Sundered by Sun and Moon

1. Lora

Lora

Vicious purple light slashed between the trees ahead, unnatural against the murky forest, as if the air itself had been ripped open.

Apprehension twisted in my chest as I eased forward through ferns and shrubs, careful not to let my boots squelch in the mud. Dim sunlight sifted through the canopy, too weak to pierce the constant gloom of this dark and sinister place.

Cloaking shadows already swirled around me, but I curled my fingers, tugging them closer. The inky shroud thickened—not dense enough to blind me, but enough to conceal me from prying eyes.

My throat tightened as I pushed aside low-hanging moss for a clearer view ahead. The glowing sliver hung suspended between gnarled trees—an arm’s length of eerie shimmer, no wider than my hand. Otherworldly light bled through the gash, staining the surrounding trunks violet.

Moon’s mercy, it was exactly like the rift, the massive wound in the world’s skin where monsters crawled through. But that was leagues away, and large enough to swallow an entire town. A tiny tear like this was unheard of.

I turned to run, to warn my people, but a raspy groan drifted through the silence. Not the growl of a monster. Human.

Every muscle tensed as I listened, perfectly still. Humid air clung to my skin, heavy with the stink of decay. The sound came again—the pained moan of a man.

Someone was in there. Trapped. I’d never heard of anything like this. But I couldn’t just leave him. I brushed aside a jet-black curl that had come loose from my braid and stepped closer. I had to get him out.

My fingers wove through the air, pulling tendrils of water from nearby puddles. The liquid vines glistened in the dim light as I pushed them against the edges of the gap. But they only seeped through, too fluid to widen the opening.

Twirling my fingers, I threaded cold into the water. It froze and expanded, prying the edges of the rift apart until it ripped open like fabric splitting at the seams. The tear opened all the way to the ground—and a man tumbled out, crashing into the damp grass at my feet.

Too loud. My gaze darted through the trees, searching for movement.

Any shadow could conceal the leathery hide or curling horns of a monster.

I’d been tracking a rift-hound through the area, and the trail had been fresh.

Moss hung in ragged curtains between the trees, and dark pools reflected the gray canopy like gaping mouths. But nothing stirred.

My shoulders relaxed, and I released my grip on the darkness swirling around me. The world snapped into clarity as the shadows retreated into the roots and undergrowth where they belonged.

The man’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His burnished brown hair fell across his forehead in a tousled mess.

The purple tear sealed behind him, shrinking to nothing, as if its purpose had been fulfilled. What in the turning tides was happening? The real rift never closed. If anything, it kept expanding year after year.

His clothes were scorched and torn. I crouched beside him and scanned for injuries or burn marks.

But unlike his singed garments, his skin was unharmed.

His lanky build and callused hands seemed shaped by physical labor rather than combat training.

Why would someone like him be trapped inside a miniature rift?

His eyes blinked open—warm hazel, bright against his tawny skin. “What happened? Who are you?” His gaze snapped to the trees behind me. “Where am I?”

Grabbing his arm, I helped him sit. “I’m Lora. You’re in Blightlands. And I have no idea what happened to you. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Blightlands?” he hissed. “Why is it called that?”

I rocked back on my heels, studying him. How could he not know what Blightlands was?

His earnest eyes carried an unguarded expression, stripped bare of any pretense. If I had to guess, I’d say he was close to my own twenty-one years, or possibly a bit younger. His simple clothes bore Moon Queendom colors, blue and green over a base of gray.

But for all I knew, he could be a Sun Kingdom spy in disguise.

My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? You just fell out of a tiny version of the rift—the very place monsters come from.”

“What?” His eyes darted around as he crawled backward. “What monsters?”

His fingers landed in a puddle, and he yelped, jerking his arm away. Water surged up, pulled along by his hand in a chaotic spiral.

My eyebrows shot up. A moon wielder. Definitely not a spy, then. That was a relief, at least.

He shrieked, flailing his arms as if surprised by his own power. Water splashed to the ground as he scrambled away.

“Easy.” I grabbed his shoulder, leaning in to catch his gaze.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Did I do that?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, frowning. “You’re a moon wielder. Didn’t you know?”

His gaze darted around, panic etching into his features.

“Hey, look at me.” My thumb brushed his shoulder in a soothing rhythm. “Calm down and we’ll sort this out. Why don’t you start by telling me who you are?”

His lips parted, then pressed together. “I—I don’t know.”

