บททั้งหมดของ Lovers For The Blood Moon: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

The Hollow’s HeartSarah hadn’t moved from the edge of the Moonwell.The others had tried Callen, even two of the Hollow’s survivors but she stayed, unmoving, eyes locked on the surface that had long since gone still. Her fingers clenched the rim of stone so tightly they had gone white.“John…” she whispered again, for the hundredth time.Still no answer, still no sign.The Moonwell, once a reservoir of ancient power, had turned into a mirror. But what it reflected back wasn’t the sky, It showed nothing, not even her.Callen approached, her staff tapping the mossy stone. “It’s been hours, the crown is destroyed, the Hollow’s curse is quiet now, But we have to leave this place.”Sarah’s eyes didn’t blink. “He’s not gone.”Callen lowered herself next to her. “What makes you so sure?”“Because I still feel him.” Her voice was quiet but certain. “Somewhere down there.”Callen hesitated. “If he’s alive… the vow would have latched onto him. That’s what it does, it never lets go, mot truly.”

The Vessel’s ChoiceThe circle pulsed around Sarah as if the Hollow itself breathed with her. Shadows of the forgotten dead flickered between the trees, eyes like lanterns, their mouths silent but watching.John stood behind her, heart pounding, unsure whether to pull her back or let her rise.The First One hovered just above the cracked mouth of the Moonwell, its torso fully formed, its claws spread wide like wings of ash and bone. It was monstrous too ancient for this world, too real for a nightmare.“You are nothing but a spark,” the creature hissed, its voice crawling into Sarah’s mind. “A flicker of stolen fire, return what is mine.”But Sarah didn’t waver.“I carry your curse,” she said. “But I carry their will too.”The priestess at the edge of the light stepped forward again, lifting her hands. Silver light poured through the circle and into Sarah. Runes burst across her arms, crawling up her neck.“She’s binding herself to the Hollow,” Callen whispered, her face pale. “She’s

Shadows of the BloodlineThe night clung to Black Hollow like a suffocating shroud. A thick mist curled around the crooked alleyways and ancient, crumbling stone buildings, swallowing the weak glow of the lampposts. Sarah’s breath came in shallow bursts, her heart pounding like a war drum against the fragile cage of her ribs. Beside her, John moved with quiet purpose, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back, grounding her amidst the rising chaos.The talisman she carried an intricately carved pendant pulsating with an eerie sapphire light felt heavy against her palm. It was the last relic left by Seraphina, the priestess who had vanished into legend decades ago. And tonight, as the blood moon crept high into the sky, its power thrummed stronger than ever.“Elijah said when the blood moon rises, the truth will no longer be hidden,” Sarah whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.John glanced down at her. “We’re close. I can feel it.”Together, they

The Blood Reversal The scroll in Sarah’s arms felt heavier than lead. Every step she took away from the collapsing chamber of the old altar echoed with the weight of centuries of blood, of broken vows, of the Hollow’s secret heart. The torchlight flickered across carved stone walls as she ran, her breaths ragged, but her pace sure, she would not stop, not now.Behind her, John’s scream still hung in the air, shattered stone, collapsing pillars, and a roar of metal on rock. Sarah didn’t dare look back. Not until she reached the river bend where the Moonwell waited, its water black as memory and reflective as regret.Elijah’s sanctuary lay hidden there an underground vault beneath the waterfall where the world above still half believed in daylight. Sarah set the scroll on the ancient lectern, the carved wolves etched into wood and stone glowing faintly with magic she no longer understood.She took a moment, pressing a hand to her chest. The bloodstone pulsed, hard and unforgiving. John

Blood Moon WarThe night sky bled crimson, the blood moon hung larger than ever above Black Hollow, casting the charred landscape in a hell‑light that illuminated the rising army of the Forgotten. Their ash‑gray forms moved like one breathing entity, bones and flesh stitched by ancient vows. The crown floated between two figures Clint, crowned and triumphant, and John Crowe, burning with something far deeper than anger.Beside John stood Sarah, her eyes glowing with the same eerie luminescence as the Forgotten. He tried to reach her hand, her glance, but she remained fixed on the crown, as though pulled by an unseen tether.Callen’s voice cut through the gut‑shaking roar of the army. “Stand firm! The reversal has begun. The seal is broken, the war is here.”John reached for his dagger, but it felt like iron. His veins pulsed with gold light where the Moonbearer’s mark once glowed. The crown above them throbbed, responding to the rising tide of souls. A tremor shook the ground. The For