Killing The Moon

Pain.

That was the first thing Arielle felt.

Cold. Sharp. Absolute.

It wasn't a nightmare.

It was ice water spreading through her veins.

She tried to move her arms.

She couldn't.

Thick ropes bound her wrists to the rough stone.

The altar dug into her back.

Above her, the full moon shone.

Bright. Pale. Indifferent.

"I really am sorry, Arielle."

The voice was soft.

Too soft.

Arielle blinked, trying to clear the fog from her eyes.

Damian stood over her.

Her fiancé.

The Alpha of the Silverclaw Pack.

The man who promised to marry her tomorrow morning.

He wasn't smiling.

He held a long silver dagger in his right hand.

The blade was wet.

Red.

Her blood.

Arielle looked down at her chest.

There was a hole in her white dress.

A dark stain spreading fast.

He had stabbed her.

Right in the heart.

"Why?" she whispered.

Her voice was barely a sound.

Just a wet rattle.

She coughed, and copper tasted hot in her mouth.

Damian wiped a speck of blood from his cheek.

He didn't look sad.

He didn't look guilty.

He looked... bored.

Like he was throwing away a broken toy.

"The Inquisition needs a key," he said calmly.

"Your blood is an anomaly, darling."

"It is the only way to close the Blood Eclipse."

"You are a martyr now."

"Be proud."

Arielle stared at him.

The love in her heart turned to ash.

The promises were lies.

The protection was a cage.

She was just livestock.

Fattened up for the slaughter.

A heavy iron door creaked open nearby.

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor.

An older man in crimson robes stepped into the light.

A jagged scar ran across his left eye.

Kaelen. The High Inquisitor.

"Is it done?" Kaelen asked.

His voice was dry as old parchment.

"Yes," Damian replied.

He stepped back from the altar, wiping his blade on a cloth.

"She is fading fast."

"Good."

Kaelen nodded, checking his pocket watch.

"The timing is perfect."

"Dispose of the body immediately."

"Throw her into the Void Chasm."

"Leave no evidence."

"Understood."

Damian snapped his fingers.

Two massive guards stepped out of the shadows.

They didn't speak.

They grabbed Arielle’s limp body.

They untied the ropes and lifted her up.

She felt weightless.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to claw Damian’s perfect face.

But her muscles were dead.

Her vision was tunneling to black.

She watched Damian turn away.

He walked toward Kaelen.

They started talking about politics.

About the next election.

He didn't even look back to watch her die.

The disrespect burned hotter than the wound.

The guards dragged her to the edge of the cliff.

The wind howled up from below.

It smelled of sulfur and ozone.

The Void Chasm.

The garbage dump of the universe.

"Sweet dreams, princess," one guard grunted.

They swung her body.

Once.

Twice.

They let go.

Arielle fell.

Gravity took her.

The wind rushed past her ears like a scream.

She closed her eyes.

She waited for the impact.

She waited for the end.

She didn't pray to the Moon Goddess.

She didn't ask for salvation.

She hated them.

She hated Damian for the betrayal.

She hated Kaelen for the order.

She hated herself for being weak.

I want them to suffer, she thought.

It was her final wish.

A curse screamed into the dark.

THUD.

She hit the bottom.

It wasn't rock.

It wasn't water.

It was... thick.

Like falling into a pool of cold oil.

She didn't break.

The impact knocked the air out of her, but her bones held.

She lay there in the dark.

Silence.

Then, movement.

The black mist around her wasn't just air.

It was alive.

It swirled around her body.

It found the hole in her chest.

It entered her.

It didn't feel like healing.

It felt like an invasion.

Cold tendrils wrapped around her heart.

They stitched the torn flesh together.

They replaced the lost blood with shadow.

Arielle gasped.

Her eyes snapped open.

Thump.

Her heart beat.

It was a heavy, unnatural rhythm.

Thump-thump.

The pain vanished.

It was replaced by hunger.

A starving, hollow feeling in her gut.

She pushed herself up.

Her body felt light.

Too fast. Too reactive.

She looked at a puddle of black water nearby.

Her reflection stared back.

Her face was the same.

But her hair was different.

The tips were dipped in shimmering silver.

And her left eye.

It was gone.

Replaced by a solid black orb.

No white. No iris. Just the Void.

"What am I?" she whispered.

Her voice echoed.

It sounded deeper. Dangerous.

She looked at her hands.

Her fingernails had turned black.

They lengthened into sharp, obsidian claws.

HSSSS.

A sound came from the corner of the pit.

Arielle turned her head.

She could see perfectly in the pitch black.

A rat.

But not a normal rat.

It was the size of a wolf.

Its skin was rotting. Its eyes glowed red.

A Void Beast.

The monster crouched.

It smelled the fresh blood on her dress.

It screeched and lunged.

Yellow teeth snapped at her throat.

Yesterday, Arielle would have frozen.

She would have cried.

But today?

She felt nothing but instinct.

Manual Mode engaged.

She didn't think.

She didn't panic.

She just moved.

She stepped to the side.

A blur of motion.

The rat missed her by an inch.

As it flew past, Arielle reached out.

She didn't strike it.

She grabbed it by the neck.

Her grip was iron.

The rat thrashed, scratching her arm.

It didn't hurt.

Arielle tightened her grip.

She felt the energy inside the beast.

She pulled.

Black smoke erupted from her palm.

It wrapped around the rat.

The beast shrieked.

Then it stopped.

Its body began to wither.

The flesh turned gray.

Then dust.

It crumbled in her hand.

The essence of the beast flowed into Arielle.

It filled her veins.

The hunger in her stomach faded.

She dropped the dust.

She stood up straight.

She flexed her new claws.

Power.

She had never felt power before.

She looked up at the distant opening of the chasm.

Miles above her.

Damian was up there.

Drinking his wine.

Thinking he had won.

Thinking the problem was solved.

He was wrong.

He hadn't buried a victim.

He had planted a seed.

Arielle walked to the cliff wall.

She jammed her claws into the stone.

It crumbled like chalk.

She pulled herself up.

It would be a long climb.

But she had time.

She smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile.

It was sharp. Predatory.

"Laugh while you can, Damian," she whispered.

"I'm coming back."

"And I'm bringing hell with me."

She began to climb.

One hand after another.

The Sacrificial Lamb was dead.

The Queen of Nightmares was born.