🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan
Chapter Twenty-Six: 26
The night was quiet, but not peaceful.
The air felt heavy, as if the world was holding its breath.
Draven stood on the edge of a cliff, staring out at the dark sea. Waves crashed below, cold and wild. Above him, the moon had turned red again—deep crimson, like blood spilled on snow. The color made the clouds look like smoke.
He could feel the sword of the Moonblood in his hand growing warmer. The glowing runes along the blade were no longer still. They were alive—moving, shifting, speaking. Every pulse of light felt like a heartbeat.
Behind him, Elira was kneeling beside a fallen scout. Her hands were glowing with soft white light. The wound on the scout's shoulder was already closing. Elira had changed. Her magic, once unsure and small, was now strong. She did not hide it anymore.
"Elira," Draven said, still watching the sea. "It's waking."
She stood slowly and looked at the black stone hill rising nearby. Carved deep into its surface was the Sigil of Flame, the symbol of the first Moonblood king. The symbol had been cold and dead for centuries.
Now… it was burning.
A bright red glow lit up the hill from within the carving. The rocks shimmered like fire. Even the wind changed, turning hot and fast, circling the hill in a spiral.
Draven stepped closer. "It's calling."
Suddenly, the light twisted—and out of the sigil stepped a tall figure in a long grey cloak. Their face was hidden by a hood. A strange glowing mark burned on their chest, shaped like an ancient eye.
Then, a voice spoke—not with lips, but inside their minds.
"You have awakened what should have stayed buried. The blood of Moon is dangerous."
Draven lifted the sword. "But the curse is already here. We don't have a choice."
The figure raised its hand slowly. "Then the Trial begins."
The stone hill split with a sound like thunder. A stairway of fire opened, leading into the dark heart of the earth.
At that moment, Callen came running up the slope. His clothes were torn, his arm bleeding, but his eyes were sharp.
"The Queen knows," he said quickly. "She sent the Iron Guard. They're not far behind."
Elira stepped beside Draven. "If we go down there… we may never return."
Draven looked at the open stairway—the light from below flickering like a heartbeat.
He thought of his curse. His blood. His name.
He nodded. "Then let's make it worth it."
Together, the three of them—Draven, Elira, and Callen—walked down into the fire.
As they disappeared, the sigil behind them sealed shut with a flash of red light.
Far away, in her dark tower, the Queen stood at her window.
She looked up at the red moon and whispered just one word:
"Begin."