Blood and moonlight

The house was too quiet when Ava rose from her seat near the fire. The embers crackled softly, the only sound in the grand hall. Pale moonlight bled through the stained-glass windows, casting red and violet patterns across the cold stone floor.

She pulled her cloak over her shoulders, the fabric whispering as it slid across her skin. She needed air. A hunt. Something to sink her teeth into—literally. Her veins itched with hunger, and the stored blood in the cellar tasted like metal and regret.

“I’m going out,” she said, turning toward the library where her father always sat at this hour.

As expected, Lord Elaris was buried in a tome so ancient it looked like it might fall apart under his fingers. He didn’t glance up. “Where?”

“The forest. I need a proper hunt,” she said. “There’s a herd of deer near the east ridge. I won’t go far.”

“You’ve said that before,” he murmured, voice calm but sharp. “And came back blood-soaked, dragging a wild boar behind you.”

Ava smirked. “That boar was cursed. I did everyone a favor.”

That earned a flicker of a smile from him—barely—but it faded as quickly as it came. “You know the rules. If you’re out past moonfall, the sun could rise before you return. Get protection.”

“I’ll be fast—”

“Get it anyway,” he said firmly. “Tell your uncle to prepare the ointment. You’re strong, Ava, but you’re not invincible.”

Her smirk faded. “Yes, Father.”

She walked away briskly before he could say more. He meant well—he always did—but sometimes his concern felt like chains. She was the oldest in the coven by blood, yet no one treated her like it. Twenty-two years old, or so she’d been told. She couldn’t remember anything before waking up in House Elaris.

She passed through the winding corridors, torches flickering in their sconces. The manor was a beautiful cage—ancient stone, velvet curtains, and secrets tucked into every corner.

When she reached the infirmary, the door was ajar. She pushed it open with two fingers, expecting to see her uncle brewing his usual elixirs.

Instead, she saw him pressed against one of the housemaids, his hands tangled in her hair, mouths locked in something far more intense than medical care.

Ava froze. Her mouth opened, then closed.

A metal tray rattled as her elbow knocked it from the shelf. The couple broke apart like lightning had struck the room.

“Oh,” she said flatly. “Well. You’re busy.”

“Ava, wait—” Marcus began, red-faced.

She was already backing out. “Enjoy your… patient.”

Turning swiftly, she headed for the manor gates, smirking despite herself. If nothing else, that image would keep her amused for a week. But it meant no sun protection. She’d have to be quick.

She passed through the outer courtyard, the heavy iron gates creaking as they opened to the forest beyond. The night air wrapped around her like silk—cool, crisp, wild. Her senses sharpened instantly. Trees whispered secrets as the wind stirred their branches. The moon was high, full, and watching.

Ava inhaled deeply. Blood, earth, pine. The thrill of the hunt called to something deeper in her bones.

She didn’t know that above her, hidden in the darkness of the ridge, someone watched.

Still. Silent.

Eyes the color of wildfire narrowed on her form, tracking her every move.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe too loudly. She was fast, but not faster than him. Not yet.

She didn’t know she was part of something far older than this forest. Something that started before she was even born.

She didn’t know she had just stepped into the first line of a prophecy.

And he was waiting.