🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan
Chapter Twenty: The City That Forgot Itself
Skarvale woke screaming.
It began with whispers in the wind—soft, like a child calling for help. Then the bells stopped ringing. Then the sky cracked, not with thunder… but with silence.
And then came the Monster.
It stepped through the north gate unseen.
No doors broke. No torches flickered.
It just arrived.
And the moment it stepped into the streets, people vanished.
A woman laughed in the market—then blinked and found herself alone. A boy selling firefruit opened his mouth to shout and found he could no longer remember his name.
The Monster consumed the memory of life.
And with each soul taken, its body grew clearer.
Draven stood on the balcony of the inn, locket glowing bright. He didn't need to see it to know:
The Nameless One was here.
He grabbed the moon-crystal blade and shouted, "Elira! Callen!"
Elira came first, already casting runes of light into her palms. "It's inside the walls. It's feeding."
Callen stepped out, breath short. "We're not ready for this."
"Then we have to run," Draven said.
But Callen didn't move.
Behind his back, he clutched something—a scroll bearing the Sisterhood's sigil.
"Come alone. When the moon breaks. We will give you the crown. You were always meant to lead."
He looked at Draven.
At the sword in his friend's hand.
At the glow that matched his own.
For a moment—just a moment—he wondered if Draven should fall.
Below, the Monster moved into the square.
It didn't look like smoke anymore.
It looked like a man without skin, with mirrors for eyes and a mouth that poured black light.
Every step it took left nothing behind.
And then… it looked up.
At them.
The building cracked in half.
The Monster didn't climb—it appeared, rising like fog through the floorboards.
Elira screamed a warning and threw a wave of moonfire—but it passed through the creature like light through glass.
It reached for Draven.
And Draven raised the moon-crystal blade.
The blade lit with all three names.
Arilyn. Kaelen. Syrien.
The Monster paused.
Then screamed.
Not out loud.
In their minds.
A sound that felt like being forgotten.
Callen shoved Draven away just in time.
The Monster struck the floor, and the room folded in on itself—timber and stone turning to ash.
Elira cast a blinding rune and pulled both boys down the stairs.
"Temple vault," she gasped. "Beneath the city. It's lined with old wards—strong enough to hold for a while."
They ran.
Behind them, the Monster moved slower now—but with more hunger.
It had seen the blade.
It had seen the names.
And it would not stop until it unmade them all.
In the vault below Skarvale's temple, they sealed the door with seven runes.
Elira collapsed beside the altar.
Draven fell to his knees, blade still glowing.
Callen stood near the back, fists clenched.
"I could've stopped it," he muttered.
Draven looked up. "What do you mean?"
"I could've taken the scroll. I could've left when I had the chance."
"You stayed," Draven said. "That's what matters."
But Callen didn't meet his eyes.
Because part of him still wasn't sure why he stayed.
Above, the Monster wandered through the empty streets.
It didn't chase.
It waited.
And as it walked, buildings forgot how to stand. Stones slid from each other. Wood fell into silence.
By dawn, half of Skarvale was gone.
And the sky whispered:
"Moonblood… Moonblood…"