Part I – The Silver Path
The moon was swollen, heavy with light, as though the heavens themselves leaned closer to watch what unfolded below.
The group of weary survivors—once proud warriors, now shadows of vengeance and doubt—moved in silence. Their feet crunched over frost-laced leaves, their breath steaming in the night. Ahead of them lay the ancient Shrine of the Moon, hidden in a fold of the mountains, a place older than the tribes themselves.
Ahayue walked at the rear, every sense alert. His hand never strayed far from the knife Andalusia had once pressed into his palm. Beside him, Alusya walked with shoulders hunched, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. She had grown stronger since the day he found her bleeding beneath the great tree, yet in this moment she looked smaller than ever.
The men whispered. Not to her. Not to him. But to each other. Their eyes betrayed the same question: Is she cursed? Is she vessel or plague?
And though none spoke it aloud, Ahayue heard it in their silence—Should she live? Or should she die?
Alusya clutched at her sleeve and whispered only for him:
"Why do they look at me like that, Ahayue? Like I am a wolf among sheep."
"You are no wolf," Ahayue said, voice low, firm. "They see what they fear. Not what you are."
But even as he spoke, he felt the cold brush at the edge of his thoughts. The Forgotten God. The whispering voice that had grown louder with every step toward the shrine.
They will betray her, the god murmured. They lead you to judgment, not mercy. She is mine. Why do you fight the truth?
Ahayue clenched his jaw and said nothing, refusing the whisper. But Alusya flinched as though she, too, had heard it.
Part II – The Forgotten God Stirs
That night they camped beneath twisted pines. No fire was lit, for the warriors said the shrine lay close, and fire would offend the Moon God. The air was bitter cold, thick with silence.
Alusya lay curled on her mat, eyes open, lips moving as if in dream. Ahayue kept watch, and though her whispers were faint, he caught fragments.
"…not alone… never alone…"
Then her body stiffened, and a voice not her own slipped from her mouth—soft, coaxing, ancient.
"Daughter… vessel… do not fear them. Fear the light that seeks to burn you. I am with you, even in silence. I am your shadow, and I will never leave."
Ahayue's hand went to her shoulder. "Alusya—wake."
Her eyes snapped open, wide, frightened. She looked at him, then at the warriors who pretended not to listen. Shame colored her cheeks.
"It spoke again," she whispered. "I didn't want it to, but it did. It… it feels warm, Ahayue. Like someone holding me. But wrong."
Ahayue swallowed hard. He thought of Andalusia, of her words: The curse is not always a chain—it can be a door. Beware what walks through.
He brushed a strand of hair from Alusya's face, speaking quietly. "Then you must not let it own you. Warmth can be a lie. You belong to no one but yourself."
But even as he said it, the Forgotten God laughed softly in the corners of his mind.
We shall see.
Part III – Arrival at the Shrine
By the second night, they reached it.
The Shrine of the Moon lay cradled between cliffs like a sleeping giant's heart. Silver stones rose in concentric rings, cracked and moss-grown, yet luminous under the swollen moon. Pools of still water mirrored the sky, and from the depths of those waters came a glow like living light.
The warriors fell to their knees, heads bowed. Their leader—scarred, hollow-eyed—spoke with reverence.
"Moon Father, judge us. Judge her."
From the shadows of the shrine emerged figures clothed in pale veils, faces hidden, movements smooth as drifting smoke. The Seers of the Moon. Their voices rose as one, echoing against stone and sky:
"Bring forth the child touched by shadow. Bring forth the vessel."
Alusya trembled. Ahayue moved to step in front of her, but she caught his arm. "No. If I hide behind you, they will only believe more. I… I will stand."
Her legs shook, but she walked into the shrine alone.
The seers circled her, hands raised, eyes glowing faintly silver beneath their veils. The air hummed, a strange weight pressing on every heart.
"This one is marked," the seers intoned. "We see the shadow curled within her, whispering. We see chains that are not chains. She is touched by the Forgotten One."
