Blood and Moonlight

Prologue I remember dying. Not in the vague, dreamlike way people describe when they "almost" do—no, I remember the warmth leaving my body, the metallic scent of my own blood, and the cold, cruel smile of the person who ended me. My killer’s eyes were the last thing I saw—calm, almost bored, as if my life was nothing but an inconvenience they had finally erased. I thought that was the end. Darkness, silence, nothing. But when I woke again, it wasn’t to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital or the muffled cries of mourning. I was lying on a canopy bed draped in crimson velvet, my fingers clutching silk sheets. My heartbeat echoed in my ears—not frantic, but different, deeper, like the sound belonged to someone else. That’s when I realized… I wasn’t me anymore. The mirror confirmed it: pale skin that seemed to glow under moonlight, silver hair that caught fire under candlelight, and eyes the color of fresh-spilled wine. I didn’t just wake up in another body—I woke up in another world. A world I knew far too well, because I’d read about it before. This was the world of Blood and Moonlight—a book where ancient vampires ruled the night, and ruthless werewolf packs hunted the forests. A story where war brewed between fangs and claws, and love was as dangerous as any blade. The problem? The girl whose body I now inhabited… was fated to die in the first act. And her death would spark the blood feud that would burn the world. I’ve already died once. I refuse to die again. But surviving here means navigating a game of seduction and suspicion, where every smile hides a set of fangs, and every kiss might be a prelude to betrayal. And somewhere out there—lurking in shadow—my killer from my first life might just be waiting for me. My name is Astrid, and this time… I’ll rewrite the ending. Even if I have to spill blood to do it.