The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, and the moon hung high in the sky, its pale light casting a crimson glow over everything. The Bloodmoon.
Ryder’s heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the field, his eyes landing on her—Kyra. She stood a few feet away, her back to him. The moonlight illuminated her silhouette, making her seem ethereal. He called out to her, his voice gentle but urgent.
“Kyra.”
She slowly turned around, and Ryder’s breath caught in his throat. But this wasn’t the Kyra he knew. Her face was pale, drained of all color. Her once vibrant burgundy eyes were now cold and lifeless, a stark, dull grey. Blood dripped from the puncture marks on her neck, her skin now tinged with an unnatural pallor. It looked as though her very essence had been drained from her, l
