“The Blood Moon’s Shadow,” Part 2.
1095 Words
The castle corridors roared with movement. Guards sprinted down the marble hall, torches flaring as if the flames themselves were afraid. At the far end, a tall woman swept through the commotion like a storm wrapped in silk.
Lady Eryndra, Court Sorceress of Astravale, moved without sound. The crimson light of the Blood Moon painted her silver hair a deep copper. Her eyes—pale as frost—found King Alaric before he spoke.
“She’s waking, isn’t she?” Eryndra’s voice was calm, but her hands twitched once around the staff she carried.
Alaric nodded. “The power struck without warning. She’s in pain.”
“Pain,” the sorceress murmured, “is the body remembering what the soul already knows.” She pushed past him into the chamber.
Serenity lay curled on the bed, shivering though sweat soaked her nightdress. The crescent pendant blazed, its light pulsing to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Each pulse sent a faint shimmer through the air, bending it like heat above fire.
Eryndra knelt beside her. “Child,” she whispered, “look at me.”
Serenity’s eyes snapped open—one silver, one red. For an instant, the red deepened until it swallowed the silver completely. The torches sputtered out.
Eryndra didn’t flinch. She placed two fingers against Serenity’s temple and began to chant, words older than kingdoms slipping from her tongue. Symbols of pale light unfurled across the walls, curling like vines.
Liora hovered near the door. “Will she survive this?”
“If the gods favor her,” Eryndra said without pausing, “and if you stay very still.”
The magic hummed lower now, resonating with the child’s breathing. Serenity gasped once, twice—and the air exhaled with her. The red glow dimmed to a heartbeat of silver before vanishing altogether.
When the torches rekindled, Serenity was limp but breathing. The shattered mirror lay silent, every shard reflecting a different color of the moon.
Alaric’s shoulders sagged. “Is it over?”
Eryndra rose slowly, wiping a thin line of blood from beneath her nose. “No, my king. It has only begun.”
She turned toward the window, where the Blood Moon hung enormous and patient. “This night was written in the stars before any of us were born. The Tri-Brid’s power stirs under the bloodlight; three legacies fighting to claim one body.”
“Three?” Liora repeated.
Eryndra faced them. “Werewolf, witch, vampire. The ancient trinity. Their blood meets in her veins. On nights like this, the balance fractures.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened. “Then we will protect her. Hide her, if we must.”
“You can hide a crown,” Eryndra said, “but not a rising moon.”
She gathered the last shimmer of spelllight into her staff, sealing it with a low hum. “Keep her from the sky for the next cycle. When the moon bleeds again, she will not be a child.”
Dawn arrived gray and slow, its light crawling across the castle stones like a creature unsure of its welcome. The Blood Moon had sunk below the western hills, leaving the air heavy with the smell of iron and rain.
Serenity woke to the muted sounds of her mother’s weeping. The curtains were drawn tight, but the faintest sliver of daylight cut through, finding her face. Her skin felt cool; her heartbeat had steadied.
“Mother?” Her voice was rough, a whisper pressed through dry lips.
Liora rushed to her side. “Rest, my love. You frightened us half to death.”
“What happened?” Serenity’s gaze drifted to the shattered mirror now covered with a sheet. “Did I break it?”
Liora hesitated. “It was the storm,” she said softly. “A gust through the window, nothing more.”
Serenity frowned. Even at six she could taste a lie; it was metallic, the way blood smells on the tongue. But she said nothing.
Eryndra entered quietly, her robes whispering against the floor. The sorceress’s face looked older, drained. She set a small bowl of herbs on the table and began grinding them with a carved bone pestle.
“Drink this when it cools,” she instructed without looking up. “It will settle the fire in your blood.”
“What fire?” Serenity asked.
Eryndra’s eyes flicked to Alaric, who had stood silently in the doorway. For a heartbeat, the room felt divided—those who knew, and the child who didn’t.
“The kind that makes you strong,” Alaric said finally. He stepped forward, placing a steady hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You are… special, Serenity. The world may not understand it yet.”
“I don’t understand it either.”
He smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we will learn together.”
Eryndra gathered her things. “Keep her indoors until the moon wanes,” she murmured. “If she dreams, wake her. Do not let her sleep under open sky.”
When she left, the room felt colder.
That night, Serenity dreamed anyway.
She found herself standing in the forest again, though the trees were made of glass and the ground shimmered with frost. The moon above was neither red nor silver but black, and yet it burned with light.
A voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
“Three paths, one soul. Choose none, and all will claim you.”
She spun, searching the shadows. The black wolf emerged, its eyes molten gold.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The wolf’s breath formed mist. “Your blood remembers me.”
It stepped closer until its reflection filled her eyes, then turned away, fading into the glass trees. When it vanished, the world cracked apart with the sound of shattering mirrors—
Serenity bolted upright in her bed. The pendant around her neck glowed faintly, then went dark.
Outside her window, thunder rolled once over the forest, and a single wolf’s howl broke the dawn.
In the corridor beyond her door, Alaric and Eryndra spoke in low voices.
“She’s too young to bear this,” he said.
“She was never meant to be young for long,” Eryndra replied. “Each moon will bring her closer to what she is. You cannot stop the blood.”
Alaric’s hand clenched at his side. “Then we will protect her until she can protect herself.”
Eryndra inclined her head. “Pray that day comes before the world learns her name.”
- Writer
