The Last of the True Luna

Chapter 1

“What are you doing, Nana? Are we having visitors this evening?” I asked, watching my grandmother bustle around the living room, her arms full of violet-colored flowers that shimmered oddly in the dim light. They looked like something from another world—almost too vibrant, too alive. The petals glowed faintly, a kind of purplish haze clinging to them like mist.

A month ago, everything around the house was different. Back then, the small perimeter of our farmhouse was crowded with thick bushes of wolfsbane, its deep purple flowers swaying ominously with the wind. Ever since I could remember, wolfsbane had been everywhere—lining the fence, encircling the garden, even tucked into jars by the windowsills. When I asked her once why she grew so much of it, she simply gave me a distracted smile and said, “They fascinate me. Such a mysterious flower, don’t you think?” She never elaborated.

But just last month, everything changed. She began uprooting the wolfsbane, one stem at a time, carefully and deliberately, almost like she was undoing a spell. Today, only a single row remained—lined neatly right outside the front door. It looked less like decoration now, and more like a barrier. Or a warning.

“I’m preparing for tomorrow,” Nana replied, adjusting a bouquet in a silver vase that hadn’t been used in years. “Don’t you like these flowers?”

“They’re... unique,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “What are they called? And isn’t tomorrow my birthday?”

She paused, just for a moment. A flicker of something unreadable passed over her face. Then she turned to me with a solemn smile and walked over to the couch where I sat. She moved slowly, deliberately, like she was dragging the weight of memories behind her.

“Look at you,” she murmured, reaching out to caress my cheek. Her hands were cool, rough with years of work in the soil. “You’ve grown up so beautiful. Eighteen tomorrow.”

“Of course, Nana,” I said, smiling. “I look like you.”

“Oh, you sweet child.” Her eyes welled with tears she didn’t let fall. She looked down at the necklace around my neck—a plain silver chain with a small, dull pendant shaped like a crescent moon. “You can take that off tomorrow. You’ve worn it long enough.”

She stood suddenly and disappeared into her room. I heard drawers opening, the sound of a small key turning in a lock. When she returned, she was holding a wooden box, aged and carved with unfamiliar symbols along its edges. It was lined with gold plating that caught the light like fire.

“It’s time,” she whispered, handing it to me. “This should’ve been your mother’s gift to give. But here we are.”

“I miss Mom and Dad,” I said softly, running my fingers over the intricate patterns of the box.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “She would be so proud of you.”

When I opened the box, the necklace inside took my breath away. It was stunning—ornate and ancient-looking, with a ruby-red gemstone in the center that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. It was heavier than it looked.

“This is beautiful, Nana. I bet Mom looked like royalty wearing this. I wish I could have seen her.”

“You will look just as beautiful. Maybe even more.” Her voice was distant now, as though speaking through layers of time. “Now go on. I’ve drawn your bath. Soak well tonight. Cleanse your body. I used fresh milk again.”

She ushered me toward the bathroom with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The bathroom was filled with the soft scent of warm milk and lavender. Nana always made sure I bathed in milk every night—it was one of her many odd rituals. Sometimes I wondered how she managed to get it so fresh every day, but I never questioned her.

“Yes, yes,” I laughed. “I’ll be careful.”

“Make sure not to scratch your skin,” she said behind me, her voice almost... strained.

-------------

‘Happy Birthday.’

“Thank you.” My voice was hoarse as I whispered into the dark.

I opened my eyes, gasping. The dream again—those same men. Tall, faceless silhouettes cloaked in shadows, standing in a circle, whispering things I couldn’t understand. They always appeared during my celebrations—birthdays, school awards, even minor accomplishments. They never did anything, just watched. And yet, every time, I woke up feeling like my energy had been drained out of me—my throat parched, my limbs heavy, my skin too tight.

The clock beside my bed chimed midnight.

Twelve AM. My eighteenth birthday. And also... my parents' death anniversary.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The silence in the house felt thicker than usual, almost like it was holding its breath. I got up to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen when I caught sight of my reflection in the hallway mirror.

My breath caught.

I was wearing a white dress I didn’t remember putting on. It was old-fashioned, made of thin lace and silk. My hair, which I had left tied in a messy bun, now hung in perfect waves over my shoulders. My lips were slightly stained red. My eyes looked... not like mine.

‘Psshhh.’

A soft sound came from outside—like something slithering across wet leaves.

I frowned and approached the window. Outside, under the pale light of the full moon, I saw Nana. She was in her nightgown, kneeling at the front door, pulling out the last row of wolfsbane with her bare hands.

“Nana? What are you doing out there?” I called, but she didn’t answer.

I threw on my jacket and rushed out into the cold. The wind was biting, carrying with it the smell of moss and something metallic. Dew clung to the grass like sweat.

“Nana! Where are you going?” I asked, following her as she moved toward the backyard.

She didn’t turn around. Her pace quickened.

“Nana, stop! Let’s go back inside. You’ll catch a cold!”

But she didn’t stop. She kept walking toward the edge of the forest, her steps unnaturally swift, almost like she wasn’t entirely touching the ground.

My chest tightened with unease.

Ever since those strange men visited last month—strangers I never met, who spoke to Nana in hushed, anxious tones—she’d been acting differently. Warning me to be careful, to “survive no matter what.” I had laughed it off then. I wasn’t laughing now.

“Nana!” I shouted. The wind howled, drowning my voice.

She stepped past the tree line.

I hesitated at the edge of the woods. The forest loomed ahead like a black maw, trees towering like sentinels. The moon above was massive and red, casting everything in a crimson glow. It felt like the world was bleeding.

I ran after her, heart pounding. My boots sank into the soft ground. Somewhere deep ahead, twigs cracked. I pushed forward, shouting her name again and again.

Then I stopped. The hair on my arms stood up.

Something was wrong. The air felt thick—like syrup. The trees were too still. I heard more branches snapping, this time closer. I turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint the sound, but everything looked the same—shadow and fog.

Suddenly, a distant howl echoed through the trees.

Low. Long. Mourning.

I froze.

It was followed by another howl. Closer. More urgent. It didn’t sound like a dog—it sounded bigger. Older. More... human.

My breath caught in my throat.

The leaves rustled again, and I turned to run—but stumbled over a root and crashed to the ground. Mud splattered my jacket. My ankle twisted sharply.

From behind me, I heard it. Breathing.

Slow, deliberate, like something savoring the moment.

I turned my head and saw it.

A shape—tall, covered in shadow. Its eyes glowed faintly gold-blue, and its outline shimmered like it didn’t belong in this world. Its teeth were bared, long and glistening. It stepped toward me on two legs, then dropped to all fours, snarling low.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.

Then, out of nowhere—it jerked backward, yelping. Something had struck it. A flash of light? A scent? I didn’t know. It staggered, growled, and vanished into the darkness like smoke.

I gasped, crawling backward until my hands hit a tree.

Then—

Blackness.