Moonblood: The curse of Arodan

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

Chapter Twenty-nine: 29

The moon had not faded since they left the Crimson Path.

It hung high and red over Arodan's skies, an omen for those who understood the old ways—and a warning for those who didn't.

Far from the ruins, in the heart of the Iron Citadel, Queen Valdara stood alone on the eastern balcony of her tower. Her silver crown shimmered in the moonlight, but her eyes were fixed on the distance, cold and calculating.

A raven landed on the railing beside her. It was no ordinary bird—its eyes glowed with blue fire, and it bowed its head, whispering in a voice that only she could hear.

"They found the altar," the raven croaked. "The boy has the book."

Queen Valdara smiled slowly. "Then the curse is waking… just as the stars foretold."

She turned back toward her chamber, where a large mirror stood, framed in dark obsidian. The reflection did not show her, but a great shadow beyond the world—a place of flickering lights and moving shapes. Her fingers brushed the surface.

"I have waited long enough," she whispered. "Let the blood awaken. Let the chains break."

At the edge of the forest, Draven, Elira, and Callen had made camp beneath the twisted arms of an old willow tree. The flames of their fire flickered low as Draven flipped through the pages of the strange book they had found. Each page told a part of a forgotten history—of people with silver eyes and blood that sang to the moon.

The Moonblood were not born—they were created.

Built in secret by the sorcerers of Arodan's first age. Bred as protectors. Turned into weapons.

But one of them broke free. The first. The cursed. The one they called "the Hollow Flame."

His story was left unfinished, the pages torn, burned at the edges.

Draven stared at the space where his story should have continued.

And a question burned inside him like fire:

Why does this feel like my story too?

Elira stirred beside him. "You haven't slept in two nights."

"I can't," Draven said. "Every time I close my eyes, I see things. Faces I don't know. Places I've never been."

Callen sat sharpening his blade, the sound scraping against stone. "That's the price of being Moonblood. The curse doesn't just touch your body—it digs into your memories. All of them."

Draven turned to him. "What do you mean?"

Callen paused. "You think you're the first Moonblood left? No. You're just the first to survive this long."

A silence fell between them. The fire cracked.

And then Elira gasped.

A figure stood just beyond the trees.

Dressed in black robes, with a hood pulled low, and hands clasped in front.

Draven stood slowly. "Who are you?"

The figure lifted its head.

It was a woman—her skin pale as snow, her eyes silver like moonlight, glowing softly in the dark.

"I am one of the last Oracles of the Hollow Flame," she said. "And I have come to show you the truth… before the queen does."

The air chilled.

Far above, the red moon pulsed.

And the curse continued to unravel.