The morning after the Hollow Wraith attack dawned deceptively normal over Astren. Sunlight filtered through the trees with gentle warmth, children played in the streets with wooden swords and laughter that seemed a little too loud, and farmers tended their fields as they always had. On the surface, the village tried to pretend that nothing had changed. But those who paid attention could feel the shift in the air — a subtle tension that made conversations die mid-sentence and smiles feel slightly forced.
Stellan sensed it most acutely. The world no longer simply responded to him; it watched him with new intensity. Every step he took seemed to leave faint ripples in reality that only he could perceive. The river near his home flowed with a slightly different rhythm, as if singing a new song only he could hear. Birds followed him at a respectful distance. Even the wind seemed hesitant, brushing against his skin with careful reverence rather than its usual playful freedom.
He sat alone by the riverbank, knees drawn to his chest, trying to make sense of the previous night. The memory of the Wraith's claws digging into his arm still burned faintly, though there was no visible wound. The surge of power that had erupted from him in response still lingered in his veins like distant thunder.
"Stellan?" Lyra's voice called out softly. She approached carrying a small pouch of healing herbs, her honey-brown hair tied back loosely. She had barely slept, dark circles faint beneath her observant eyes.
He managed a small smile as she sat beside him. "I'm okay. Really."
She studied his face carefully, the way she always did — seeing more than most people ever could. "You don't have to pretend with me. I felt it too, you know. When that thing grabbed you… something inside me wanted to protect you. Like I was meant to."
Stellan nodded slowly. "The Seeker said there would be more coming. Hunters. Beings like Nyxara."
Lyra's expression darkened. "Then we face them together. I'm not leaving your side."
Her words carried a quiet strength that eased some of the weight on his shoulders. For the first time since his powers had begun awakening, Stellan felt like he wasn't carrying the burden completely alone.
Not far away, Ren moved through the village with a new, sharper edge to his presence.
He had barely slept. The encounter with Corvax and the shadow power he had claimed still hummed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. He could feel it now — always there, responsive, hungry for direction. It made him stronger, faster, but it also made the jealousy sharper, more focused.
When he passed a group of villagers near the market square, he overheard them whispering about the events of last night.
"…the Adrian boy fought off some kind of demon…"
"…born under the eclipse, of course he's special…"
Ren's jaw tightened. He kept walking, but the words dug into him like thorns. Every praise for Stellan felt like a personal slight against him. He had trained harder, bled more, sacrificed sleep and comfort — yet the world still looked at Stellan as if he were destined for greatness while treating Ren like an afterthought.
He found a quiet spot behind the old shrine and began training again. This time, he didn't hold back. He punched the air, and reality tore open slightly wider than before — a jagged rift that allowed glimpses of swirling darkness on the other side. The power felt intoxicating. Addictive.
Corvax's voice drifted from his shadow. "Good. You're finally accepting what you are."
Ren didn't reply. He simply struck again, pushing the limits of his new ability further. Each successful tear in space fueled the growing conviction in his heart: if the cosmos wouldn't give him what it gave Stellan so freely, then he would rip his destiny from its hands by force.
The Seeker spent the morning investigating the ashes of the Hollow Wraith. He knelt among the blackened remnants, pressing his fingers into the scorched earth. A faint, cold afterglow pulsed — dark and unnatural.
"Nyxara's influence is already this close," he murmured, concern deepening the lines on his face.
He stood and looked toward the village center. Two energies burned brightly now. One harmonious and radiant. The other jagged and rising like a wildfire. The Seeker knew the balance was tipping faster than anyone had anticipated.
High above the village, hidden from ordinary sight, the sky quivered.
It wasn't lightning. It wasn't a storm.
It was a blink.
A vast, circular distortion opened for the briefest moment — like an enormous eye flickering open and shut. Most villagers didn't notice. But Lyra did. She froze mid-step while carrying water, her basket nearly slipping from her hands.
"…Stellan," she whispered, fear and determination mixing in her voice.
She dropped everything and ran toward the river where she had last seen him.
Stellan sat by the river when the emissary arrived.
The air tore open cleanly above the water — a precise, surgical rift. From it emerged a tall, thin creature wrapped in swirling ink-like darkness. Its face was a blank, featureless mask. No eyes. No mouth. Only pure, focused hunger.
The animals panicked. Dogs howled. Birds scattered in chaotic flocks. The river itself seemed to recoil from the being.
Stellan rose slowly, heart pounding but stance steady. "What are you?"
The creature hovered above the ground, warping reality around its form. It tilted its blank face toward him, as if appraising a meal.
Lyra burst onto the scene, breathless. "Stellan! Behind you!"
He turned just as the emissary lunged — blindingly fast, straight toward him.
Ren arrived second, bursting through the trees with raw power already crackling around his fists.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" he roared.
His shout split the air. Shadow-laced energy erupted from him in violent waves. The emissary halted mid-lunge, its blank mask snapping toward Ren instead.
"Two," the creature rasped, its voice like scraping stone across bone. "Two ascendants."
Stellan froze. Ren's eyes widened at the word.
Two what?
Two hunted?
Two chosen?
Two inevitable rivals?
The Seeker appeared moments later in a flash of golden light, blade already drawn.
"NO—!" he shouted.
But it was too late.
The emissary's torso split open, revealing a spiraling miniature eclipse within. From that void, Nyxara's voice echoed across the clearing like distant, amused thunder:
"Nyxara sees you both."
The words carried terrible weight — a hunter's promise that sent chills down everyone's spine.
The emissary collapsed into ink and shadow, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. But the message had been delivered.
The hunt had officially begun.
Stellan, Ren, and Lyra stood together in stunned silence as the Seeker scanned the area warily. The air still hummed with residual power. The river had gone completely still, as if afraid to make a sound.
Ren looked at Stellan, his expression unreadable. The jealousy that had been simmering for weeks now had fresh fuel — not just from Stellan's power, but from the fact that even the hunters now acknowledged them both.
Yet in Ren's heart, a dark thought took root and began to grow:
If they see us as equals… then I will make sure I become the greater one.