The Blood Moon was never supposed to be real.
At least, that's what I'd told myself every time the old stories came up — bedtime warnings whispered by frightened villagers about a crimson sky, cursed wolves, and the moon choosing its victims. But as I stood in the middle of the forest, lungs burning, feet torn from running barefoot over roots and rocks, I realized the stories hadn't been warnings.
They'd been promises.
My breath came out in ragged gasps, white puffs vanishing into the cold night air. The trees seemed alive tonight — their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers, roots shifting beneath me as if they wanted me to trip.
"Keep running," I whispered to myself, though my body begged me to stop.
I didn't know how long I'd been running. Only that I couldn't stop. If I stopped, it would find me.
The mark on my neck — no, not a mark. A wound. Fresh and burning — seared with every step I took. My fingers brushed against it, and a white‑hot jolt of pain shot through me.
It wasn't just pain. It was alive.
He's coming.
I didn't know where the thought came from. It didn't feel like mine, but it echoed in my head as surely as if someone had whispered it into my ear.
The wind howled, and the forest grew impossibly still.
That's when I felt it — not the cold, but heat. Like standing too close to a fire. The fine hairs on my arms stood on end.
I wasn't alone.
"Running?"
The voice was low, smooth, and utterly calm. It cut through the night like a blade, making my heart seize.
I spun toward the sound, my back pressing against a tree.
And I saw him.
Leaning casually against a trunk as if the forest belonged to him.
He was tall, too tall for a human, with shoulders that filled the dark silhouette of the trees. His hair was black as the night sky, his skin pale under the crimson moonlight, and his eyes — God, his eyes — glowed faintly silver, inhuman and cold.
"Stay away from me," I rasped, though my voice trembled.
His lips curved — not into a smile, but something more dangerous. "Why would I do that?"
"I'll scream."
"Do it."
The way he said it, lazy and amused, made my throat dry.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
He tilted his head, studying me like I was something curious. "Kael."
The name rolled off his tongue like it belonged to someone ancient. Someone I should've known to fear.
"And you…" His gaze swept over me, stopping on the wound at my neck. "You're mine."
My stomach twisted. "I don't belong to you."
His smirk didn't reach his eyes. "You do now."
Before I could move, before I could think, he was in front of me.
I hadn't seen him cross the space between us — one moment he was leaning against the tree, the next his hand was braced against the trunk beside my head, his body caging me in.
Every instinct screamed at me to fight. But my body didn't listen.
"Please," I whispered, hating the way my voice cracked.
Kael's face was unreadable. "You shouldn't have been out here tonight."
"I— I didn't know—"
"No one ever does."
The hand that wasn't trapping me lifted, claws grazing my jaw with terrifying gentleness. He leaned in until his breath was warm against my ear.
"Do you know what tonight is?"
My pulse hammered so loud I could barely think.
"The Blood Moon," he answered for me. "The night the moon chooses. And it chose you."
Before I could react, a searing pain exploded at the base of my neck. My knees buckled as if my body no longer belonged to me.
I tried to push him away, but my arms felt useless. My vision blurred, turning the forest into a haze of red and black.
"What— what are you—"
"Marking you."
I don't know if it was his voice or the pain that made me dizzy, but the world tilted beneath me.
"No—"
"Yes."
His voice dropped to a whisper, so close it felt like the words sank into my skin along with the burning mark.
"You are mine now."
Pain flared white‑hot, swallowing me whole.
And then, there was nothing.
Cliffhanger:Who is Kael? What is the Blood Moon's mark doing to her? And why does she already feel the bond inside her veins?