LEGACY OF THE MOONBLOOD

Chapter 1: The Dream

Lyra's heart raced as she woke up. Drops of sweat ran down his forehead, he was cold despite the sweat in his small house. Strong and difficult dreams come as a number.

He ran hard through the bright forest. The ground beneath their feet was empty and bad; the dark roots had spread again, and they were starving. Every muscle in his body screamed and screamed, but he couldn't stop. In the night, a terrible howl was heard behind him, and the guest fell to the ground. Neither cry wolf nor good. A deep, deep hunger scared him.

Lyra sat down and pressed a small piece of paper into her chest. The glow of electric light from the electric lamp streaming through his window casts long shadows across the room. He took a deep breath and shivered, hoping the dream would end. Not for the first time. These random dreams have been happening at night for the past few weeks; going to the moon, the forest, howl, and howl.

He looked at the clock - 3:14. Another amazing night's sleep. He was consumed by fatigue, but sleeping seemed difficult. He slowly got up and walked into the small kitchen. The smell of yesterday's coffee greeted him and reminded him of it for the rest of the day.

Lyra worked as a barista at the Daily Grind, an upscale coffee shop on the corner of town. Despite the long hours and demanding clients, he loved his job. The coffee is rich, aromatic, sweet, and familiar. Plus, they were already part of a complex community, so they had a connection to him that he didn't see anywhere else.

While working on a new coffee machine, he was intrigued by the idea of ​​a stainless-steel filter. Her big brown eyes, once full of life, were now dull from lack of sleep. Her cake looks like a bird's nest and mascara adorns her cheeks. he growled, a trace of self-pity bubbling up inside him.

Suddenly, a ring of waves formed above him, tilting the room at a terrifying angle. He stood on the counter and stared at her until the emotion faded. Although he was afraid of the end of the holiday, he came to his senses after a while.

"It's just insomnia," he said softly, forcing a smile. But when the fear persists, I feel different. It's not just tiredness. He heard it. . . Differently. She put the thought aside, drank her coffee, and went about her day.

Lyra's breath caught in her throat. He is not human. His eyes were very intelligent, a strange amber color in the moonlight. He was dark-shaven and had long, ugly arms that were now visible. There was a small rumble in his chest and the visitor fell to the ground.

Above all, he was seized by fear. He was certain that this creature was the source of his dreams. But why? What is here?

Breathing, biting, hungry. Adrenaline coursed through Lyra's veins and pushed her forward. The animal's teeth whistled where its head lay, dodging the attack, the wind whipping its ears.

The source accepted the first request, which was unclear. He didn't make a plan, he just acted. His body was bent and bony. Close to his senses, his nostrils filled with the scent of damp earth and pine. His fingers extended and dug into sharp claws aimed at the animal. A scream came from his throat. The sound was so strange that it scared him more than anything else.

The creature stopped, stunned by its transformation. Lyra had a chance at this point. The new power surprised him, he held his breath and the creature collapsed to the ground with an effort. They suffered from wind waves and hunger. Pain shot through his arm as the creature shook his body, but his will to live remained strong.

Suddenly, pain shot through his back. A loud cry came from the animal's lips when it saw its hunger. A dark, gloomy feeling drifted along the beach. On a final run, he sent the creature flying backwards.

A wave of fatigue washed over him. Lyra fell to the ground, blood splattering the cold grass beneath her. As the world changes, confusion turns into a kaleidoscope of colors. As he wandered in his mind, a thought occurred to him: Who am I?