The Demoted Luna
His attention was entirely fixed on a small, wooden box he was holding in his hands, his fingers shaking so badly that the wood rattled against itself.
My gaze traveled down to his hands, and my breath caught in my throat. A dark, thick liquid was slowly seeping through the bottom seams of the box, dripping onto the clean stone floor with a soft, rhythmic patter. It was blood, fresh and unmistakable, staining Narek’s fingers a deep, horrific crimson.
"What is that, Narek?" I asked, my voice dangerously low as I stepped out of bed, the cold stone floor shocking my bare feet, though I barely felt it. "Where did you get that?"
Bab Populer