The bells of Veyrenholt had stopped ringing days ago. What had once been a proud city, where marble spires caught the light of the sun and markets thrummed with life, had become a hollowed carcass. The Red Moon's laughter had seeped into its cobblestones, twisting alleyways into spirals that led nowhere, folding familiar streets into infinite corridors. The air smelled of iron, ash, and incense burned in desperation by the faithful who still prayed to a silent heaven.
Adrian stood in the center of what used to be the Cathedral Plaza. The statues of saints had wept crimson tears, their marble faces eroded, and in their place, sigils of the Scarlet Choir had been etched. All around him, the people of the city screamed, their bodies convulsing as shadows spilled from their eyes and mouths. He could feel it—the corruption spreading faster now, no longer content with the weak.
And inside his chest, where Kael had once taken his heart, the emptiness glowed like a furnace. The crimson sigil of the Moon burned against his forehead, pulsing in rhythm with the Red Moon above.
Adrian clenched his sword tighter.
I am the vessel… but for how long can I remain myself?
Kael stood just behind him, his white hair tied back, his eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. He was a pillar against the chaos—tall, still, yet radiating danger. Even in this moment, Adrian could feel how others instinctively drew strength from his presence. Crysmal loomed above, wings unfurled, casting a shadow that stretched across half the square. Its scales shimmered like obsidian wet with blood, its eyes glistening with strange emotions.
"Control your tone," Crysmal whispered suddenly, voice echoing through the minds of everyone present. The dragon's maw did not move; the words were carved directly into their thoughts. "Cause I'm sensitive." Its eyes brimmed with tears. "I may cry."
A single, enormous tear fell from its eye, crashing onto the ground with the sound of stone splitting. The cobblestones cracked, and corruption wavered for a moment, as if Crysmal's grief had the power to push back the Red Moon's laughter.
Kael's expression did not change, though Adrian noticed the slight flex of his jaw. "Stay with me," he said, not to Adrian, but to Crysmal. "We need you steady."
Then, the sound came. A ringing that wasn't a bell but something deeper, older—the collapse of time itself.
The air bent. The plaza fractured. People froze mid-scream, their bodies suspended as though someone had paused the world. Adrian staggered back, clutching his head as visions forced themselves into his mind: his mother's laughter, his father's death, Elira's soft hand pulling him through a field of autumn leaves when they were children.
But then those same leaves blackened, rotted, and bled.
"Elira," Adrian whispered.
Across the square, he saw her. Her frail body was bound within a circle of decay, sigils glowing beneath her feet, leaves of perpetual autumn swirling around her like a cage. The Autumn Cult had taken her. Hooded figures knelt in worship, their voices chanting, "Harvest her time. Feed the Moon. Let autumn consume all."
And at the center, Morwen Asterfall stood tall. His hair fell in strands the color of dying leaves, his smile serene, his eyes hollow. His voice was a low hymn as he addressed Adrian:
"She has always carried too much, hasn't she? Too fragile to wield time. Too kind to protect herself. We will free her from that burden. And her sacrifice will deliver this city into eternal autumn."
"No!" Adrian's voice tore out of him, desperate, ragged.
Before he could move, before Kael could strike, the sky itself split.
The Red Moon's face distorted, no longer a simple celestial body but a grinning visage that stretched across the heavens. Its laughter was no longer in their heads—it thundered through the air, rattling bones and shattering windows.
Adrian collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as if the Moon had reached inside him. He could feel it clawing at him, whispering with a thousand voices:
Vessel. You are mine. Your body, your desire, your lust—it is ours. Let us in. Let us taste everything you are.
Agony seared through his veins, and he screamed. His sword clattered to the ground as his back arched. His skin blistered with glowing cracks. The Moon was torturing him, pulling him apart piece by piece, seeing if he would break.
"Adrian!" Kael's voice was sharp, urgent.
But then—another voice cut through the chaos. Smooth. Cold. Unmistakable.
"You're weak, Kael."
Kael froze. His father stood before him. The Devil.
His form was concealed beneath long black robes that hid the burning light of his body, for even glimpsing it could drive mortals to madness. His presence smelled of fire and forgotten incense, like a cathedral that had burned but never stopped smoldering. His smile was cruel but calm.
"I don't want to go to heaven," he said softly, his eyes never leaving Kael's. "None of my friends are there. But you, my son—you're wasting your eternity protecting a vessel. Why not embrace what you were born to be?"
His hand lifted, and the air itself buckled. Kael's knees trembled, though his face remained calm. Crysmal roared, wings unfurling, but even the dragon faltered under the Devil's shadow.
"Fight me," the Devil said. "Or die here, forgotten."
Adrian tried to rise, but the Moon's laughter kept him chained to the ground. He could see Elira's lips moving within the ritual circle, her eyes wide with fear. She was calling his name, but no sound escaped. Her body flickered—half here, half gone—as the ritual drained her life.
Morwen's hymn grew louder, the cultists chanting with him. The leaves turned to knives, whirling around her body. Time itself was collapsing inward, shattering into fragments that cut through reality.
Adrian's mind burned with visions: Elira's life extinguished, Kael bleeding in his father's shadow, Crysmal's tears flooding the city. He could see it all, the future and the past, the despair and the betrayal.
And still, the Moon laughed.
He forced himself to his feet, blood pouring from his nose, his eyes glowing crimson. His sword burned in his hand, trembling as if resisting him.
"Not yet," he hissed through his teeth. "I'm not yours yet."
But his voice cracked. His knees buckled. He was seconds from breaking.
Kael turned his head slightly, just enough for Adrian to see the faintest hint of determination in his white eyes. "Rise up," Kael said, his tone steady despite the Devil looming before him. "That's what you do, Adrian. You rise up."
And for a heartbeat, Adrian believed him.
The Devil's smile widened. "Then rise, son. Rise and prove you deserve to live." His hand swept forward, and Kael's chest burned as if fire had been poured into his veins.
Crysmal screamed, "STOP!" The dragon's cry cracked the air, sending cultists sprawling, but it wasn't enough. Elira's body flickered again, her time slipping away.
Adrian staggered forward, sword raised, crimson light exploding from his forehead sigil. But the laughter of the Moon drowned out everything.
The plaza shattered.
And the world went dark.