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Chapter Three: Whispers in the Moonlight
Sleep offered Elsa little comfort. The warmth of the hearth couldn't fully chase away the chill that had settled deep within her bones. Every creak of the wooden cabin, every rustle of leaves outside the window, sounded like approaching footsteps—like the flutter of dark wings just beyond the threshold.
Beside her, Aurora stirred softly, her small hand instinctively reaching for Elsa's. That innocent touch was both a balm and a reminder of everything at stake. What would become of her child if the past finally caught up to them?
Lumi's voice echoed like a whisper from a dream. "There's a power in you—something ancient. Something… older than any of us. It's in your blood, and it's in your daughter's." But what could it mean? Elsa had never known power—only fear. Only escape.
She rose slowly from bed, tucking the blankets more securely around Aurora's tiny form. For a moment, Elsa just watched her—so peaceful, so unaware of the chaos surrounding her birth. A dhampir, born of vampire and human blood. Hunted by one side, feared by the other. And now… whispered about by witches.
Driven by the weight in her chest, Elsa slipped outside. The air was sharp and cold, carrying the scent of damp moss and old secrets. Eldergrove was silent. Too silent. The silver light of the moon clung to the rooftops like frost, and the trees seemed to lean in, listening.
The village square had changed under the moon's gaze. The great oak tree at its center looked older somehow, more alive. Its bark shimmered faintly, pulsing like breath. And beneath it, hidden by the gnarled roots, a flicker of light danced.
Elsa crept closer.
She saw them—witches. A circle of women standing barefoot on the dew-drenched grass, surrounding moonstones that glowed with soft, rhythmic pulses. The stones' light mingled with the silvery threads of magic that wove through the air like smoke.
Lumi stood among them, her silver-blonde hair catching the moonlight. She was chanting, her voice blending with the others in a haunting melody that didn't belong to any human tongue. The ground itself seemed to hum.
Elsa froze. The power radiating from them was tangible. Not destructive, but ancient. Elemental. It wasn't dark magic—it was old magic.
She took a step back, intending to slip away unnoticed—but then the eldest witch opened her eyes.
They were pale white, like carved crystal, and they locked onto Elsa immediately.
The chanting stopped.
All heads turned.
Elsa's breath caught in her throat.
"You are here," said the elder witch, her voice calm but heavy with meaning. "The moonlight has called for you."
Elsa tried to speak, but her voice faltered. "I… I didn't mean to intrude."
Lumi stepped forward, eyes gentle. "You didn't. I was about to come find you."
"Why?"
The elder witch gestured toward one of the stones. "Place your hands upon it."
Elsa hesitated. Everything inside her screamed caution. But curiosity stirred as well—tugging at something deeper, something hidden even from herself.
Fear crept into her voice, and the tremble didn't go unnoticed "What happens if I do?" she whispered.
"The truth begins to whisper," said the elder. "And perhaps… your blood will remember what your mind cannot."
Elsa shook her head slowly, stepping back. "No. Not yet."
The elder nodded. "When you are ready—when the questions inside you grow too loud to ignore—come. The stone will wait."
With that, the circle slowly dissolved. The witches faded into the mist, the magic settling into silence.
Elsa stood alone beneath the ancient oak, the pulse of the moonstone still calling to her like a heartbeat beneath the earth.
Elsa swallowed hard, then slowly backed away, the weight of their gazes pressing into her. She turned and walked away, back through the mist, back to the one place where she felt a sliver of peace.
She fled back to the cabin.
She knelt beside Aurora, brushing her hair from her forehead and clutching her tiny hand.
But her mind was racing.
A power in her blood. A calling from the moon. A circle of witches. And a name spoken in whispers—Queen Elara.
Nothing made sense.
But deep down, Elsa knew—this was only the beginning.
A soft, echoing voice drifted through the silence.
"Come, my dear... Mummy has been waiting for you..."
Elsa froze, her blood running cold. The voice was neither dream nor memory—it was something other. It beckoned her, pulling her from the safety of the cabin. Her feet moved as if under a spell, drawn down a misty path that twisted like a serpent through the trees.
Ahead, a pale light shimmered—soft and haunting, like the moonstone's glow.
There, within the glow, stood a woman.
Young. Ethereal. Her lips curved into a serene smile, and her eyes—Aurora's eyes—watched Elsa with quiet knowing.
Elsa's breath caught in her throat. Who are you?
Then the ground began to tremble.
Cracks splintered through the earth around her feet—long, jagged lines glowing faintly with a reddish light. The soil groaned, and the cracks widened with a violent quake, spreading like veins of fire across the dreamscape.
A deafening roar split the air as the earth beneath her feet caved in.
"No!" Elsa screamed, scrambling back—but it was too late.
The ground opened like a hungry maw, and she was pulled downward into the darkness. The woman with Aurora's eyes vanished. The light disappeared.
And then—
She woke up.
Gasping. Drenched in sweat. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her heart pounding so violently she thought it might burst.
What was that? Who was she? What is this feeling...?
Something ancient inside her had stirred—something was awake now.
Then came the sound that anchored her back to reality.
Aurora's soft cry.
Elsa turned to her daughter, who had begun to wail in her sleep. She quickly cradled her close, whispering gentle reassurances as her heart continued to race.
The dream had felt real—too real. The cracks, the voice, the fall… none of it was just imagination.
As dawn's first light crept through the cracks in the cabin walls, one chilling truth settled into Elsa's heart:
This is only the beginning.
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