**Chapter 15 – The Blood Moon Rises**
The night was wrong.
The sky didn't simply darken—it *folded*. A strange shimmer spread across the heavens, like silk stitched with red lightning. And in its center, swollen and scarlet, the **blood moon** rose like a wound.
It watched.
The entire palace felt it—stone trembled beneath footfall, flames sputtered out of rhythm. The guards fumbled with their swords. The animals wouldn't stop screaming.
In her tower, Amaris stood at the window, wrapped in black and silver. Her hands were steady, her breathing even. But her heart…
It thudded with something deeper than fear.
**Awakening.**
Tonight was the night the gods would come to collect.
Or be denied.
---
"You don't have to do this," the prince whispered beside her.
"Yes," she said. "I do."
"You've already broken the prophecy. You survived the betrayal. The poison. The mirror beast."
"And they'll keep coming," she said, eyes never leaving the horizon. "Until they either get my blood… or I give them something worse."
She turned, and he saw it in her.
The Offering was gone.
A **Queen** stood in her place.
He bowed his head. "Then let me fight with you."
Amaris held his gaze. "I'll let you fight beside me. But not for me. You don't own my death—and you won't own my survival."
The prince smiled—wounded and proud.
"I never wanted to own you," he said. "Only walk beside you."
---
The ritual circle had been prepared at the temple's edge—an ancient place carved from obsidian, surrounded by statues with hollow eyes. The inner council stood cloaked in red and black, chanting in tongues not heard in centuries.
The high priestess led them.
At the center of the stone ring, a platform waited.
Waiting for her.
As Amaris approached, the crowd gathered in silence. Not out of respect—but anticipation.
Everyone wanted to see what would happen when a prophecy refused to obey.
The priestess raised her hand.
"The blood moon is upon us," she called. "The Offering must be given."
Amaris stepped onto the platform, slow and deliberate.
"I am not yours to give."
The air split with a crack of thunder.
Clouds boiled.
The blood moon pulsed brighter.
The high priestess's voice rose over the wind.
"You were chosen! Born to fulfill the pact! Your death seals the kingdom's protection!"
"My *life* breaks your chains," Amaris spat. "I will not be your lamb."
The priestess's eyes flashed with dark fire.
"So be it."
She raised her staff—
And the sky opened.
---
The moon bled light—red and raw. A rift tore through the air above the circle, and **something** began to crawl through. Not flesh. Not shadow. Something older. Something made of rot and whisper.
A god.
The ritual had called it.
Amaris felt her breath catch.
This was the thing she had been born to face. The thing that drank blood from daughters and sons. The reason her name was cursed before her first breath.
The beast loomed above the platform, ten arms, six eyes, a mouth that stretched across its entire body.
The crowd screamed. Some ran.
Others fell to their knees.
The prince stood at the edge of the circle, blade drawn. But it was Amaris the creature watched.
It *wanted her.*
She stepped forward, barefoot on sacred stone.
The creature lowered its massive head, breathing in her scent.
"You are... not as they promised," it hissed.
"I never am."
She lifted the obsidian dagger.
"You want blood?" she said. "Then bleed with me."
The god lunged.
She dodged. Barely.
Its claw tore across the platform, shattering stone. Amaris rolled, came up swinging, and plunged her dagger into its leg.
The blade hissed.
The god screamed.
Smoke poured from the wound.
The priestess shouted incantations—trying to regain control.
But Amaris wasn't part of the spell anymore.
She *was the disruption.*
The god struck again, faster now. Its tentacles crashed into pillars, shattered the statues, sent bodies flying.
The prince rushed in, blade slicing across one of its arms. The thing shrieked and flung him away like a toy.
"Stay down!" Amaris cried.
But he crawled to his feet. "Not without you!"
The god lunged at Amaris once more. This time, she didn't dodge.
She leapt into the air and met it head-on.
She plunged the dagger into its throat.
Light exploded.
The sound was not a scream.
It was a howl—of *centuries unravelling*.
The god convulsed, its form breaking apart, dissolving into ash and silver light. The rift above began to shrink, as if the sky itself rejected the god's death.
Then silence.
The wind died.
The blood moon pulsed—once.
Then dimmed.
Amaris dropped to her knees, blood soaking her dress.
The priestess stumbled back, face pale with rage.
"You've killed us all," she hissed.
Amaris stood.
"No. I've freed us."
And with a flick of her wrist, she threw the dagger.
It landed square in the priestess's heart.
---
Later, the fires were put out.
The bodies collected.
The moon returned to its rightful white.
The temple collapsed.
No one mourned it.
Amaris sat in the prince's chambers, hair loose, fingers wrapped in clean bandages. The healer had told her she might never regain full use of her right arm.
She didn't care.
She still had her voice.
Her will.
Her crown.
"You defied a god," the prince said softly.
She turned to him.
"I was never an Offering. I was a warning."
He sat beside her.
"So what now?"
"Now?" she said, rising. "We rebuild the world they tried to burn."
And from the shadows behind the broken throne, a small voice whispered—
"Queen."
---
But Amaris didn't smile.
Because somewhere deep beneath the palace, beyond even the catacombs—
A second rift began to open.