All Chapters of Lovers For The Blood Moon: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Rise Of The MoonbearerThe forest shuddered under the weight of hundreds of unshed storms. Leaves ripped from trees, roots convulsed like serpents, and the sky itself cracked above Black Hollow fractures of gold and blood making strange patterns in the air.John stood in the heart of the clearing, chest heaving, eyes aflame. The wound in his side throbbed, but he barely felt it anymore, this wasn’t pain, It was purpose.Sarah knelt beside him, hands stained with ash and blood, dagger discarded, her silver hair plastered to her face. She looked up at him. “John … what are you doing?”He didn’t answer. Because the One Beneath the monster, the curse incarnate hovered over them both now. Each breath its exhaled, bent reality. It wore his mother’s face still, but twisted soft with regret, sharp with malice.“You are the heir,” it said again, voice echoing in the trees. “The bloodline of Crowe fulfilled, the Spiral broken, the Veil undone, rise.”John raised his head. His eyes caught the mo

The Voice of the SpiralThe priestess hovered in mid air, her body limp yet strangely held up by an unseen force, her head tilted back, crimson light poured from her eyes like leaking fire, her mouth opened and a thousand voices came out at once.“The cycle completes, the blood remembers, the Veil opens.”John flinched at the sound. Each word echoed inside his bones, Sarah stepped back, holding onto his arm.“It’s speaking through her,” she whispered. “The Spiral…”John didn’t blink. “This isn’t her voice.”From behind them, the skeletal creature knelt before the altar, It didn’t bow to the Spiral, nor to the hovering priestess, It bowed to John.Sarah’s voice shook. “Why is it kneeling to you?”“I don’t know,” John said. “But it knows who I am.”The mayor had gone pale, fear etching across his features. “This isn’t what we agreed on. She wasn’t supposed to wake the guardian.”David took a slow step back. “You said it could only rise under the blood moon.”The priestess’s body jerked

Echoes of the MoonJohn Crowe felt the weight of a hundred souls pressing down on him.The crown cold at first had turned warm on his head, then pulsed as though alive. It wasn’t just power resting on him, It was history, betrayal, memory, vows long broken, now reforged in blood and light.Sarah stood behind him, her breathing shallow, her sword unsheathed. She hadn’t let it go since they’d left the Hollow. Now, standing in the sacred grove beyond the cliffside, everything around them trembled with a strange stillness. No wind, no birds, even the trees seemed to listen.John raised his hand slowly. The crown hummed against his temple.From the mist, a figure emerged, David Holt.John stiffened, eyes narrowing. “You’re supposed to be dead.”David looked nothing like the man he used to be. He’d been remade by the Spiral, by darkness, by ambition. His eyes glowed faintly red, and his once-tattered robes were replaced with threads of shadows. But the hatred in them hadn't changed.David

The Forgotten RisingShe rose like smoke.The woman who once bore the crown the First Bearer, long thought to be legend, stood with fire in her eyes and power humming at her fingertips. Shadows bent to her presence. The crown pulsed gold and crimson, no longer floating, now fixed on her brow like it had never belonged to anyone else.Sarah staggered back."She took it," Sarah whispered.John stood frozen. The echo he’d just given up was gone. The connection shattered. The warmth that had once flowed through him like a promise of destiny had turned cold. His fingers trembled as he watched her step down from the pedestal like a queen returning to her broken kingdom.“You,” John rasped. “You were a memory. A warning.”The woman no longer spectral, no longer myth smiled faintly. “I was the beginning.”Callen lowered her staff slowly. “The Veil chose her.”“No,” John muttered, his voice rising. “It chose me. I was the heir.”“You were,” the first bearer said softly. “Until you gave it up,

Ashes of the HollowThe forest lay quiet now, a heavy, brittle quiet that pressed into John’s chest like ash settling after a fire. The moon hung full and red above the skeletons of trees, their branches snapped, leaves scorched, roots exposed. Black Hollow was burned, not by flame alone but by truth. John stood at the summit of a collapsed ridge, crown still resting on his brow though its weight felt lighter than air. His body trembled, fatigue settling in bone and muscle, but his mind raced faster than the wind through the charred trunks. Sarah was beside him, clutching his arm, eyes bright with fear and determination. Callen followed, staff in hand, haunted by what had happened below. They had returned from the forge with the crown, but the prize felt less like victory now and more like a wound. The Bearer had vanished into the chasm. Clint had fled. The crown was theirs, but the cost rang in every hollow tree, every echo of suffering. Sarah kissed the side of his face. “We d