Blood and Moon

Chapter 4 – The Father’s Shadow

The church was always cold, even in summer.

The chill of years clung between the stones, along with the echo of old prayers.

Lara walked slowly between the pews as candle flames sent small shadows dancing across the walls.

Father Michael stood at the altar, his back to her, reading from a small black book.

She waited until he finished before speaking.

“Father… I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He turned slowly. His face was calm, but behind his eyes something lingered — not anger, but exhaustion.

“You came,” he said softly. “Most people avoid the church at this hour.”

“I don’t want trouble,” Lara said, sitting on the edge of a pew, hands clasped. “I just… want to understand. I found an old text in the library. Its title was Notes of the Bloodmoon Circle.”

Michael’s brow lifted slightly, but he said nothing.

“I only read one line,” she went on carefully. “It said, ‘When blood and moon are born together—’”

“Enough,” he interrupted. He didn’t raise his voice; it sounded more like he was holding himself back. “There are things you don’t need to know.”

“But everyone knows about it, don’t they?” she asked quietly. “They just don’t talk.”

He was silent for a long time. Then he sat beside her, his voice breaking slightly, as if the words had been locked away too long.

“The village has buried many things,” he said. “Some by earth, some by time. But sins… they remain.”

Lara studied his face, the lines deeper than his years should have allowed.

“The book said there was someone who defended the village,” she murmured. “The last one to bear the mark.”

“That wasn’t a story,” Michael replied. “It was a warning. The Bloodmoon Circle was a blessing once — until someone tried to break its law. Since then, it’s been nothing but a curse.”

Lara nodded silently. She knew pressing further would lead nowhere, yet she felt more truth lived between his words than within them.

“And the mark…” she began, but the priest was already rising to his feet.

“Don’t seek it, child,” he said. “The one who bears the mark cannot stay among us. It isn’t punishment — it’s order.”

After that, only the faint crackle of candles filled the space. Lara nodded and stood.

“Thank you, Father.”

But when she stepped outside, the sun had already dipped behind the hill, and the air had turned cold once more.

The bell rang once — a single, hollow sound, as if to warn her.

Lara brushed her fingers over the ring hidden in her coat pocket.

She wasn’t looking for anything — but something had already found her.