All Chapters of Lovers For The Blood Moon: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The Face Between ShadowsThe child stood in the tunnel mouth silent, small, cloaked in half‑shadows. Its eyes glowed gold, the same color as Seraphina’s had. The air between us felt torn. That gaze cut deeper than any blade.Dante gripped my arm. Theron’s claws scraped stone. Sarah’s hand trembled around David. John and Daniel hovered behind, light flickering, hearts pounding.The child raised a hand. It whispered:“You are mine.”Time stuttered.I blinked.Then lunged forward.But the child vanished. Like smoke.One moment it was there. The next it dissolved into flickers, leaving only echoes of gold in the darkness.A gasp broke the silence.Theron roared in frustration. Roots and shadows surged. The tunnel walls convulsed. Runic patterns glowed, cast in half‑light, shifting as though alive.I stumbled back. Dante steadied me. The cracked journal lay in the dust between us. Its pages fluttered open to a half‑seen sketch two women, mirror images, standing in moonlight.Seraphina, Me,

The Echo of Her BloodThe forest night was cold, though the air between us crackled with heat. We fled Black Hollow under moonless skies, but I felt the Blood Moon’s hum inside my veins. The child bound in darkness, the beast’s command “Raise her or be destroyed” haunted every heartbeat.We didn’t speak. Dante held Sarah and David close as we walked. Theron guarded our rear, claws scraping against undergrowth. John and Daniel went ahead, scouting, listening. The world felt warped now. The shadows felt alive.I tried to steady my breathing, but inside me, the echoes stirred. Seraphina’s voice in dreams, the twin’s whispers, the monster’s claim: “She is yours and mine.”We found refuge in the old chapel on the hill ruins smothered by vines and time. We entered through a side arch. Inside, pews lay broken, roof caved in, Moonlight leaked through cracks, casting eerie slivers across dirt floor. I sank to the altar steps, trembling. Sarah knelt beside David. He was still pale but breathin

The One Who RemembersShe stood in the smoke where the child had fallen, clothed in the same small white dress, but her body had lengthened, her posture sharpened. Her face… it was mine. But twisted refined by age, power, and memory that was never mine to hold.The being smiled, tilting her head.“I remember,” she said again. Her voice wasn’t childish anymore. It was silk wrapped around knives. “I remember the seal, the vow, the betrayal.” Her eyes flicked to Seraphina, who stood paralyzed by the altar ruins. “And I remember you.”Seraphina didn’t speak. The color drained from her skin.Theron moved to my side, claws ready. “Is that her?”“No,” I whispered, eyes wide. “It’s something older. It’s… what she was before she was sealed.”The girl no, the being lifted her arms and looked at her hands. Her fingers shimmered with pale red light, tips smoking as though dipped in blood and time. Around her, the spiral etched in the ground pulsed to life, roots sprouting along its edges.Dante t

The Fractured ChoiceThe chamber pulsed with silence, but nothing felt still.Two versions of her now stood before us. The one who had begged for help, fractured, afraid, still holding the spiral dagger and the other, taller, stronger, wearing a crown of bone and the look of someone who had already decided the outcome.They stared at each other, mirror and shadow, heartbeat and echo.Seraphina whispered, “This isn’t a split. It’s a division, one born of power, one born of pain.” “she chose to sever herself,” I said, numb. “To survive what the Voice tried to consume.”The crowned one turned her eyes on me. They glowed with ancient fire. “No, you severed me. You raised one half of me in lies and silence, you buried my hunger, my memory, but I remember now.”She raised her hand.The walls of the chamber warped, twisted into jagged shapes. Screams echoed from memories not ours.The frightened version dagger trembling in her hand stepped back. “This isn’t what I wanted, I didn’t ask for t

The BecomingThe spiral dagger shattered in my hand.The explosion wasn’t fire or lightit was memory. A flood of centuries poured through me: sorrow, sacrifice, betrayal. I saw the first priestess kneeling in blood. I saw Elias standing at the gate, offering her immortality if she would only bow, I saw her refuse, and I saw him curse her anyway.The curse wasn’t just power. It was fragmentation splitting her soul into three so none would ever be whole again.And now, they were all inside me.I gasped, falling to my knees. My body felt like it was splitting open, not from pain, but from knowing.Elias staggered back.“No... that’s not possible,” he hissed. “You shouldn’t have survived that.”But I wasn’t just John Crowe anymore. I was the priestess. I was her rage. I was her hope. I was the vow beneath the blood moon.Sarah’s voice pierced the noise. “John!” I turned barely human now. My skin shimmered with moonlight and spiral markings. My voice came out layered, old and new, male a