Blood of the moon Queen

They Let Her Out

The basement beneath the orphanage hadn’t changed in a hundred years, but the world above it had.

Flickering fluorescent lights lined the concrete ceiling, humming like flies. A half dozen screens buzzed quietly, displaying digital surveillance footage. Rows of filing cabinets were shoved into dark corners, untouched for decades. At the far end, a single long steel table stood beneath an old CCTV camera that hadn’t worked since 2008.

Seven people sat around it faces lit by blue computer light and lit candles alike. Old habits never died.

“She’s gone,” said Farah, snapping shut her iPad with shaking hands. “The child. She’s been adopted.”

“Impossible,” snapped Idris, eyes narrowing. “No one moves her without approval.”

“The records were deleted,” Farah continued. “Not just deleted. Scrubbed. As if the system never held her name.”

Zev, the tech lead, spun his laptop toward the others. “This is her digital file. Or what’s left of it.”

A black screen blinked:

404 — FILE NOT FOUND

“And the backups?”

“Wiped. Three servers, offgrid, airgapped. This wasn’t accidental.”

A silence fell across the table.

“She’s not supposed to be able to do this until at least thirteen,” said Helena, arms crossed. She was tall, powerful, and the only one wearing combat boots under her ceremonial robe.

“She’s eight,” muttered Idris. “And already issuing mental commands.”

“What about Esther?” someone asked. “She was the closest to her.”

“Unusable,” said Farah. “We tried to speak to her this morning. She’s, she’s not all there. Talks in riddles. Wrote on the walls in her own blood. Kept repeating a name no one recognizes.”

“Whose name?”

“‘Odytise.’”

That made everyone freeze.

“She knows who she is,” said Amaka, finally breaking her silence. Her long braids glinted with streaks of gray, her voice calm and terrifying. “That’s dangerous. It means she’s remembering early.”

Zev leaned back. “You think she’s one of those? Like the 1922 case?”

“No,” Idris said. “Worse. The child in 1922 didn’t burn anyone alive until she was fifteen.”

“And this one” Farah looked around the room, pale “already erased a grown woman’s mind.”

At the head of the table, Elder Mael stood. He wasn’t dressed in robes. He wore a simple black suit, his white beard trimmed. Only the obsidian ring on his finger gave him away.

“This cycle was supposed to be silent,” he said. “We fed her forgetfulness. Gave her a neutral name. We erased the dreams. But somehow, she’s still waking.”

“Do we know who took her?”

“Not yet,” Zev said. “Esther’s notes are gone. Every digital and handwritten copy destroyed.”

“Then we have nothing,” Idris growled.

“No,” said Amaka. “We have a window.”

Everyone turned to her.

“She’s still young. Still confused. Her powers haven’t stabilized.”

“She’s unbound,” Mael reminded. “If she learns how to use her voice with intention”

“She won’t,” Idris said. “Because we’ll find her.”

“And then what?” Zev asked quietly. “Chain her up until her twenty first birthday? Like the last one?”

“That was protocol,” said Helena coldly. “It worked.”

“It almost worked,” Amaka corrected.

Mael raised a hand.

“Enough.”

He walked to the wall and pressed a hidden switch. A sliding panel opened, revealing an encrypted chamber: a weathered scroll, a vial of ash, and a sleek modern tablet all humming with power.

“We send word to the old ones,” he said. “The Witches’ Quarter still owe us a favor.”

“Not after what happened in Russia,” Farah murmured.

“They’ll come,” he said. “They always do. When it concerns her.”

“And what if they don’t?” Zev asked.

“Then we use the fail-safe,” Mael said. “She lives. She gives birth. She dies. The cycle resets.”

“And if she breaks the cycle?” Amaka asked. “What if this time, she lives?”

Mael didn’t answer.

He turned to the raven perched on the overhead beam. Its feathers shimmered with subtle sigils.

“Send the message.”

The raven let out a shriek and vanished into the air, leaving behind the faint scent of ash and roses.

They all stood.

No one said the word out loud.

But they all thought it.

She was never supposed to leave.