On the 19th of January, the sky bled red. The moon hung heavy over the earth, vast and terrible — an omen feared by elders and whispered about in ancient prophecies.
In a small hospital in Maplefield, a child was born under that cursed moon. The nurse froze when the infant opened his eyes — they shimmered crimson for a heartbeat, then faded into brown. The child's cry echoed through the ward, sharp and haunting.
His name was Ernest James, son of an ordinary family. None knew that the blood moon had marked him — a sleeping legacy sealed deep within his soul.