Where the Moon Hides.

In the hush before the hunt,
in the footfall that leaves no mark,
we walk.
The moon has a twin,
silver-veiled and silent
it hides behind us.
We are not nameless,
only forgotten on purpose.
You will not see us coming.
You will not hear our blades.
But when danger slips through cracks,
we are the cracks.
Call us spies, ghosts, watchers
but never enemies.
We are the House of the Shadow.
And we see what others wonβt.

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