All Chapters of PROPHECY OF THE MOON: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

The bell rang for break and I walked out of the class without saying a word. It had been an uneventful morning, no lectures; just some homework and study. The throbbing in my head subsided after rubbing my forehead a few times. The migraines came as they liked, followed by a ringing sound in my ears. The atmosphere was charged with cheering and consternation, but none of them was the cause of the migraines and the ringing. I needed to pour some water on my head. In the restroom, it was erringly quiet. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to share the space with some entitled self-conscious teenager, I made for the wash bowl and dipped my head in it. The water ran over my forehead. I didn’t mind that it touched my hair. The pounding subsided as I poured more water on it. Then there was creek, and the sound of a door opening. When I raised my head it wasn’t the front door but the door of one of the cubicles. It was the one directly behind me. What I saw next froze my blood. A hooded fi

After a moment of silence, I heard my mom say, "we have to talk to her and ask about the headaches and ringing.""But will you get anything new from asking her? I already told you all there is to it.""I think there is something new we might get. The headaches and ringing were not there while we were married, was it?" my mom asked."Before we get too worried, I think it time we talk to Vesta and tell our daughter who she is." My dad said."I insist we talk to her first."I knew it was time to leave, and I tiptoed back to the sofa.It took thirty minutes before they came out of the room. I was on Instagram, texting with Angela and looking at pictures on Ethan’s page. Ethan had sent me a message asking about my head and wishing me well. "What did you text in response?""I just sent him a thank you.""Just that? Didn’t you ask how his day went or if he missed you?""Why? He is not my boyfriend.""He could be if you had played your cards right.""I'm not supposed to make the first move,

LunaThe hospital room was silent. Too silent.I sat stiffly in the chair beside the bed, staring at my mother’s still form. The machines that once beeped with stubborn life had gone quiet, leaving only the hushed breaths of the nurses as they moved around me. Someone touched my shoulder—a gentle pressure—but I barely registered it.“She’s gone.”The words had been spoken minutes ago, but they refused to settle in my mind. Gone. As if she had simply walked out of the room and would return at any moment, brushing a stray curl from my face, murmuring words of comfort. But that moment never came. It never would.A sharp inhale cut through the silence. My father. He stood at the other side of the bed, his head bowed, hands clenched into tight fists. His face was unreadable, a mask of restraint, but I could see the storm brewing in his eyes.“Dad,” I whispered, my voice foreign even to my own ears.He didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stared at the love of his life, frozen in a grief so hea

LunaI sat in my bedroom, staring at the journal in my lap, my fingers absently tracing the edges of the worn leather cover. The words inside meant nothing. I had barely written a word since my mother’s death, and every time I tried, the ink bled into emptiness.The school day had passed in a haze. Camille had stayed by my side, her presence a lifeline, but even she couldn’t break through the fog of grief clinging to me. The whispers about me had continued, but I had long since learned to tune them out. What I couldn’t ignore was Rena Trevor.Something about her unsettled me. She had only been at Silverwoods High for a short time, yet she felt... familiar. It made no sense. I didn’t know her, had never met her before, but the glances she sent my way carried an odd weight, as if she knew something I didn’t.I sighed and closed the journal, setting it aside. The moment I did, a strange sensation prickled at the back of my neck. A whisper—not a voice, but a presence, something unseen bru

LunaThe scream died in my throat before it ever left my lips.I sat bolt upright in bed, soaked in sweat, heart hammering like a war drum. My sheets clung to my skin, tangled around my legs like vines. The dream—no, the nightmare—was already fading, but the feeling clung to me. That voice, those words. The mist. The glowing eyes in the dark. The symbol.It wasn’t just a dream. I knew that now.My breath came in sharp bursts as I stared at the shadows stretching across my room, waiting for them to shift into something else. Something watching.“Luna?” Camille’s voice cut through the haze. “You okay?”She stood in the doorway, clutching a blanket around her shoulders. She must’ve heard me. Camille had stayed the night after we binge-watched bad horror movies and fell asleep halfway through the second one.“Sorry,” I whispered. “I… had a bad dream.”She didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room and sat beside me, pulling her blanket over us both like a shield. “Wanna talk about it?”I shook