The Night the Moon Bleeds
847 Words
The moon was supposed to shine silver.
That was what the elders had always said.
For hundreds of years, the people of Asteria had gathered beneath its light, believing the Moon Festival was a night of blessings, laughter, and protection.
But tonight…
The moon was red.
Lyra stood frozen among the crowd, unable to look away.
The music continued.
The villagers danced.
Children chased each other between glowing lanterns.
Everyone was celebrating beneath a sky that had changed without their permission.
“Lyra?”
Mira’s voice pulled her back.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Lyra swallowed.
“Do you see it?”
Mira followed her gaze.
“The moon?”
Lyra nodded slowly.
“It’s not supposed to look like that.”
Mira laughed softly.
“Of course it is. The elders said the moon always looks different during the festival.”
But Lyra knew.
She had seen hundreds of paintings of the Moon Festival inside the village hall.
Silver moon.
Silver lanterns.
Silver decorations.
Never red.
Never like this.
Her fingers moved toward the pendant around her neck.
The moment she touched it, a sharp warmth spread through her hand.
Lyra gasped.
“What happened?”
Mira noticed immediately.
“Your necklace?”
Lyra quickly pulled her hand away.
“It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t.
The pendant had never reacted before.
Not once.
A strange feeling settled inside her chest.
Like something had awakened.
Across the village, an old woman dropped a bowl she was carrying.
The sound echoed through the cottage.
Lyra’s grandmother stared through the window.
The Crimson Moon had returned.
After all these years.
Her hands trembled as she reached beneath the wooden table and pulled out the hidden box.
Inside was the same ancient letter she had opened earlier.
But this time, she unfolded another piece of paper hidden beneath it.
A name was written across the page.
Lyra.
Her grandmother closed her eyes.
“I prayed this day would never come.”
The festival continued, but Lyra could no longer enjoy it.
Every laugh sounded distant.
Every song felt wrong.
She looked around at the people she had grown up with.
The villagers she knew.
The place she called home.
Why did it feel like she was standing outside of it all?
Like everyone belonged except her.
“Come on,” Mira said, pulling her toward the dancing crowd.
“You’re thinking too much again.”
Lyra smiled faintly.
“Maybe.”
But before she could move, she stopped.
Someone was watching her.
She turned quickly.
At the edge of the village, beyond the lanterns and celebrations, a figure stood between the trees.
Tall.
Still.
Hidden by darkness.
Lyra blinked.
The figure disappeared.
“Lyra?”
Mira looked at her.
“What are you staring at?”
She looked back toward the forest.
Nothing.
Only trees moving in the wind.
“I thought I saw someone.”
Mira shrugged.
“Probably just someone who got tired of dancing.”
But Lyra knew what she saw.
Someone had been waiting.
Watching.
When Lyra finally returned home, the village was quieter.
The lanterns still glowed outside, but the celebration was slowly ending.
Her grandmother was waiting for her.
Not sleeping.
Not preparing for bed.
Waiting.
Lyra immediately knew something was wrong.
“Grandma?”
The older woman looked at the pendant around her neck.
For a moment, there was fear in her eyes.
Real fear.
“Where did you get this?”
Lyra frowned.
“You gave it to me.”
“I know.”
Her grandmother stepped closer.
“When?”
Lyra thought about it.
“I don’t remember. I’ve had it since I was little.”
Her grandmother looked away.
“That is what worries me.”
Lyra’s heart tightened.
“What are you not telling me?”
Silence.
The same silence from earlier.
The kind that carried more answers than words.
“Grandma…”
Before her grandmother could respond, the wind outside suddenly became stronger.
The candles inside the cottage flickered.
Then went out.
Lyra froze.
From somewhere outside…
A howl echoed through the night.
Not like a normal wolf.
Something deeper.
Something ancient.
Her grandmother’s face changed.
The fear returned.
“Lyra,” she whispered.
“Go inside.”
Lyra stared at her.
“What?”
“Lock the door.”
“Why?”
Her grandmother looked toward the window.
Because whatever had been sleeping beneath the Crimson Moon…
Was beginning to wake.
And somehow…
It had found her.
Far beyond the human lands, inside a castle surrounded by darkness, a young woman stood before a throne.
The Crimson Moon shone through the tall windows.
“Father.”
The man sitting before her opened his eyes.
“It has appeared.”
She lowered her head.
“The Moon Heir?”
A calm smile touched his face.
“Not yet.”
The young woman studied him.
“Then what do we do?”
The king looked toward the red moon.
“We wait.”
And somewhere in the distance…
A forgotten legend opened its eyes.
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