The Moon's Chosen
Moon Runneryou bleed just to know you're aliveyou will never see this face againsomeone trying to kill me in dreamyour gaze hits the side of my face
Another breath trembled out of me.
"No… no, no, this doesn’t make sense," I whispered to myself, pressing a palm to my chest in a weak effort to steady my heartbeat.
Blood Moons weren’t normal. They didn’t just show up in dreams for decoration. They carried weight. They were omens, warnings. They were messages from the Goddess.
And they NEVER rose quickly. They were rare, sacred, and terrifying.
Why would the Goddess show me that?
My breathing quickened again—faster, shorter, harsher—like the air itself had turned too thick to pull in.
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