🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan
Chapter Thirty: 30
The fire hissed as a breeze swept through the trees, carrying the scent of ash and old magic. Draven stood frozen, staring at the woman cloaked in black. Her silver eyes didn't blink, and her voice seemed to echo from somewhere far away, like it was speaking through time itself.
Elira moved closer to Draven, her hand gently resting on his arm. "Do you trust her?"
Draven shook his head slowly. "I don't know. But I feel like... I've seen her before. Maybe in a dream. Or maybe in something deeper than memory."
The woman stepped into the firelight. Her cloak shimmered like smoke, and her silver hair spilled over her shoulders. "You have," she said calmly. "In dreams. In visions. In the whispers of your blood. My name is Vaela, and I am a shadow of the past. A servant of the old flame."
Callen rose, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Enough riddles. Speak clearly. Who are you really?"
Vaela bowed her head. "I once stood beside Kael, the Hollow Flame, the first of the Moonblood. I saw him rise against the kings of Arodan. I saw him fall."
Draven's heart pounded in his chest. "Kael... he's my ancestor?"
"Yes," Vaela replied. "He was the first to be cursed, the first to resist. And the first to leave behind a way to break it. You carry what remains of his spirit, his fire. And now, the curse is awakening."
She knelt and drew a wide circle in the dirt with her finger. Inside it, she marked a burning eye surrounded by swirling lines.
"This was his mark," she said. "The curse was born from fear. The kings of Arodan feared Kael's power, so they turned to the shadows. They made a pact with the Hollow Ones—dark spirits older than this world. In exchange for protection, they betrayed the Moonblood. They turned Kael's gift into a curse."
The symbol glowed faintly in the firelight. It pulsed, as if alive.
Draven knelt beside it. "This is inside me?"
"Yes," Vaela said. "But you are not yet lost to it. The curse is not just a punishment. It is a prison, holding back something older, something powerful. Your bloodline was meant to guard Arodan, not destroy it."
Elira spoke, her voice quiet. "Then why is the curse growing stronger?"
Vaela's eyes darkened. "Because Queen Valdara is trying to open the Black Gate—a door sealed by Kael himself, long ago. If she succeeds, all the cursed Moonblood will return. But not as people. As monsters."
Draven felt a cold chill run down his spine. He remembered the night of his first transformation. The pain. The voices. The hunger.
"How do we stop her?" he asked.
"You must go to the Temple of Echoes," Vaela said. "Hidden in the cliffs of Nar'Thaen. There lies the Ember Crown—Kael's last gift. It holds the power to end the curse. But only a true heir can claim it."
Callen frowned. "That place is lost. Swallowed by the earth centuries ago."
"Not anymore," Vaela said. "The land is shifting. Old magic is awakening. The temple will reveal itself soon. But the journey will be perilous."
Draven stood slowly, his eyes locked on the symbol glowing in the dirt. "Then we go at dawn. We find the Ember Crown."
That night, sleep did not come easily. Draven lay beneath the stars, staring up at the sky. The moon was high and full, casting a soft silver light over the forest. Every crackle of the fire, every rustle of the leaves made his thoughts race.
He thought of his mother's voice, the warmth of her hands, and the way she used to hum lullabies when the storms came. He missed her. He missed the quiet days in Arodan before the curse twisted his life.
Elira was sitting by the fire, mixing herbs into a small clay bowl. She glanced up and smiled gently. "Can't sleep?"
He shook his head.
"I keep thinking," he whispered, "what if I'm too late? What if the curse wins?"
Elira stirred the herbs and poured in a bit of water. "You're still here, Draven. That means the curse hasn't won. And as long as you fight, it never will."
She handed him the bowl. "Drink this. It'll calm your mind."
Draven took it with a grateful nod and sipped slowly. The drink was bitter but soothing. The warmth spread through him like soft fire.
A voice came from behind the trees.
"Do you think you're the only one who's afraid?"
It was Callen. He stepped forward, his cloak brushing the leaves. "We've all lost something to the curse. Families. Homes. Friends. But fear doesn't get to decide who we are. You do."
Draven nodded slowly, the words settling into his heart. He looked up at the moon again. The same moon that had once cursed him... now seemed to be watching.
"I'll break this," he said softly. "For everyone."
He lay down again, letting sleep take him. In his dreams, he saw flames rising high into the sky—and beyond them, a crown burning with light.
Tomorrow, they would journey to Nar'Thaen.
Tomorrow, the real battle would begin.