Heathrine pushed open the doors to the outside world, stepping into a scene of utter chaos. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood, and the once quiet town of Krenkol was now drenched in destruction. The streets were filled with burning buildings, their flames licking at the night sky, casting flickering shadows over the ground. The faint crackling of fire was punctuated by the occasional distant scream, but the dead silence between those moments was even more unsettling.
Above it all, hanging ominously in the sky, was the source of the eerie red glow that bathed the town in crimson light, the moon. But this was no ordinary moon. It was swollen and bright, a large pulsating red spot marring its surface, as though the celestial body itself was bleeding. Its light bathed the town, casting everything in a sickly red hue that seemed to seep into the very bones of the earth.
"What... the..."
Heathrine muttered, her usually composed demeanor faltering as she stared up at the moon. For a brief moment, her eyes widened in disbelief, and then her vision began to blur. Her head felt heavy, as if a fog had suddenly descended upon her mind, clouding her thoughts. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she could feel something, something dark and primal - stirring deep within her, clawing its way to the surface. For a fleeting second, Heathrine felt herself slipping, her senses overwhelmed by the light of the moon. She clutched her head in a desperate attempt to fight off the daze, her fingers digging into her scalp as a sharp pain pierced through her skull.
The sensation was unlike anything she had felt before, an insidious thirst... a deep, unquenchable thirst for blood.
Gritting her teeth, Heathrine forced herself to focus, her mind clawing its way back to clarity.
"No," she growled under her breath.
With sheer force of will, she snapped herself out of the daze, her body trembling as she wrestled control back from the creeping madness that had tried to overtake her.
A dark mass surged up from the ground, and coiled around her, enveloping her in its protective embrace and shielding her from the red moonlight. The mist acted like a barrier, dulling the effects of the moon’s influence as Heathrine took a deep, steadying breath.
She looked around, her eyes scanning the street. The devastation was absolute. Dead bodies were strewn across the cobblestones, some burned beyond recognition, others bearing signs of violent, bloody deaths. The town had become a graveyard, and the red moon above only seemed to magnify the horror. Heathrine gripped her head once more, wincing as another sharp sensation rang through her skull. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting it down, pushing it deep within herself. This was no time for weakness.
She forced herself to stand tall, gathering her composure as the dark mist settled around her like a second skin.
With deliberate movements, she reached into the inside pocket of her coat and pulled out a small, worn notebook. The leather cover was scuffed from years of use, its edges frayed. She opened it casually, flipping through the yellowed pages until she found what she was looking for. Her eyes scanned the handwritten notes, her brow furrowing as she tapped her finger against a particular page.
Her expression became one of uncertainty, something rare for Heathrine. She bit her lip, a faint flicker of doubt crossing her features as her finger traced the lines of text. It was as if she were trying to make sense of something, connecting dots in her mind that didn’t quite fit.
The contents of the notebook held answers, but they also held more questions, questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to confront. After a moment, she let out a small sigh and snapped the notebook shut, slipping it back into her coat pocket with a sense of quiet resignation.
As she continued her walk down the steps of the station and onto the blood-soaked streets of Krenkol, Heathrine’s gaze drifted back to the pulsating red moon. The dark mist clung to her protectively, warding off the madness that threatened to overwhelm her, but she knew that the night was far from over.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
...
In the field of red, Regna screamed, her voice raw and filled with agony. Her body trembled violently, nearly collapsing under the weight of the pain that wracked her from within. She clutched at her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as if trying to hold herself together, but the overwhelming torment made it impossible to think, impossible to breathe.
Her mind was being torn apart. It felt as though something was clawing its way through her very soul, shredding her thoughts, her memories, everything that made her who she was.
She couldn’t understand it. What had she done to deserve this? What kind of sin had she committed to be subjected to such unimaginable torment? Each breath she took was a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder that she was still alive. And yet, for a fleeting moment, she wished she wasn’t. The mental anguish was far worse than anything physical, and she couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard she tried to block it out, it pushed deeper, violating her very essence.
The field around her seemed to pulse with the same red glow that emanated from the cursed moon above. The crimson light bathed everything in its eerie hue, casting long shadows that twisted and writhed like specters on the horizon. The earth beneath her feet felt wrong, too - like it was shifting, moving, as if the ground itself was alive and mocking her agony.
Regna’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, the tall stalks of blood-red grass whispering against her skin as she struggled to catch her breath. She gasped, each inhale ragged and desperate, her chest heaving as if the very air was suffocating her. Her vision swam with flashes of red and black, the world around her flickering like a broken dream.
"What is this...?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her head.
"What have I... done?"
Her thoughts spiraled, fragmented, and frayed at the edges. The world was unraveling, and she was trapped in the center of it all, lost in a sea of pain and confusion. She could hear distant screams, haunting and disembodied, echoing through the field. Were they real, or were they just figments of her shattered mind? She couldn’t tell anymore. Everything blurred together: pain, fear, guilt - it all coalesced into a maelstrom that threatened to consume her whole.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped.
The screams faded into silence. The pain vanished as if it had never existed in the first place. Regna blinked, dazed and confused. She could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but the torment was gone. She knelt in the grass, her body trembling from the aftershocks, trying to make sense of the sudden shift.
She fell to her knees, her chest still heaving as she gasped for air, the silence almost too loud after the cacophony of agony she had endured. For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of her own labored breathing, her pulse thundering in her ears.
And then, a voice.
"Fear me not, human child," it rang out, clear and calm, yet with a power that sent a chill down her spine.
The voice was neither male nor female, neither harsh nor soft, it was something in between, something ancient and commanding.
Regna’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching in her throat as she looked up. The red moonlight continued to bathe the world in its unearthly glow, but now, standing before her in the field of red, was a figure. Tall, shrouded in shadow, its form indistinct yet undeniably present. Her heart skipped a beat, a new wave of fear rising within her, but she couldn’t look away. The figure seemed to radiate a presence that was both terrifying and comforting at the same time, like the embodiment of some primal force beyond her comprehension.
"Who... who are you?" Regna managed to whisper, her voice trembling as she stared into the darkness before her.
The figure remained still, its form flickering slightly in the crimson light, like a mirage or an echo of something long forgotten. And yet, despite the fear gnawing at her, Regna felt an odd sense of calm beginning to settle over her, as if the figure’s presence alone was enough to drive away the madness that had consumed her moments before.
The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity before the voice spoke again, its tone soothing yet laced with an underlying power that commanded her attention.
image [https://i.postimg.cc/ncSj9BRb/image-3.png]
"You have nothing to fear, human child," the figure repeated, and this time, Regna felt the weight of its words settle over her like a blanket, pushing away the lingering remnants of pain and confusion.
She swallowed hard, her mind still spinning, but the question remained. What had she done to deserve this? What was happening to her, to the world around her? And why... why did this voice feel so familiar?