Murmurs rose among the warriors. Some spat. Others crossed themselves.
The eldest seer raised her hand. "She must face the Trial. If she is vessel, the shadow will claim her. If she is innocent, the light will preserve her."
Alusya's lips parted. Her gaze darted to Ahayue. His jaw clenched. He wanted to rush forward, to tear her from them—but the seer's gaze held him like a snare.
"This is not your trial, boy," she said. "It is hers alone."
Part IV – The Trial
They placed her in the center of the shrine, upon a cracked altar of pale stone.
The seers began to chant, their voices weaving a low rhythm that vibrated through the ground. The pools of water shimmered, rising like liquid mirrors. Light fell from the moon in a shaft that struck Alusya's body.
Her vision wavered.
The world fell away.
She stood in darkness—a vast void where the stars bled and the moon hung shattered.
And from that darkness, he came.
The Forgotten God. Not fully formed, not flesh, but a towering shadow given suggestion of form: eyes like dying embers, hands reaching yet never touching.
"Child," he said, voice warm, almost tender. "They cast you aside. They feared you. But I… I stayed. I whispered. I held you when none would. Do you not see? You are mine, and I am yours."
Alusya shook, tears burning her cheeks. "You feel warm. But you are wrong. You want me only because I can carry you."
He smiled, and the void trembled. "Would you rather the cold light of the Moon Father? He who abandoned your family? Who let them die in shame while he watched from above? You call that god pure?"
The light grew harsh, searing. The broken moon in her vision reformed, a cold silver eye glaring down.
A second voice rang out—distant, cold, commanding.
"Prove yourself, child. Resist the shadow, or be burned away with it."
The pain was unbearable. Caught between searing light and suffocating shadow, Alusya screamed.
Part V – Breaking Point
She saw flashes—her brother falling with an arrow in his chest, her family's bodies burning, her tribe turning their backs.
She saw herself small, cold, starving, the god whispering warmth into her bones.
She saw Ahayue standing in firelight, calling her name, offering her food with rough hands, his voice steady when hers was shaking.
In the void, she fell to her knees, clutching her chest. The Forgotten God's hands stretched toward her.
"Choose me," he whispered. "And you will never be alone again."
Her lips trembled. For a heartbeat, she almost reached for him.
But then she remembered Andalusia's words that Ahayue once told her: Warmth can be a lie.
Alusya forced herself to rise. Tears streaked her cheeks.
"No," she whispered. "You are not my warmth. He is. And I will not give myself to you."
The void cracked with soundless thunder. The Forgotten God's eyes burned with fury and grief.
"You may resist me," he hissed. "But you cannot deny me. I am in you. And I will wait."
The moonlight struck, blinding, and the void shattered.
Part VI – Verdict
Alusya collapsed to the stone floor of the shrine. Her chest heaved, tears soaking her face.
The seers stood still, their chanting ceased. The eldest lowered her veil just enough to reveal eyes like twin moons.
"She is touched," the seer said. "But she is not lost. The shadow clings, yet she clings to light. Her trial is not ended, but neither has she fallen."
The warriors erupted. Some shouted that she should be killed. Others whispered that perhaps she was chosen. None were satisfied.
The eldest seer turned to Ahayue. Her gaze pierced him.
"Protect her, boy. The shadow will return. The gods themselves now watch her fate. And when gods watch… mortals bleed."
Part VII – The Cliffhanger
The survivors left the shrine in turmoil, muttering like wolves with no leader. Alusya walked beside Ahayue, silent, eyes lowered.
That night, when the others slept, she whispered to him:
"It laughed, Ahayue. Even as I refused it, it laughed. It said it would wait. What if I cannot fight it forever?"
He took her hand, rough against her small fingers. "Then I will fight with you. Even if it costs me everything."
Her lips trembled. She squeezed his hand like a lifeline.
But deep within her, the Forgotten God's whisper echoed:
You may cling to him now. But one day, when the moon is dark, you will call for me again.
And in the silence of the mountain night, the moon itself seemed colder, as though already preparing to vanish.