The night was too quiet. Not the comforting quiet of a sleepy town, but the kind that made your skin itch, like the silence before a storm. Above the forest canopy, the moon hung heavy and swollen, its color deepening from silver to an ominous crimson. The villagers of Veyren had called it the Blood Moon—a harbinger of change, of danger, of awakenings better left undisturbed.
Aurelia stood at the edge of the stone balcony, her fingers gripping the railing hard enough to whiten her knuckles. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic, sharp, like iron in water.
Behind her, Kael's voice broke the silence."You've been out here for hours."
She didn't turn to face him. "I can't shake the feeling… it's coming for us."
Kael stepped closer, his boots whispering against the cold floor. "You think it's connected to the portal again?"
Aurelia's lips pressed into a thin line. The last time the portal had pulsed with life, they had lost people. Good people. The thought made her chest ache. "I think this is worse," she finally said. "The Blood Moon isn't just a sign. It's a summons."
Kael didn't ask what she meant. He knew her enough to trust her instincts, even when they were shrouded in half-formed visions and fragments of prophecy. "Then we prepare. Whatever it is, we won't face it unarmed."
The moment broke when a distant howl rose from the forest. It wasn't the cry of a wolf—too guttural, too thick with malice. Aurelia's head snapped toward the sound, her hand already reaching for the blade at her hip. Kael was faster, drawing his sword in one smooth motion.
The sound came again, closer this time, and with it came the rustling of trees—not from wind, but from something large moving through them.
By the time they reached the gates, the night had descended into chaos. The sentries were already shouting orders, their torches casting frantic shadows across the walls. From the darkness emerged creatures unlike anything Aurelia had seen before—twisted shapes that looked as though they had once been human but had been reshaped by something cruel. Their limbs were elongated, their eyes burning faintly red, their mouths full of jagged teeth.
"Bloodspawn," Kael muttered under his breath. "They only appear during the Red Cycle."
"How long until the cycle ends?" Aurelia demanded, slashing at the first creature that lunged at her.
"Three nights."
Her stomach sank. Three nights of this?
The battle was brutal. The Bloodspawn moved with unnatural speed, darting between shadows and lunging for the weakest points in the defenses. Aurelia fought back-to-back with Kael, their movements almost instinctively synchronized. Every time her blade struck, another creature fell, but for every one that died, two more seemed to crawl out of the darkness.
"Gate's not going to hold!" one of the guards shouted.
"We're not meant to hold them here," Kael replied, blocking a strike meant for Aurelia. "We need to drive them back to the forest. They won't cross the river—at least not tonight."
With a sharp whistle, Kael signaled the archers. Flaming arrows arced into the air, landing in the dry undergrowth at the forest's edge. The fire caught quickly, forcing the Bloodspawn to retreat from the sudden blaze.
When the last of them vanished into the tree line, the gates slammed shut. The villagers were left standing among the bodies of the fallen, their faces pale and shaken.
Later, in the war room, Aurelia and Kael stood over the map of the region. The flickering candlelight made the rivers and forests look like veins spreading over an old piece of parchment.
"They were too organized," Aurelia said, tracing the path the creatures had taken. "Bloodspawn don't attack in formation. This was coordinated."
Kael leaned over the map, his jaw tight. "Which means someone's controlling them. Someone who knew exactly where to strike."
Aurelia's eyes narrowed. "The Court."
He didn't deny it. The High Court had been silent for months, but silence from them was never a good thing. The whispers that reached Veyren spoke of experiments, of bargains struck with things that shouldn't exist in this world.
Before Kael could respond, the door creaked open and Liora entered, her face pale, her hands trembling. She was the youngest of the village healers, barely nineteen, and not prone to panic—until now.
"They've taken Mira," she whispered.
Aurelia felt her blood run cold. Mira was more than a friend—she was the one who had first found Aurelia when she crossed into this world. The one who had given her a place to belong.
"Who?" Kael asked sharply.
"The Bloodspawn… but there was a man with them. Cloaked. His eyes…" She shivered. "They glowed like the moon."
The hours that followed were a blur of planning. They couldn't afford to wait. Every moment Mira was in the hands of their enemy was another moment closer to losing her forever.
"We'll have to cross into the Deadwood," Kael said grimly, pointing at the darkened forest on the map. "If the Bloodspawn took her there, she's already close to the heart of the corruption."
"The Deadwood isn't just dangerous," Aurelia replied. "It changes you. It warps everything that enters. Even the air isn't safe to breathe for long."
"Then we don't breathe it for long," Kael countered. "We get in, get her, and get out."
Aurelia hesitated. The Deadwood wasn't just a forest—it was a graveyard of worlds, a place where magic went to rot. But she couldn't abandon Mira. Not now. Not ever.
"I'll go," she said finally. "But we're not going alone. We'll need someone who knows the paths."
Kael frowned. "You mean…"
"Yes." Aurelia's voice was steady, but her heart was pounding. "We need the Tracker."
The next morning, under the shadow of the still-bleeding moon, they set out. The Tracker was a legend in Veyren, a man—or perhaps something less than a man—who could navigate any terrain, no matter how cursed or treacherous. He was said to be able to follow the scent of a single drop of blood for miles, to hear the heartbeat of prey from across a valley.
Finding him meant venturing into the Forgotten Vale, a place even the bravest hunters avoided. But Aurelia and Kael pressed on, their boots crunching over frost-coated grass as the wind whispered through the bare branches.
Hours later, they found him—or perhaps he found them. He stepped out from the mist without a sound, tall and lean, his cloak stitched from mismatched furs, his face hidden behind a mask carved from bone.
"You seek something lost," the Tracker said, his voice low and rough, like gravel sliding over stone.
"We seek someone," Aurelia replied. "Taken by Bloodspawn into the Deadwood."
The mask tilted, as though considering. "The Deadwood takes what it wishes. Few who enter return."
"That's why we need you," Kael said. "You can find her. Can't you?"
A long pause. Then the Tracker nodded once. "I can find her. But the Blood Moon demands a price."
Aurelia stiffened. "What kind of price?"
He reached up, tapping the bone mask with one gloved finger. "The forest will not let us pass without an offering. Blood for blood. Memory for memory. You must be willing to lose something you cannot replace."
Her throat tightened. She thought of Mira, of the way she laughed, of the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the stars. "If it gets her back," Aurelia said, "I'll pay it."
The Tracker's masked face turned toward the forest. "Then follow me."
As they stepped into the shadows of the Deadwood, the air grew heavier, colder. The trees seemed to lean inward, their gnarled branches clawing at the pale light. Somewhere far ahead, a scream tore through the stillness. Aurelia's heart clenched.
Mira was still alive.
For now.