I raised a brow. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head, voice pitching higher. “I don’t remember anything!”

“Shh.” I glanced around. “Keep it down. We’re not alone out here.”

“You mean… monsters?” he hissed, eyes wide.

I gave a sharp nod, keeping my voice low. “Do you remember anything about being trapped in that rift?”

His gaze shifted to where the shimmer had vanished, and the panic in his eyes softened to confusion. “I remember purple light swirling around me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t get out. Until something set me free.” His eyes returned to me. “You.”

I frowned. Maybe he’d stumbled into the rift at the heart of Blightlands and somehow carved a pocket within it, a fragment that had broken loose and drifted here. It seemed absurd, but I couldn’t think of any other explanation.

Biting my lip, I studied him—mud-streaked and terrified, scanning the swamp with bewildered eyes. Ebbs and darkness, I couldn’t abandon him. Not when he didn’t even know what a sodden monster was. I had to get him out.

My fingers curled into fists. I desperately wanted a kill today. But hauling this stranger through the undergrowth, stumbling and yelping at every shadow, would leave us too exposed for attacks.

Grunting, I stood, brushing mud from my knees. “Come on. I’ll get you out of Blightlands.”

He climbed to his feet, and I had to tip my chin up to meet his gaze. He was at least a head taller than me, all gangly awkwardness, like he was still catching up to his own height.

His gaze trailed over my purple and gray outfit. “Are you some kind of warrior?”

I glanced down at my gear, reinforced with monster-hide leather—the best material for sneaking through underbrush and protecting vital body parts during a hunt. “In a sense. I’m a monster hunter.”

His eyes widened. “You hunt them?”

Nodding, I gestured for him to follow as I took the lead toward my boat.

His hushed voice drifted from behind. “What kind of monsters are we talking about?”

A pang of sympathy squeezed my chest. The rift must have stripped his memory, leaving him completely disoriented. But this wasn’t the time for explanations.

“The kind drawn to loud noises. So keep your voice—”

A rustle beside us sent a jolt of anticipation up my spine. I spun just as the creature lunged from the underbrush. Curved horns jutted from its skull, and obsidian skin stretched over corded muscle.

The rift-hound I’d been tracking. An ash-maw, to be precise. One of the largest I’d encountered, its back reaching my waist.

My hands moved on instinct, drawing liquid from nearby puddles. I drove cold into the water, crystallizing it into an ice barrier between the beast and us. The rift-hound smashed straight into the shield, cracking it.

The man gasped and ducked behind me. Good. I couldn’t waste time worrying about him running away.

The monster shook its head and torso, muscles rippling beneath taut skin. Its predatory eyes glowed purple in the dim forest. Saliva dripped from fangs the length of my fingers, and black smoke curled from its growling mouth.

I gathered more water and shaped it into a spear above us, threading cold into it.

Sharp horns slammed into my already fractured shield. Fresh cracks branched across the ice. The man yelped at the impact—and red-hot flames erupted beside us.

Fire.

Actual fire.

The heat blasted into us, knocking my spear sideways. It shattered against a tree in a spray of glittering shards. I stumbled back as searing air licked across my skin. The stench of scorched moss and burning rot filled my nose.

The man stared at his own glowing palms, his face twisted in panic.

Sun wielding.

Impossible.

My mind reeled, refusing to accept what should not exist. Moon and sun powers never resided in the same person.

His gaze flicked behind me. “Watch out!”

He flung his hands up, and heat exploded at my back. Without thinking, I threw myself into his chest, slamming us both to the ground. Flames seared past overhead, missing us by inches.

The scent of singed underbrush stung my nose as I shot to my feet and spun to face the beast. A few paces away, the earth was scorched black, moss and roots still glowing. The creature lay on its side, thrown off course. But it scrambled upright, violet eyes fixed on me.

I cloaked the beast in darkness, momentarily confusing it with an inky shroud impossible to see through. Pulling water from nearby puddles, I shaped it into spikes while feeding cold into the liquid, freezing it solid.

When the ash-maw lunged from the darkness with a roar, I hurled the spikes into its chest, piercing the thick hide. Black blood sprayed across the moss as the creature thrashed. With a forward thrust, I drove another spike into its throat, straight through the brain.

The beast collapsed with a heavy thud.

Glancing around, I scanned our surroundings for other monsters. Luckily, ash-maws were highly territorial, keeping rival creatures away. We were safe for now.