CHAPTER NO 3
The Blood Moon Trip
Cold seeped into Selene's bones long before the dawn came. She didn't know how long she'd been in the stone cell—hours or days. The air tasted of iron and snow. She drew her knees to her chest, listening to the drip of water somewhere deep in the dark.
Then, footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
The door scraped open. A tall woman entered, cloaked in crimson. Not a guard. Her eyes glowed faintly gold, softer than the others'."I'm called Maelin," she said. "The princess sent me."
Selene hesitated. "To do what?"
"To prepare you. There's to be a Blood-Moon Trial tonight. All who enter the realm unbidden must stand before the court."
Maelin studied her hair with something close to pity. "If the prophecy marks you, child, no prison can keep you. If it doesn't…" She didn't finish the sentence.
She bathed Selene in water that steamed with herbs, dressed her in silver fabric light as mist, and led her through corridors carved from black crystal.
The throne hall was a cathedral of shadows. Firelight spilled across marble that shone red as wine. Vampires filled the balconies—hundreds of eyes burning like coals. At the far end sat Princess Nyra Valeis, armored even at court, the crimson of her cape pooling like blood around her boots.
Selene's heart pounded as she was brought forward.
Nyra rose. "The human who fell through the veil," she said. Her voice carried both authority and curiosity. "Tell me your name."
"Selene."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. A priest unfurled an ancient scroll. "That name belongs to the one born under twin moons, cursed by mortal rejection, chosen by the veil itself."
Nyra descended the steps. Up close, her presence pressed like a storm—cold, powerful, strangely magnetic. "Show me your mark."
Selene blinked. "Mark?"
"Every soul chosen by the veil carries one."
Reluctantly, Selene lifted the back of her gown. There, just below her shoulder, light bloomed—an intricate sigil of crescent shapes, glowing faintly pink-white. Gasps filled the hall.
Nyra's expression changed. Not fear. Recognition.
"She bears the Moonfire Seal," someone whispered. "The prophecy of union."
The Princess's hand trembled for a heartbeat before she caught herself. "Enough," she commanded. "Clear the court."
The hall emptied. Only Nyra and Selene remained, two figures divided by fate and silence.
"You shouldn't exist," Nyra said quietly. "Your kind dies long before crossing our border."
"I didn't choose to come," Selene replied. "Something pulled me here."
"Then that something is cruel."
For a long moment, Nyra's gaze softened, as if she saw not a trespasser but a mirror. Then she turned away. "You'll stay in the upper chambers until I decide your fate."
Selene hesitated. "Why keep me alive?"
Nyra's lips curved—half smile, half warning. "Because I want to know why your eyes feel like memory."
That night, from her new room high in the palace, Selene looked through the window. A crimson moon rose above the towers, casting the realm in dreamlight. In the courtyard below, Nyra stood alone, sword drawn, practicing until sparks leapt from her blade.
Something about her loneliness reached across the distance. Selene pressed her palm to the glass. "Who are you, really?" she whispered.
The wind carried her voice away—straight toward the warrior below. Nyra paused, looked up at the tower, eyes meeting hers for a heartbeat that felt endless.
Neither spoke. Neither needed to.
When the moonlight touched both their faces, the same whisper echoed again through the world between them:
Two hearts born beneath one curse… will burn together or break the night apart.