Whisper Of The Crimson Moon

      Elizabeth wandered through the castle corridors. The echo of her restless footsteps rang against the stone walls. Her mother had replaced the tapestries. Now they depicted ancient battles, some of them resembling the runes of blood magic.       Through the narrow windows, the crimson moon seeped in. The stale air was filled with the scent of dust from old books and candle wax, mingling with the cold. Cold… it had always been a part of her. As long as she could remember, nothing could change it. Nothing—except your return.       She hadn’t slept for several days, exhausting herself with magic. Her pale skin had grown even paler, her crimson eyes constantly glistening with tears. Yes… you had returned from the front. But at what cost?       A living man. A cripple without an arm, broken by war. She had embraced you, staring at your empty sleeve, at your hollow gaze. Your eyes were filled with bitterness, and it tore her apart from within.       One hundred and twenty years—a never-ending cycle where losses piled up like a snowball. Yet a single loss could still feel unbearable. “What have I done…?”       She whispered, touching a drop of blood on her hand. It formed into a rune, glowing faintly, sending a tingling through her skin. Saving you had cost too much—your weakness, and the guilt burning her soul.       Elizabeth returned to the library. New books and ancient scrolls had appeared on the shelves—no doubt brought by Count Walter, as she didn’t recognize a single spine.       She walked deeper inside, toward the table where her father had worked. Moonlight spilled across its surface, illuminating a short manuscript: “High Blood Magic: Resurrection.” Its pages were yellowed with age, worn and torn in places. Yet magical texts were difficult to conceal. The runes within pulsed faintly, like echoes of a forgotten spell.       Elizabeth sat down, her dress creasing beneath her, and traced a line that pulsed stronger than the rest. “To turn a human into a ghoul, the subject must renounce their humanity.”       She had read that line a hundred times already. And every time, she leaned back, breathing heavily. Her father’s words echoed again: “It’s your choice, Lizet. Perform it—and he will be yours. Forever.”       But every time, she came to the same conclusion: forever was a golden cage, not true love.       She heard your slow footsteps in the corridors. Your limp. Your strained breaths you tried to hide. She knew your condition was worsening—and it only fed her growing madness.       Her fear of losing you had long since turned into obsession. Her magical exhaustion proved it. She watched you through hidden runes, whispered spells, desperately trying—and failing—to ease your suffering. He is mine.       The thought came with a smile. And it terrified her. So much that a quiet laugh slipped from her lips.       At that moment, Count Walter entered the library. His cane struck the floor like a metronome—perfectly in rhythm with his steps. He approached the table and studied Elizabeth. Cold crimson eyes fixed on his daughter. Behind him came the countess, her necklace now replaced with a collar adorned with countless red stones. “Lizet. You’ve seen him yourself. What will you do?”       Elizabeth turned sharply toward them. Her eyes flared with rising magic. “He’s already come back to me. I just need to find a way to help him.”       Walter exhaled heavily. Liliana stepped closer, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders—cold, yet faintly maternal. “You already know the way. His will, his humanity—they mean nothing compared to your goal.”       Elizabeth shot to her feet, clutching herself. Their words echoed again and again. Tears streamed down her face. “No. No! I won’t turn him into a puppet. He’s Leon. The man I love with all my heart—not a thing!”       Walter let out a quiet chuckle and struck the floor with his cane. A surge of magic ran through Elizabeth’s body. She tried to resist. Useless. Walter was a master of control magic. “Then you will lose him, Lizet. Humans are weak. Their lives are brief, insignificant to us. You’ve seen how often they die—unable to survive even young Bloodthirsters.”       He exhaled slowly. Liliana stood beside him. “The choice is yours, daughter. Continue exhausting yourself and bury him with your own hands—or grant him life in a new form.”       The aristocrats watched her for a few moments longer, then turned to leave. “You’ll find everything for the ritual in the basement. It’s waiting for you.”       The door slammed shut. Their footsteps faded, leaving the viscountess alone with the book.       Its pages seemed to whisper. A sudden gust of wind burst through the window, scattering papers into the air. Only after a few moments did she realize what was happening. She closed the window and looked at the scattered sheets.       Their words merged into a single phrase: “Bring a human sacrifice.” —       You sat in your cramped room in the castle barracks. The air smelled of mold from damp walls and metal from weapons hanging on hooks. But you no longer even noticed—it had become too familiar.       The crimson moon shone through a small barred window, its light falling on your empty sleeve, tied in a rough knot below the elbow. Every movement of the stump sent waves of throbbing pain through your body.       