BLOOD MOON RISING

CHAPTER ONE BLOOD MOON A mirror that bleeds. A circle of witches. A voice calling my name. A fire in the middle. I wake with a start, my chest heaving as if I’ve just run miles. The dreams are back. Those same terrifying visions that gnaw at me night after night. Sweat clings to my skin, sticky and cold, and I peel myself from the sheets with a grimace. The clock on my nightstand reads 3:07 a.m. Three in the morning. Again. Sleep has become a stranger to me, slipping further away each night as the dreams grow sharper, darker, harder to ignore. I stumble into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and let the icy water crash against me. For a while, I just stand there, hoping the cold will numb the panic coiled tight in my chest. I don’t know how long I stay there, staring blankly at the tiled wall, until a knock echoes from the bathroom door. “Amber, are you okay in there?” Jack. His voice is muffled but steady. “I’m fine,” I call back, forcing a shaky laugh. “It’s not like I’m going to combust in here.” I shut off the water, wrap a towel around myself, and step back into my room. Jack is perched on my bed, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he peers at me with that quiet, worried expression he always wears these days. “Still getting those nightmares?” he asks softly. I nod, tugging the towel tighter. “They’ll go away soon.” He doesn’t look convinced. “What do you think they mean?” “If I knew, I’d tell you.” My frustration leaks into my tone, sharper than I intend. “It’s just, after everything that’s happened, I feel like I’m losing my mind.” Jack tilts his head, offering me a lopsided smile. “Aren’t we all?” He stands and, as he passes me, taps my shoulder gently. “Never forget I’m always going to be here, okay?” “I won’t,” I murmur. He flashes one of his famous smiles, the kind that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, before leaving my room. He’s been sleeping on the living room couch for two weeks straight, refusing to leave me alone since the night I escaped the bunker. Sometimes I think best friends like him don’t actually exist. But Jack? Jack proves me wrong every day. Mum, on the other hand, barely acknowledges me anymore. She speaks around me, never to me, as if the demon in my veins has made me untouchable. And maybe she’s right. Maybe I am. The demon has been quiet since the prom night, but I live with the constant, gnawing fear that it’ll wake up again, burn its way out of me, and this time…I won’t be able to stop it. I pull on an oversized shirt and sit cross-legged on the bed. Maddison’s old laptop hums weakly on the nightstand, and I drag it onto my lap, flipping open my notebook at the same time. Maybe if I keep digging, I’ll find something, anything, that explains what’s happening to me. But the more I read, the less I understand. Demon lore is…chaos. Fragments of myths, half-truths, and contradictions scattered across the internet. Types of demons, hierarchies, bargains, curses. None of it fits what’s inside me. Whatever I carry, it isn’t ordinary. It’s powerful. Too powerful. And there’s nothing about how to control it. A knock rattles my door again. I sigh, closing the laptop. “Come in.” Jack slips inside, a heavy book tucked under one arm. His eyes are bright, restless, like he hasn’t slept at all. “So, you know how I’ve been knee-deep in all this demon stuff?” he begins. “Yeah?” “Well, I figured we’re not going to find answers with just a Google search. So I tried something else.” He grins, proud of himself. “Sometimes it pays to be a geek.” I raise a brow. “Jack…” He sits at the edge of my bed, sliding his phone toward me. “I found this conspiracy site. It’s like a message board for people who believe in all things supernatural. Everyone’s anonymous, of course. But some of the threads? They’re…detailed. Too detailed to be faked.” I glance at the phone, scrolling through a dense web of posts and arguments, usernames hidden behind symbols and numbers. “Okay. And?” “And what if we’ve been looking at this from the wrong angle?” His voice lowers. “Instead of trying to get the demon part of you exorcised-” I cut him off. “Wait. That’s even possible?” “This guy thinks it might be,” Jack says, jabbing at one reply buried under his original post. “Look here. He says some demons can’t be destroyed. They’re too deeply rooted. But they can be bound.” “Bound?” “Yeah,” Jack nods quickly, flipping open his book with excitement. “Contained, restrained, merged with something else inside you so it doesn’t rip you apart. Like your wolf.” The words sink into me like stones in water. My chest tightens with a mix of fear and hope I don’t dare trust. Because if Jack is right, then maybe…just maybe…I’m not doomed after all. Jack clears his throat, his eyes flicking down to his phone again. “But-” Of course there’s a “but.” “There’s this other guy,” he continues, scrolling furiously. “He claims that if the demon part of you is successfully bound, it gets weakened. Like…starved, cut off from its source. And then-” He glances at me, hesitating for the briefest moment. “-then it can be severed during the rising of the Blood Moon.” I blink at him, the words rattling around in my head like loose marbles. “The what now?” Jack pushes his glasses up, looking both sheepish and excited, like a kid about to tell a ghost story. “The Blood Moon. It’s a rare lunar event. Happens only once every couple of decades when the moon passes closest to Earth while completely eclipsed. And according to about a hundred different myths it’s supposed to amplify supernatural forces to their peak.” My stomach drops. “Amplify. Jack, that doesn’t sound like it’ll weaken anything. It sounds like it’ll…make it worse.” He shakes his head, flipping open the book he brought. Pages crinkle, covered in his cramped handwriting and sticky notes sticking out like feathers. “Not exactly. See, the Blood Moon’s power is…two-sided. It boosts everything, yeah. But it also strips away disguises, illusions, things that shouldn’t exist in balance with the world. Some legends say it’s the only time when creatures like demons can actually be separated from a host without killing both.” I stare at him. “Without killing both. You say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better.” Jack meets my eyes, serious now. “Amber, you’ve survived things people shouldn’t walk away from. If anyone can endure this-if anyone has the strength to bind that thing inside them until the Blood Moon, it’s you.” The weight of his words presses against me. Strength. Me. I want to laugh, scream, run all at once. Because deep down, I don’t feel strong. I feel like a cracked mirror, one wrong touch away from shattering completely. But the way Jack looks at me…like I’m more than this thing, more than the monster in my veins…I almost believe him.