defend this world. Together."
But Rowan wasn't so sure. He paced at the edge of the clearing, tension wound tight in his shoulders.
"We need to prepare," he said. "Before it's too late."
---
That night, the howling began.
Not from the pack. Not from any living creature they knew.
This howl came from the horizon—echoing across the valley like a dying god. The trees bowed with each cry, and the air tasted like copper and ash.
Elira jolted awake in her tent. She shot up, heart pounding, instinct screaming.
Theron was already dressed.
"It's begun," he said. "The breach is spreading."
Outside, Selene and Kael were rallying scouts. Rowan barked orders while Naeria scrawled protective sigils across the trunks of ancient trees.
Something was coming.
Something that knew Elira and Theron had returned with power—and wanted to claim it.
---
By dawn, the first arrival came.
A lone figure emerged from the east, draped in black and bearing a staff made from twisted bone. His eyes shimmered with obsidian light, and his voice cracked the silence like glass.
"I seek the Starborn heirs," he said.
Kael stepped forward, sword drawn. "You found them. State your purpose."
The stranger smiled.
"I am Mirkhael. Keeper of Forgotten Things. Herald of the Deep Pact. And I come with a warning."
Theron narrowed his gaze. "What kind of warning?"
"The Starborn Gate has split open in more than one realm. Those cast out—banished from time—have seen the light. And they want it back."
Naeria's face went pale. "The Hollow-Blooded…"
Mirkhael nodded. "They're marching."
---
A fire was built that evening, larger than any since the Moonborn Festival. Around it gathered not just the pack, but allies—shapeshifters from the northern ridges, moon witches from the southern lakes, and even spirits called forth from the ancestral stones.
Mirkhael stood in the center.
"The Hollow-Blooded were once Starborn," he said. "But they defied balance. Consumed starlight until only void remained. Now they exist to devour what is left."
"And they're coming here?" Selene asked.
"They will go wherever the Gate echoes. Your children are its loudest echo yet."
Elira rose.
"Then we fight."
Murmurs. Agreement. But also fear.
Naeria stood beside her.
"We must protect the Gate. And prepare the Rite of Convergence."
Theron frowned. "What's that?"
"The only magic strong enough to seal the breach permanently."
Rowan stood, arms crossed. "Let me guess—there's a price."
Naeria nodded.
"A life. Maybe more."
---
That night, Elira dreamed again.
This time she stood atop a black spire, watching as shadow-creatures with hollow eyes tore through her people. She tried to scream, but no sound came. Theron was somewhere below, bleeding, his mark dimming.
Then a voice whispered in her ear.
> "You are the bridge. And bridges burn."
She woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, her skin glowing faintly.
Theron was already awake, staring at the moon.
"We don't have much time," he said.
And she believed him.
---
In the days that followed, the breaches multiplied.
Spots of unreality tore through the woods—floating orbs of black and violet that whispered to those who came near. One scout disappeared after touching a rift; another returned days later… altered, her eyes milky and her voice layered with echoes.
Kael issued full patrols. The borders were warded with blood sigils and ancient glyphs. But it wasn't enough.
At night, the shadows grew bolder.
Once, Theron caught one slithering through the camp—a creature of bone and smoke, its voice like broken flutes. It called Elira's name before vanishing.
They were being hunted.
---
Naeria worked tirelessly.
The Rite of Convergence required celestial focus points—locations charged with both light and dark energy. The twins had to be present, balanced in purpose, their marks aligned.
Rowan oversaw the perimeter.
Selene gathered the old tomes.
Kael and Mirkhael hunted for the missing pieces—runes and sacred minerals that could bind a gate without destroying the world.
But there was tension.
Theron had grown quiet.
Elira felt him withdrawing. Not in affection—but in purpose.
"You're planning something," she said one evening, catching him by the pool.
He didn't deny it.
"If the Rite fails… someone has to go through and stop them from the other side."
Her heart dropped.
"No."
"Elira—"
"No. We go together. Or not at all."
---
On the eve of the blood eclipse, the camp gathered beneath the stars.
Elira and Theron stood side by side, cloaked in ceremonial robes, their marks glowing like twin constellations. The pack chanted, the witches circled, and Naeria drew the final rune.
When the sky turned crimson, and the moon pulsed once, the Rite began.
Light spiraled up from the earth.
Shadow poured down from the heavens.
The Gate flickered into view—unstable, raging, monstrous.
And then—
It calmed.
Balanced.
Theron turned to Elira. "No matter what happens—"
She silenced him with a kiss.
"We survive. We always survive."
They stepped into the center of the ritual circle as the Gate opened once more.
And the Hollow-Blooded began to arrive.
---