You touched it with your remaining hand, feeling phantom pain—fingers that no longer existed clenching into a fist, like a memory of strength. Memories of the last battle crashed over you: the whispers of Bloodshades in the mist, the claw tearing your arm away, the medallion’s light driving the creature back. You saved me, Elizabeth.       You looked at the medallion. A cross within a circle—the symbol your father had carved before his death. You remembered your childhood: a modest home, the smell of fresh bread, your father telling stories of heroes who fought Bloodthirsters. “He will protect you, Leon.”       But it wasn’t the medallion that had saved you—it was a vampire. The very beings you hated more than ever. You had come to the count to become stronger. But who needed you now?       Your comrades looked at you with pity. But you knew what lay beneath it—contempt. What can I give her now?       You clenched your fist. For a moment, it seemed the moon flickered in response—but it was only mockery. Emotions pressed down like a suffocating cloak. It took only seconds for tears to burn in your eyes.       You stood and limped to the table, where a scroll lay—a report on battles with Bloodthirsters and Bloodshades. The captain had allowed you to take it from the archive. But why were your fingers trembling?       You unrolled the parchment. The smell of ink and dust hit you. “Attack on the lands of Baron Reine… What?”       You barely remembered your childhood. Least of all that you had been a baron’s son. You read on, the lines blurring. “Bloodthirsters infiltrated… selected the Reine household… one survivor escaped by chance… what the—”       The text rushed past your eyes until the final lines: “Initiation completed successfully. Count Velmond has officially recognized Elizabeth as Viscountess. Emperor Alaris has confirmed—”       The line ended abruptly, as if deliberately cut off. Below it—a Velmond seal, marked with a faint blood rune. Your heart clenched. “No… it can’t be.”       You refused to believe it. But everything pointed to the same truth. “Your parents… the Velmonds…”       The whisper returned—sharp, piercing. You threw the scroll aside, stepping back until you hit the wall. Your heart pounded wildly. “I need answers. I need answers!”       Your legs carried you toward the library. One of the few places Elizabeth loved. Your footsteps echoed through empty halls. You felt like a mouse in a lion’s den.       The library door stood slightly open. Moonlight spilled inside.       You entered—and saw her. Elizabeth, gathering scattered papers. She set them on the table and sat, leaning over the book. As you came closer, you noticed tears in her crimson eyes.       She saw you and flinched, quickly closing the tome—but you caught the subtitle: “Resurrection.” “Elizabeth.”       Your voice was hoarse with pain and anger. She rose instantly and rushed to you, embracing you tightly. “Leon…”       She whispered, clinging to you. Her cold body made you shiver. You pulled away, producing the scroll—you hadn’t even realized when you had tucked it away. “What is that book? And this… I found it in the archive. What ‘Initiation’? What does ‘recognized the title’ mean? Please… tell me the truth.”       You lowered your head, clenching your fist. Emotions surged—but you tried to hold them back.       Elizabeth couldn’t. Her eyes widened. She grew even paler. Tears streamed down her face. “You wouldn’t understand, Leon…”       She whispered.       You grabbed her hand tightly. “Then explain! Tell me! PLEASE!”       Your voice broke. Pain surged through your arm again. Elizabeth collapsed into a chair, tears falling to the floor. “They… my parents were there. It was an initiation ritual—sacred to vampires. I was only a child, but… I took part. Your parents’ blood… was needed for it.”       You recoiled as if struck. “You… you killed them?”       The whisper roared in your mind—Bloodshades, the medallion, your own sanity unraveling. “No! It was… necessary. For the family.”       A low hum filled the library. You fell to your knees. The truth crushed you in an instant. Tears burned your eyes. “You’re a monster. Not even human—just an imitation.”       She sobbed harder, reaching toward you. “I love you, Leon.”       But you turned and left, limping out of the library, leaving her behind—with the book and the whispers. —       Hours passed before Elizabeth came to herself. Dozens of shapeless Shadows moved around her. “My lady, you are unwell. Please, rest.”       One of them said. She ignored it, continuing to study the ancient text. The book seemed to whisper—hinting at something that would one day return to haunt her. “I’ve lost him.” “Do not worry, my lady. Can you not simply turn him into one of us?”       The magic was slowly driving her mad. The Shadows only fueled her instability. When a drop of blood fell onto the table, something inside her cracked. “Yes… yes, you’re right. All of you. You, my mother, my father. His life is full of regret. Resurrection will help him.”       From the darkness between the shelves, the count and countess watched. Their silhouettes were like shadows of fate. “She’s ready.” “I agree.”       They nodded to each other.       Elizabeth noticed them, wiped away her tears, and nodded back with a faint smile. The Shadows around her began to stir.       The library plunged into darkness.       Only the whisper of the wind through the window remained.