Crescent Rebirths: Secrets of the Blood Moon

The sound of Myra's footsteps resounded across Brentwood's dimly illuminated streets. The hoots of owls concealed in the old trees that bordered the road followed her as she walked down the street in a creepy cadence. In the quietness of the fantastic evening, her mind was perturbed by lonely and sad memories. She had a tough time filling the vacuum left in her heart after her parents died on that fateful day in a horrible car crash. With every passing day, Myra's heart ached, and her pain and anguish became heavier. “Myra, we found you on our doorstep with a note that spelled your name, and this necklace roped into your tiny hands." Myra's grieving thoughts strayed to her final exchange with her parents just before they hopped in the car, and she never saw them again. As she relived that moment for the millionth time, she wished that fateful day that she had not uttered those terrible things to them. “Mum, what do you mean? What are you trying to say?” She inquires frantically right after her mum relayed the news to her. Myra cried out, "Dad! What is mum talking about?" Her dad answered, trying his best to hide his sadness, "Honey, you need to calm down. Listen to your mum." Her mother then continued, "We searched everywhere for your birth parents, but it felt like the universe wanted you to be ours, my sweet little girl." As she approached Myra, her voice broke, and she quickly stepped back, lifting her hands in amazement and disbelief. Within the span of less than five minutes, Myra experienced all five phases of grieving, ranging from shock and denial to a rush of agony and sadness. "Myra, you've been living a big, stupid lie your entire life! Whoa!” Myra blurts out angrily, still in astonishment and trying to make sense of it all. "We have taken every precaution to keep you safe because we love you.” Trying not to lose his calm, her father says, "Em, you will always be our little girl." “Dad, for some reason, my parents couldn't tell me that I wasn't their biological child, even though I was 25 years old. You had 25 years, Dad!" Myra breaks down in tears. Her mother, in tears, "Myra, listen to me. No matter what happens, we love you so much and want what is best for you." "You don't lie to people you love, Mum, so I doubt that! How were you both able to hide this from me? For a long time!" Myra yells. "I'd rather not be around you! You two lie to me and make me sad!" Get out of my house, please!" she gestures toward the door, screaming. Her father reaches for her arm and says, "Myra, you must let us explain." Glancing up, her eyes are teary and as cold as ice. “Forget it, Mr. Riley! Leave before I say something we would all regret; you should have explained ages ago.” With haste, her mother approaches her and places the necklace in her hands, whispering, "Myra, follow your heart, my sweet girl. You are the only person you can trust." Mr. Riley walks up to his wife in two swift steps, takes her arm, and assists her in getting into his car. With tears running down her cheeks, Myra stared out the window as they drove away. She stroked her fingers over the necklace, pressed it into her palms, and pulled it toward her face for a closer look. An engraving of a crescent and what seemed like a beast was found on the back of the pendant. She takes a long breath; that was the last moment she had felt remotely at peace. “Oh s**t!” Myra cursed under her breath as she missed a step. She could hear the distant talk of a group of people ahead as she battled to regain her footing. Mia wandered faster out of curiosity and soon found herself at the door of a small, darkly lit tavern called the "Whispering Grove." In contrast to the odd silence of the forests, the laughter and conversation at the bar produced an inviting atmosphere. She inhaled deeply and found the courage to enter the tavern. Inside, a mixed crowd of residents and visitors occupied the bar and different tables, their voices merging into a comforting murmur. The total opposite of the silence and solitude to which she was used. "This...is a good thing, Myra," she mumbled, trying vainly to cheer herself up. It felt like so long ago that she was happy and ventured into the world. For a long while, the only feeling she could connect with was pain. Selecting an unoccupied bar stool, she gestured to the bartender, a pot-bellied man with a mop of graying hair and a welcoming smile. "Would you like a drink to take the edge off, ma'am?" inquired the man. He whipped a glass of whiskey and placed it toward Myra as she nodded. She gave a small smile and took a sip. "Whiskey sucks," Myra whimpered. “Yeah, so does life.” said the man at the next barstool, idly staring at his glass of beer. Myra turned to face the most stunning man with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. She gave him a warm smile and gestured towards him. "Aha! Sucks to be you right now.” She laughed. Myra felt her stomach do cartwheels when the man held out his hand and sized her up with his intense blue eyes. "Name's Connor. Welcome to Brentwood, newbie." Myra shook Connor's hand, her cheeks red as a cherry. "I'm Myra, an astrophysicist." "An astrophysicist, huh? You might be just the person Brentwood needs," Connor quipped with a playful grin. Before Myra could find out what he meant, a group of locals nearby began discussing the town's mysterious history. "Have you heard the tales about the mythical forest?" one man said. Another chimed in, "There are strange things that happen in these parts." Curiosity stirred in Myra. "What tales are you talking about?" “Astrophysicist much?” Connor snarled. “Sarcastist much?” Myra hissed. She wasn't in the mood for sarcasm tonight. Her words stung him a little, and he didn't understand why it bothered him. Connor leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Brentwood has a past shrouded in mystery. From the ancient forests to the supernatural stories passed down through generations, there's more to this town than what meets the eye." Myra's interest was piqued, and she was engrossed in the stimulating conversation. As the evening went on, she realized that perhaps, in Brentwood, she might discover more than just the past mysteries—she might also find a means to heal her wounded heart. But as the hours passed and the conversation continued, an abrupt chill struck the room, ending the spirited laughter. The pub's door flew wide, revealing a dark silhouette staring at Myra. Myra looked to see who had come in as a low murmur filled the space. The words of the mysterious visitor sent thrills down her spine, and her heart rate spiked. "Myra, we've been searching for you. You're in grave danger."