The battlefield trembled under the roar of the blood moon. Shadows lunged from the cracked earth, a thousand clawed hands reaching for Leah. Each step she took was heavy, as though the darkness itself sought to swallow her whole.
Her blade sliced through the air, sparks of pale light colliding with tendrils of shadow. Every strike was met with another, faster, stronger. She could feel her strength waning, muscles screaming in protest, but she refused to yield.
Then, a sudden memory pierced her mind like a dagger of ice.
Years ago, whispered voices had told of a curse—a malice born from betrayal, greed, and an ancient pact. The first victim had been a child, taken under the crimson moon, her scream echoing through the centuries. The curse had grown stronger with every soul consumed, feeding on grief, rage, and despair. And now, it had found her.
The beast before her, massive and twisted, mirrored the pain of every lost soul. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, as if it had seen the world die a thousand times and hungered to do so again.
Leah steadied her breathing. The whispers clawed at her mind, but now, their voices formed a pattern—a rhythm, a key. She remembered the words from the visions: "Only the light that faces the past can sever the chain of sorrow."
She raised her blade high. Light surged from its edge, bright enough to carve through the gathering shadows. The beast roared, flinging a storm of darkness that sent the ground trembling beneath her feet.
Leah darted forward, weaving through the grasping hands of the damned. Each step was guided by the memories—the child's scream, the betrayal, the first spark of darkness that had spread like a plague. Her blade cut through shadow after shadow, the pale light burning the curse that had fed on centuries of suffering.
The whispers reached a crescendo, voices overlapping, almost human now. They spoke her name with longing, pleading: "End it… free us…"
The beast shrieked, wings unfurling, and lunged with a speed that made her heart skip. Leah met it head-on, the clash of light and darkness erupting in a blinding explosion. Pain seared through her, but she held firm. The visions of the past guided her strike, every movement precise, every blow a promise: I will not let you win.
As the blood moon dipped lower, the battlefield fell into a tense, trembling silence. The shadows recoiled, shrieking, then scattered like mist under the first rays of faint dawn. The beast lay defeated, its form dissolving into a swirl of mournful whispers, fading into nothingness.
Leah's chest heaved. Exhausted but unbroken, she whispered to the empty battlefield:
"Rest now… your suffering ends tonight."
And for the first time, the voices of the damned quieted, leaving only the echo of her own heartbeat under the fading light of the blood moon.