The Blood Moon hung over Ashendel like a wound in the sky—oozing red light that spilled across the crumbling rooftops, painting the streets in shades of death. Fog curled between the buildings like fingers searching for something lost.
Above, the Green Stars shimmered, casting a soft, eerie glow over the land, their light washing the world in an unnatural green. Soon, the Blue Sun would rise—its first light edging the horizon, the flame-like pulse of its heat beginning to stir the land awake.
Vale Ashwood stood at the center of a cracked cobblestone street, his coat fluttering in the wind, hands buried deep in his pockets. He had seen the Blood Moon many times before.
But tonight—tonight—for the first time, he thought it beautiful.
His black-and-white suit was worn thin—patched, frayed, stained with the marks of past mistakes. Beneath his coat, pressed tight against his ribs, was not just a revolver, but something far more dangerous: a hunger he hadn't named yet.
A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Then he saw them—children crouched around a corpse, pale and starved. They tore into the body in silence, their black hair tangled, skin ghostly, their eyes dead. They didn't even blink when Vale passed.
The smile vanished.
If kindness could feed me, I'd be a saint.
This suit? The only one I have.
There are no gifts in this world.
If I must kill to survive—if I must lose myself…
Then so be it.
That's justice.
A voice broke through the fog.
"Vale Ashwood?"
He turned slowly. A woman stood beneath an iron archway, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the red haze. Her voice was soft, melodic—and unreadable.
"I'm Juli," she said. "The Hunter's Association is expecting you."
Vale glanced back at the children, then up—at the crimson moon burning in his reflection, the green stars flickering in the sky, and the blue sun creeping toward the horizon.
Survival is enough, he thought.
And with that, he stepped forward, crossing into the unknown