The Brewed Heart

Chapter Seventeen

The Blood Moon's Secret

(Luca' POV)

The silence stretched between them after her last words, thick as fog and just as fragile. Luca stared at the parchment in front of him, but the words had long since blurred. His eyes followed the inked lines, but his mind was miles away, swirling with questions, fear, and something deeper—a pull that he couldn’t quite name.

Something had shifted. Subtly, quietly—but it was there. The idea of mates hung between them like a candle’s flame, casting soft, flickering shadows neither of them could ignore. Luca could feel the weight of it, something ancient and unexplainable shifting in the space between them.

Finally, Luca spoke, his voice a quiet whisper that broke the stillness. “The Blood Moon…”

He glanced at her, the question already forming, his thoughts tumbling over one another. “What is it, exactly? Why is it so important?”

Althea inhaled, her chest rising slowly, like she’d been waiting for him to ask. Her gaze softened as she met his, but there was something else in her eyes—something like a quiet surrender. Without a word, she rose from the floor and moved toward the far side of the library, the silken rustle of her robes filling the room with the quiet hum of her magic. He watched her, unable to tear his eyes

away.

After a moment of careful searching, Althea pulled out a long, thin scroll bound in deep crimson ribbon. She returned to him and laid it between them, her fingers brushing over the edges like it was something precious—because it was.

“This,” she said, unrolling it gently, “is the oldest known record of the Blood Moon. It only appears once every few years… and when it does, the world feels it.”

The scroll revealed painted depictions of the moon in different phases—each inked in varying shades of red. One was pale rose, another a deep, almost black crimson, swirling with shadow and magic. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was like something ancient and powerful had been etched into those pages—something that felt more alive than any ink he’d ever seen.

“It’s called a Blood Moon because of its color,” she continued, her voice low and almost reverent, “but the name has other roots too.”

Luca leaned in, his gaze following her every movement, every word. Her voice—it was like the moon itself, soft yet undeniably powerful. It made his chest ache in a way he didn’t understand, as though her words were pulling something from deep inside him, awakening something long dormant.

“The moon turns red during a total lunar eclipse, when the Earth casts its shadow over it. But for witches and other magical beings, it’s much more than that.”

Luca couldn’t look away. He was hanging on every word she spoke. Her voice, the way it resonated with him, like it was written just for him, set his pulse racing. He felt alive in a way he never had before, but it was a dangerous kind of alive. The kind that pulled at the edges of his resolve.

“During the Blood Moon,” Althea said, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the ancient images, “magic becomes… raw. Wild.

Unfiltered. The veil between worlds thins. Spirits stir. Old truths surface. It’s a time when hidden bonds can no longer stay buried.”

She looked up at him then, and their gazes locked. Her eyes caught the flickering lantern light, her gaze a soft, pale emerald, but there was something sharp in them now—something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“It’s when a kiss can break enchantments… or reveal them. It’s when fate dares to speak out loud.”

His heart pounded. The air felt thick, and his mind spun with the weight of her words. His mouth was dry, and all he could think about was that one word she had said so softly—kiss.

The bond. The one that had always lingered between them, unspoken, fragile but undeniable. The one that had pulsed like an unanswered question every time she was near.

Luca swallowed hard. “And the mate bond?” he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded slowly. “If it exists, the Blood Moon pulls it to the surface. One kiss—just one—and it either confirms the bond, or…”

Her voice trailed off, and the silence filled the space between them like a heavy fog.

“Or nothing happens,” he finished for her, quietly.

She gave him a sad, almost bitter smile. “Yes. Some people wait their whole lives to kiss someone under the Blood Moon. Others are too afraid to ever try.”

Luca leaned back, his thoughts swirling, pulling in every direction. The weight of what she was saying hit him, settling into his chest like a leaden stone. The Blood Moon was days away, three nights from now. The same moon that could reveal everything about the bond that had begun to grow between them.

And now it was closer than ever. Too close.

He turned his gaze to the window, where the night sky stretched endlessly, a blanket of stars slowly fading into the approach of the

Blood Moon. He could feel it—deep in his bones, like a whisper he couldn’t ignore. The pull between them was undeniable, and yet...

He turned back to Althea, his heart hammering in his chest. “Have you ever kissed anyone under it?” he asked suddenly, the question spilling out before he could stop it.

It pained him to ask it. The thought of her with someone else, of her feelings for anyone but him, ached in a way that was almost unbearable. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer, but it slipped from his lips before he could think twice.

Althea looked at him, surprised, before she shook her head slowly. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve never trusted the feeling enough to risk it.”

Her words hit him like a splash of cold water. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. It was a small relief, but there was something else in her voice—something guarded, something he wasn’t sure he could reach.

Luca hesitated, his heart racing. “Do you trust it now?” he asked, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. His pulse thrummed, the excitement, the fear, all mixing together.

She looked at him then, really looked at him. Her eyes softened, something in them cracking open, like a door slowly being unlocked. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her words vulnerable in a way that made his chest ache.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, her breath warm against the space between them. “But I’m starting to trust you.”

And there it was.

Not fate. Not prophecy.

Just two people, caught in something deeper than they understood. It was raw, it was real, and yet it terrified him. Three nights from now, they would know the truth.

And something inside him wondered if he was ready to face it.