Episode 3: The Blood Moon’s Warning
803 Words
Viren stood frozen at his doorstep, his breath hitching as the metallic scent of dried blood filled his nostrils. The severed crow’s head lay motionless on the wooden floor, its glazed eyes fixed on something unseen. The strange symbol carved beneath it glowed faintly in the moonlight, as if pulsing with an eerie energy.
The whisper still lingered in the air—
"Come to the forest… or we will come for you."
A shiver crawled down his spine.
Was this some cruel prank? A villager trying to frighten him? Or… was something truly calling him?
Viren swallowed hard and looked around. The village was silent. Too silent. No rustling of leaves, no distant murmur of crickets—only an unnatural stillness that made his skin crawl.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped back inside, bolting the door shut. But sleep was impossible. His mind raced with questions, his pulse quickened with fear. The journal lay on his table, its pages open to the last cryptic passage he had read:
"Without the offering, the curse will awaken, and the shadows will reclaim what was stolen."
What offering? What curse?
Viren knew one thing for certain—whatever his ancestors had done centuries ago, it was far from over.
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The Stranger in the Village
The next morning, the sky was overcast, thick clouds shrouding the sun. The entire village seemed tense, as if the very air carried the weight of an unspoken fear.
As Viren walked toward the marketplace, he noticed something unusual—a stranger.
A man, draped in a long black shawl, stood at the village square, observing everyone with an unsettling stillness. His skin was pale, his eyes dark and sunken, and despite the humid air, he did not appear to sweat.
Viren approached cautiously.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The man slowly turned his head, a smile creeping onto his lips—a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"I have come… to witness." His voice was raspy, like dried leaves crackling underfoot.
Viren frowned. "Witness what?"
The man chuckled, tilting his head as if amused. "The awakening."
Viren’s stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"
Before the man could answer, Dattu Kaka appeared, grabbing Viren’s arm and pulling him away forcefully. His grip was unusually tight, his expression one of panic.
"Stay away from him," Dattu Kaka whispered fiercely.
"But who is he?" Viren asked.
Dattu Kaka’s eyes darted to the stranger, his face paling.
"A reminder of what is coming."
Viren’s blood ran cold.
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The Blood Moon Prophecy
That night, the villagers gathered at the temple for the monthly prayer session. The air was thick with the scent of incense, the flickering flames of oil lamps casting elongated shadows on the walls.
As the priest began his chants, the ground trembled slightly—a soft but distinct rumble that sent whispers through the crowd.
Then, a young girl screamed.
Everyone turned. The girl, no older than ten, was pointing at the sky, her face stricken with terror.
Viren followed her gaze and felt his breath leave his body.
The moon was no longer white.
It was deep red—like spilled blood.
A Blood Moon.
Gasps filled the temple. The old villagers clutched their rosaries, muttering prayers.
"It has begun again," an elderly woman whispered.
Viren turned to her. "What has begun?"
She hesitated, as if afraid to speak. But after a long pause, she said, "The last time the Blood Moon shone over Durgavan, people disappeared. Some were never seen again. Some… returned, but they were never the same."
Viren’s skin prickled. "When was the last time this happened?"
The woman’s eyes met his.
"The year your great-grandfather vanished into Kaali Van."
A cold dread settled in Viren’s chest.
The Blood Moon was a warning.
The forest was waking up.
And it wanted him.
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The Drums of Kaali Van
That night, long after the temple gathering had dispersed, Viren sat on his bed, gripping the journal tightly. His ancestors had left behind clues, but they made no sense to him.
Then, at exactly midnight, he heard it.
A low, rhythmic drumbeat.
His breath hitched.
The sound was faint but unmistakable—coming from the direction of Kaali Van.
The forest was calling again.
Viren clenched his fists. He had spent his whole life dismissing these stories. But now, with the moon stained red, the whispers in the wind, and the eerie drumbeats growing louder…
He knew.
This was real.
Something was coming.
And it was coming for him.
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To Be Continued…
What is the Blood Moon’s true significance? Who is the mysterious stranger in the village? And what awaits Viren in the depths of Kaali Van? The past is clawing its way into the present… and Viren has no choice but to face it.
- Writer
