Blood Moon Pact

The Awakening

The earth trembled beneath Lorien’s bare feet, cracks spiraling outward from the broken altar. The air pulsed with an unseen force, thick with power that set her skin alight. Shadows slithered across the ground, whispering in a tongue she did not understand.

Ronan yanked her forward. "We have to go, now!"

But Lorien barely heard him. Her gaze was locked onto Elder Riven, who stood unmoving, his expression carved from stone. The other Elders had begun to retreat, but Riven remained at the altar, his lips moving in silent incantation.

The whispers grew louder.

Then, something stirred beneath the ruins.

A deep, guttural sound—more felt than heard—resonated through the clearing. It clawed at Lorien’s mind, filling her head with images of bone, blood, and endless hunger.

The Hollow King was no longer just waking.

He was rising.

A fissure split the ground open, and from the darkness beneath, something began to emerge. A hand—blackened, clawed, dripping with a thick, inky substance—grasped the edge of the altar. The sight of it sent terror lancing through Lorien’s chest.

Riven turned to her, his cold smile widening. "You feel it, don’t you? The call of your true master."

"Shut up!" Ronan snarled, pulling his sword free.

Lorien’s heart pounded. She could feel it—the pull, the unnatural gravity tugging at her very soul. The Hollow King wasn’t just waking. He was calling her.

But why?

She staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The whispers twisted in her mind, forming words that wrapped around her like a noose.

"You were never meant to escape, child. You were meant to open the gate."

Realization slammed into her like a blade.

"I was never the sacrifice," she whispered. "I was the key."

Ronan’s grip tightened around her wrist. "Then we break the lock."

He spun, his sword slashing through the air. The blade sang as it met Elder Riven’s staff. Sparks erupted where metal met rune-carved wood. The impact sent Ronan stumbling back, but he recovered fast, his eyes burning with fury.

"You have no idea what you’re doing," Riven hissed.

"Neither do you," Ronan shot back.

Then he turned to Lorien. "Run."

The ground split wider. More hands—twisted, skeletal—began clawing their way out. The shadows coiled and screamed.

Lorien hesitated. If she ran now, she might live. But if she stayed… she might find the truth.

The Hollow King’s voice slithered into her mind once more.

"Come to me, child. And I will show you what you are."

She clenched her fists.

She had to make a choice.

And fast.