Nicolas stood tall on his newly raised earth wall, the cold night air brushing against his face as he watched the creatures retreat back into the dark forest. His heart pounded in his chest, but it was no longer from fear. The blood moon had come and gone, and with it, the wave of monsters that had threatened Vennet village. They were fleeing now, their misshapen bodies disappearing into the thick shadows of the trees. Nicolas's earth wall had held, protecting the village from the horrors that the blood moon unleashed.
The moonlight illuminated his tired, dirt-smeared face as he let out a long, relieved breath. His hands still ached from the immense effort it had taken to erect the barrier, but it had been worth it. The monsters, with their clawed limbs and glowing eyes, had been unable to breach his wall. For the first time in many cycles, the village hadn't faced devastation. No homes had burned, no people had been lost.
He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he glanced back toward the village. The people were beginning to emerge from their homes, their cautious steps turning into joyful cheers. The air was filled with relief and celebration. Children ran through the streets, laughing and playing as though they hadn't just lived through a night of terror. Families hugged, their faces bright with gratitude, and even the elders, who had seen countless blood moons, couldn't suppress their smiles.
The earth wall had given them hope. It had kept the darkness at bay.
Nicolas allowed himself a moment to savor the feeling, standing atop the wall and looking out into the night. His body ached, but it was a good ache—the kind that came from hard work well done. He knew, though, that the blood moon would return, and with it, more dangers. But for now, they were safe.
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Ten kilometers away from the joy and relief of Vennet village, deep within the heart of the Gloamwood Forest, something far more sinister was taking place. The forest, with its towering ancient trees and twisted undergrowth, was a dark and forbidding place, even in daylight. At night, under the blood moon's influence, it was a realm of shadows and nightmares.
Beneath the forest floor, hidden away in an underground cave, a man's desperate screams echoed off the damp, cold stone walls.
Inside the cave, two women stood over a middle-aged man who was bound tightly with rough ropes. The man struggled violently, his face contorted in fear and rage, but the ropes held firm. He was a large man, his body strong and muscled from years of labor, but even his strength couldn't save him now.
The first woman was in her early forties, her face sharp and lined with age. Her long, matted brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders, streaked with gray. Her eyes were narrow and cruel, the kind of eyes that had seen many terrible things and caused even more. She wore a tattered black robe that clung to her thin frame, and her lips were twisted into a sickening grin as she watched the man's futile attempts to escape.
Beside her stood a younger woman, perhaps in her thirties, with jet-black hair pulled back into a severe braid. Her features were more refined, almost elegant, but her eyes were just as cold and calculating. She wore a similar robe, though hers was newer, less worn by time. Her expression was one of quiet concentration as she muttered something under her breath, a chant in a language older than the forest itself.
The bound man thrashed against his restraints, his voice raw from shouting. "You damn witches! Let me go! I swear I'll kill you both!" His voice was hoarse, his throat sore, but his eyes burned with desperation and fury.
The older woman ignored him, her focus entirely on the ritual she was performing. She too muttered under her breath, her voice low and full of malice, words twisted and ancient. Her hands hovered over the man's head as she continued her chant, her fingers twitching in strange, unnatural movements.
The man's struggles intensified. His muscles bulged as he pulled at the ropes, his face red with exertion. "You'll pay for this!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the cave walls. But it was no use. The ropes didn't give, and the women didn't flinch.
As the chanting reached its peak, the younger woman stepped forward, a long, curved knife gleaming in her hand. The blade caught the dim light of the cave, casting an eerie glow across the stone floor. Her expression remained calm, her eyes devoid of any emotion as she approached the man.
The bound man's eyes widened in terror as the realization of his fate began to sink in. "No… no, please…" he begged now, his voice trembling. "Don't do this. Please."
But the witches remained silent, their chants now complete. The younger woman knelt beside him, her cold, steady hands gripping his chin and tilting his head back, exposing his throat. His heart raced, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Please…" His final plea was a whisper, barely audible above the sound of his pounding heart.
Without a word, the younger witch pressed the blade to his throat and sliced cleanly across. The man's body jerked violently, his eyes wide in shock as blood poured from the wound. The witches watched with cold detachment as the life drained from him, his struggles slowing until, finally, his body went limp.
The cave was deathly silent. Only the soft drip of blood hitting the stone floor broke the stillness.
The older woman let out a slow breath, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "It is done," she said, her voice low and gravelly.
" How much longer, we have to stay in this damn forest" the younger woman asked while wipping the blood from the blade.
" Kekeke..... Don't rush . It's not far from our ultimate goal."