Naomi and Aiden

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS Chapter One: The Blood Beneath the Moon The night my father died, the moon was red. and the sky stretched endlessly above us, dark and beautiful, while the moon hung between the clouds like a wound that refused to heal. “Do you see that, Naomi?” he asked. I followed his gaze. “The moon?” He nodded slowly. “When I was your age, my father told me that a red moon appears when the world is trying to tell us something.” I laughed. “And what is it trying to tell us?” For a moment, he said nothing. My father, Kairo, was not a man who frightened easily. He had spent most of his life in the forests surrounding Aroku, tracking animals through thick undergrowth. He knew the forest better than anyone I had ever met. He could recognise an animal by the shape of its footprints and tell how long ago it had passed simply by touching the earth. Yet that evening, something in his eyes made him look like a stranger. “It tells us to remember that even the things we believe we understand can hide secrets,” he finally said. I rolled my eyes. “Father, you always make everything sound mysterious.” He laughed, and the sound warmed me more than the fire burning beside our doorway. “You are too curious for your own good, little bird.” “And you are too dramatic.” He reached out and tapped my forehead with one finger. “One day, that curiosity will take you farther than your feet have ever travelled.” I smiled at him. “Then you will come with me.” His smile softened. “Yes,” he said. “If the world allows it.” I wish I had understood why he said those words. I wish I had looked at him longer, memorised the lines beside his eyes, the roughness of his hands, and the way his smile made every problem in my world seem small. But I was seventeen, and seventeen-year-olds rarely understand that ordinary moments can become the memories they spend the rest of their lives trying to return to. That was the last evening I saw my father alive. --- Aroku Village was a place the modern world had nearly forgotten.It rested between green hills and an ancient forest, far from the cities whose names occasionally drifted into our village through radios and travellers. Our houses were built from earth, wood, and stone. In the mornings, smoke rose from cooking fires, roosters announced the sunrise, and women carried baskets to the market while children raced along dusty paths.Life was simple, but it was never empty. We knew our neighbours. We celebrated together, mourned together, and remembered the names of those who had come before us. The elders taught us the traditions of our ancestors, and the forest provided food, medicine, and stories that were passed from one generation to another.My mother, Nikita, used to say that Aroku was not merely the place where we lived.It was the place that lived inside us.I believed her.At least, I did before the forest took my father. That night, I was helping my mother prepare supper when the first scream came.It was distant, almost swallowed by the wind.My hands stopped moving. “Mother, did you hear that?” She looked up from the pot. “Hear what?” Before I could answer, another scream tore through the darkness.This time, it was followed by shouting.My mother went still.Something crashed outside. Then came the sound of hurried footsteps, followed by a voice calling my father's name, Kairo.I dropped the wooden spoon. “Father!” I ran towards the door, but my mother caught my wrist. “Naomi, wait.” “Let me go!” “Stay here.” Fear had entered her voice, and that frightened me more than the screaming.I had never heard my mother sound afraid.She was the strongest woman I knew. When storms destroyed our crops, she found a way to feed us. When illness swept through the village, she sat beside the sick until their fevers broke. When my younger sister, Liora, had nightmares, Mother sang to her until she fell asleep.But now her fingers trembled around my wrist.Then someone struck our door with three hard blows.My mother released me.When she opened it, an elderly man stood on our doorstep. His clothes were stained with mud, and his breathing came in short, desperate gasps.It was Uncle Taren, my father's closest friend.He looked at my mother.Then he looked at me.And in that single moment, I knew. “No,” I whispered. Taren's lips parted, but no words came. “No.” “Naomi,” he began, his voice breaking. “Your father—” I pushed past him. I ran barefoot through the village, People stood outside their homes, Some were crying. Others stood frozen, I followed their gazes. A crowd had gathered near the eastern path, where the hunters usually returned before nightfall. And there, beneath the red moon, lay my father. For a moment, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. His hunting bow was broken beside him and the earth beneath his body had turned dark. His face, which had always seemed so familiar and unshakable, was terribly still. I had seen dead animals before. I had watched my father prepare them after a successful hunt. Death was something I understood in the distant, abstract way a child understands a storm. I dropped to my knees beside him. “Papa?” Nobody answered so i touched his cheek and It was cold. “No, no, no.” I shook his shoulder, desperately