The blood moon rises without warning.
No emails. No celestial heads-up.
One moment, the Asterley sky is its usual slate gray — the next, a swollen red moon hangs low, casting the campus in the color of old wine and fresh wounds.
The students whisper about it in hushed tones.
"Once every thirteen years."
"An omen."
"Someone always disappears."
---
Haera stands at her window, arms crossed.
The mark on her shoulder burns again — not like fire, but like calling.
She doesn't flinch.
She just stares back at the moon.
And says: "I'm not running this time."
---
At her door, something slides under.
She turns.
A letter.
Unmarked.
Smelling faintly of iron.
---
She kneels and opens it slowly.
The paper is handmade, rough at the edges. The ink? Crimson.
Not metaphorically.
It's blood.
And the letter reads:
> "The cycle collapses tonight."
"Only one soul gets out."
"Choose before the mirror seals again — him or yourself."
> Signed,
The Watcher.
---
Her breath catches.
Cairos.
They're trying to make her choose.
Again.
And this time… it feels final.
---
She runs to the old greenhouse.
It's their meeting point now — the only place untouched by the school's illusions.
The vines have grown thicker, curling around the walls like sentries.
Inside, Cairos waits — pacing.
She throws the letter at him.
"I won't pick. Not again."
He reads it, jaw tightening.
"They're accelerating it," he mutters. "They want us panicked. Separated."
"Then we stay together."
---
He looks at her — like she's light itself.
"Do you mean that?"
"I do."
"You know what that could cost."
She shrugs. "I've died for less."
---
They hold hands in silence.
The blood moon rises higher.
And then the greenhouse creaks.
The glass above them fogs over, and a voice — cold and ancient — echoes from every direction:
> "You have until midnight."
---
Suddenly, vines shoot from the ground — faster than lightning.
They wrap around Cairos's ankles, pulling him to the floor.
Haera screams, gripping his arms.
More vines strike — wrapping around her wrists, dragging her backward.
She claws at the floor.
Cairos shouts her name.
And then —
Everything goes black.
---
She wakes up in a room of mirrors.
Alone.
Each mirror shows a different life again — but this time, all of them end the same way:
She survives. He doesn't.
The mirrors whisper:
> "You're the constant. The root. Let him go."
> "Let him go and you live."
> "Let him go…"
---
She covers her ears. Shouts.
"No."
---
The mirror in front of her cracks — revealing a final version.
One she hasn't seen before.
They both live.
They forget everything.
They're normal.
Teachers.
Parents.
They love gently, not tragically.
No marks. No cycles. No pain.
---
But they don't know each other.
Not really.
They're just happy strangers in the shape of soulmates.
---
The mirror pulses: Choose.
Haera closes her eyes.
Takes a breath.
And whispers:
> "I choose memory."
---
The room explodes with white light.
When she opens her eyes, she's in Cairos's arms.
The vines are gone.
The blood moon has passed.
And etched into the floor between them — in glowing silver —
Is a new mark:
> "Cycle 23: Broken."
---
She smiles weakly.
"We're still here."
He kisses her forehead.
"For now."
---
Somewhere deep in the stone of Asterley Academy, a door unlocks.
And behind it:
A voice growls,
> "Then let the war begin."