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Blood Moon
Last Updated : 2026-08-12
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Layla Hunt is an anomaly -- a human without an ounce of magic in a school for magical creatures. Her adoptive family are renowned, though, so her privilege outweighs her status... usually. Dealing with a crush on her best friend's cousin and an aggravating upperclassman who has no respect for her would be enough drama, but when students start disappearing, she has to confront her privilege head-on. While trying to get to the bottom of what the faculty are trying to cover up, she learns the price of being anomaly the hard way.
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Blood Moon Chapter 17
Night fell, and the sky turned a bruised, unnatural shade of violet. The moon was massive on the horizon, its bottom edge already stained a deep, ominous shade of rust. The Blood Moon was here. The campus was entirely dead. Curfew had been enforced two hours early, and the spectral sentinels were gliding through the courtyards like silent, white smoke. Back home, I couldn't sleep. The smell of crushed rosemary and metallic iron from my father's office kept returning to me, sticking to the back of my teeth like an unwashed alchemical stain. The right alchemical compounds. Added to its rider. I stood up, grabbing the sleek elder-ash broom my father had given me, and slipped out of my room. I didn't have a plan, but a cold, persistent dread was telling me that the pieces of this puzzle weren't scattered across the island — they were right under my feet. I snuck into my father's study beneath the house,
Last Updated : 2026-08-12Blood Moon Chapter 16
The morning before the Blood Moon, the academy smelled like an over-committed candle shop.Everywhere you went, students were burning protective sage, enchanting obsidian charms, or practicing celestial invocations that smelled aggressively of sulfur and burnt hair. In homeroom, our teacher didn't even bother taking attendance. Instead, she passed around a stack of parchment and told us to begin finalizing our "Blood Moon Intentions"—the specific rituals or spell-weavings we intended to align with the lunar apex."Remember, class," she said, her voice tight with the kind of forced cheerfulness usually reserved for flight attendants during extreme turbulence. "The blood moon multiplies ambient arcana tenfold. Think about what you want to manifest."I stared at my blank parchment. As a human with the magical capacity of a damp cardboard box, my options for manifestation were somewhat limited. I briefly considered writing down 'I intend to not get murdered in a corridor,' or perhaps 'I m
Last Updated : 2026-08-11Blood Moon Chapter 15
If there was an official hierarchy of panic at the academy, it went something like this: werewolves were expected to be anxious by default, shifters were treated like a public nuisance when they got loud, but the moment the Fey aristocrats started sweating, you knew the ship was actively sinking.Two days before the Blood Moon, Jordan Alexandria disappeared.Jordan wasn't a shifter. He was an elf, a high-tier spell-weaver, and Logan's best friend. They played on the same mid-level elemental skirmish team and shared an apartment-style dorm in the gilded western wing of the residential quarters. He hadn't returned from the meditation gardens on Wednesday evening, and Logan had personally spent the entire night and following morning searching for him.Suddenly, the narrative that the disappearances were just "rebellious shifters slipping off to join mainland packs" completely evaporated. The campus went from being on alert, which it had been since Kayrah's di
Last Updated : 2026-08-09Blood Moon Chapter 14
By the time the sun came up, I had successfully convinced myself that Clair Westfield was a clinical lunatic who shouldn't be trusted with an island map, let alone local history.Linking my existence to a sixteen-year-old maritime disaster just because the math looked clean was peak teen-drama logic. People love a tragedy, and they love a conspiracy even more. My parents were eccentric, sure. My mom was a literal lich who treated affection like a quarterly performance review, and my dad spent ninety percent of his waking hours trying to turn base metals into household cleaning products. But a pair of baby-snatching, ward-sabotaging criminal masterminds? That was ridiculous.I consciously decided to put the entire conversation in a small, lead-lined box in the back of my brain and bury it under a mountain of denial. It was surprisingly therapeutic."You're staring at your toast like it insulted our family name," my father said, stepping into the kitchen wit
Last Updated : 2026-08-08
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