Chapter 1: The Blood Moon's Whisper
The sky over the Kingdom of Astralline was no longer the comforting velvet blue of dusk. Instead, it bled. A deep, haunting crimson stained the horizon as the Blood Moon began its ascent—a celestial event that occurred only once every hundred years. To the common folk, it was a night of terror, a time to bolt their doors and draw their iron-laced curtains. To Elora, it felt like a homecoming.
Standing by her attic window, Elora watched the mist roll down from the Forbidden Peaks. In the distance, the jagged silhouette of the Shadow Palace loomed like a silent predator. Legend said that within those obsidian walls dwelt the Cursed Prince, a being of pure shadow who required a soul to maintain his immortality every century.
Elora's hand drifted to the copper locket resting against her collarbone. Usually cold and dull, the metal was now pulsing with a rhythmic, searing heat. It throbbed in sync with her own heartbeat.
"Elora! Get away from that window this instant!" her grandmother's voice cracked through the small room like a whip. "The air is thick with ancient malice tonight. Do not let the moonlight touch your skin."
Elora sighed, pulling the heavy wool curtains shut. "It's just a myth, Nana. The Prince is a ghost story told to keep children from wandering into the woods."
"A ghost story does not turn the sky the color of fresh slaughter," the old woman muttered, her eyes darting to the locket. "Keep that hidden. If the Royal Inquisitors see the glow, they will burn this house with us inside."
In Astralline, magic was a death sentence. The Great Purge had wiped out the mages decades ago, leaving only 'The Pure' to rule. But Elora knew she wasn't pure. Her blood hummed with a melody she couldn't silence—a frequency that responded to the shadows outside.
That night, sleep was an impossibility. At the stroke of midnight, a sound vibrated through the floorboards. It wasn't a noise, but a pull—a psychic tether yanking at her very soul. The locket wasn't just warm now; it was glowing with a fierce, ethereal blue light that threatened to illuminate the entire street.
Driven by an impulse she couldn't control, Elora threw on her dark cloak and slipped out of the back door. The village of Oakhaven was deathly silent, but the forest was alive. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches whispering her name in a language made of wind and dry leaves.
She ran. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she followed the blue light of her locket, deeper into the Forbidden Woods than any sane person would dare. The air grew colder, frost crystallizing on the summer ferns.
Suddenly, she broke into a clearing. At its center stood the ruins of a Sun-God temple, its white marble cracked and reclaimed by ivy. Standing amidst the rubble was a man.
He was tall, draped in midnight silks that seemed to move even when there was no wind. A heavy silver claymore was strapped to his back, but it was his aura that froze Elora in her tracks. Shadows swirled around his feet like ink in water, extinguishing the very light of the moon.
When he turned, Elora's heart nearly stopped. His face was a masterpiece of lethal beauty—sharp cheekbones, skin like pale marble, and eyes that burned like dying embers. But those eyes weren't filled with malice; they were filled with a crushing, centuries-old exhaustion.
"So," he spoke, his voice a low vibration that resonated in Elora's bones. "The star finally falls back to earth."
Elora gripped her locket, her knuckles white. "Who are you? How do you know me?"
The man took a step forward, the shadows at his feet reaching out like hungry fingers. "I am the nightmare your people use to frighten their young. I am Kaelen, the Shadow Prince. And as for how I know you..." He gestured to her glowing locket. "That trinket doesn't belong to you, little thief. It is half of my soul. And tonight, I've come to take it back."
Elora backed away, hitting the cold stone of a fallen pillar. "I'm not a thief. This has been in my family for generations!"
Kaelen was suddenly in front of her—faster than humanly possible. He didn't grab her; he simply hovered his hand near her chest. The locket flared with such intensity that Elora cried out. A surge of raw, golden energy leaped from the copper and snaked up Kaelen's arm.
He let out a strangled groan, his eyes widening in shock. Instead of reclaiming his power, the energy seemed to be merging with hers. For a moment, their souls touched—a chaotic explosion of memories: a burning throne, a girl with silver hair, and a vow made in blood.
"Impossible," Kaelen whispered, his face inches from hers. "The prophecy said the Last Mage would be my executioner... not my anchor."
Suddenly, a horn blasted from the edge of the clearing. The forest lit up with the orange glow of a hundred torches. "There they are! The Abomination and the Witch!" a voice bellowed.
Kaelen's expression shifted from shock to a cold, ruthless resolve. He grabbed Elora's waist, pulling her flush against his chest. "If you stay here, they will execute you before the sun rises," he hissed into her ear.
"And if I go with you?" Elora gasped, her heart hammering against his.
Kaelen looked at the approaching army of Inquisitors, then back at her. A dark, dangerous smirk played on his lips. "Then you will become the most hunted woman in the world. But I promise you this, Elora—you will never be bored."
Before she could answer, the ground beneath them dissolved into a whirlpool of darkness. As the first arrow hissed through the air where they had just been standing, Elora felt herself falling into a void of shadow and starlight, tethered to the very monster she was taught to fear.