waiting for him to open his eyes and tell me this was some terrible joke. “Papa, wake up.” The silence was unbearable. “Please!” My scream rose into the night, searching for the heartbeat and there was nothing. Behind me, I heard my mother arrive. She made a sound I had never heard from another human being, Then she fell beside us. “My husband,” she whispered. She touched his face, and her tears fell onto his skin. For a long time, none of us moved. The villagers eventually carried my father home. The elders asked questions. The hunters spoke in hushed voices. Someone said they had found unfamiliar tracks near the forest boundary. But no one could explain what had happened. There had been no animal attack. He had been murdered. And whoever had done it had disappeared into the forest. We buried my father three days later. The entire village came to the funeral and I stood beside my mother while the elders lowered his body into the earth. I did not cry. Not because I wasn't hurting, but because the grief inside me was too large for tears, making every breath difficult. Liora clung to Mother's skirt, too young to understand why our father would never come home again. She kept asking when he would return. “I will find out who did this,” I whispered. My mother heard me. She turned sharply. “Naomi.” I looked at her. “I mean it.” She came closer, her eyes swollen from crying. “Your father would not want you to throw your life away chasing revenge.” “And what would he want me to do? Pretend nothing happened?” “Of course not.” “Then what?” She took both my hands. “He would want you to live.” I looked away. The villagers had warned everyone to stay away, but I could not stop thinking about the tracks Taren had mentioned. If my father had encountered someone out there, perhaps he had left something behind. I searched until the sun disappeared. Near a cluster of stones, I found a small piece of black metal pressed into the earth. Its surface was smooth, almost polished, and a strange symbol had been engraved into it. A circle crossed by two narrow lines. I turned it over in my palm. Something about the symbol made my stomach tighten. Then I heard a branch snap behind me. I spun around. The forest stood silent. “Who's there?” No answer so I took a step backwards. For one brief second, I thought I saw a figure between the trees, tall and motionless, watching me. Then the figure vanished. I ran home with the metal clenched in my fist. That night, I hid it beneath the loose floorboard beside my bed. I did not tell my mother. I did not tell Taren. I told myself I would return to the forest when I was brave enough to face whatever waited there. But I never got the chance. Because three weeks after my father's funeral, my mother announced that we were leaving Aroku. And the city she had chosen was a place I had only ever heard about in stories. Nebuda. --- The decision came on a rainy morning. Mother sat across from me at the kitchen table, Liora was outside with the neighbour's children, splashing through puddles and laughing. I envied her innocence. “Naomi,” Mother began, “we need to talk.” I continued peeling an orange. “About what?” “About our future.” I glanced at her. “What about it?” She took a breath. “We are leaving Aroku.” “What?” “We cannot stay here anymore.” I stared at her, waiting for a smile that never came. “This is our home.” “I know.” “Father is buried here.” “I know, Naomi.” “Then how can you even think about leaving him?” “Because I have already lost your father. I cannot lose you, too.” The word silenced me. She reached into her pocket and placed a folded letter on the table. “I received this from an old friend in Nebuda. She has offered us a place to stay until we find our feet. There are schools there, work opportunities, and a chance for you and Liora to build a future that does not depend on this village.” I shook my head. “I don't want a different future.” “Sometimes, my child, the future comes whether we want it or not.” I pushed away from the table. “No. You want to leave because you're afraid.” Her face changed. For a moment, I thought she might slap me. Instead, she lowered her eyes and folded her hands together. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I am afraid.” I had expected her to deny it. “I am afraid of the people who killed your father. I am afraid that whatever happened in that forest was not an isolated act. And I am afraid that if we remain here, I will wake up one morning and discover that I have lost another person I love.” My anger crumbled, leaving something more painful in its place. “What if we never come back?” She looked towards the window, where rain slipped down the glass. “Then we will carry Aroku with us.” I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that a place could not be folded into a suitcase, but I said nothing. I would go to Nebuda and would finish school. But I would never forget the red moon, the black metal, or the man who had taken my father's life. One day, I would return to Aroku. And I would discover the truth. One with dark eyes, a beautiful smile, and a name I would eventually learn to love, Aiden But that was a story for another day. For now, I was still Naomi of Aroku Village. And my world had already ended once.