The second night of the Blood Moon proved far more dangerous. The rivals were growing closer, each one starting to hunt for the perfect blood, and Bella was aware that every second counted. Tonight, she wouldn't just kill, she'd show her competitors the horror that came with defying her.
Her next target: a small family who lived on the outskirts of a quiet village, nestled within the rolling hills. Bella had spent hours carefully watching them from afar. When the sun dipped below the horizon, she crept into the house silently through an open window. Armed with knives in one hand and a porcelain doll in the other, she was a living nightmare slipping through the shadows.
The father was the first to fall, his throat sliced cleanly in a single motion. His body collapsed silently to the floor, never to draw another breath. But Bella didn't stop there—she wasn't satisfied with just one victim. She moved swiftly, waking the mother by smearing her bloody fingers across her face, leaving dark streaks across the pale skin.
"Wake up, it's your last night," Bella whispered coldly into her ear. With a single brutal yank, she dragged the woman from her bed, forcing her into the next room. As she struggled, Bella plunged a knife deep into her stomach, twisting until the woman's life force spilled out in torrents of red.
The children, hearing the commotion, began crying, but Bella only smirked. "Such a beautiful night for your little family," she murmured, her voice a sickening blend of sweetness and malice.
With ruthless efficiency, Bella dispatched each member of the household. She killed them slowly, savagely, savoring their screams as she tore through their flesh. She took particular pleasure in carving out their hearts, eating them while they still bled, her laugh echoing as she consumed their organs one by one.
When the massacre was complete, she bathed in their blood, letting it soak into her skin as she moved through the house. Blood pooled on the floor, staining the walls and furniture in an irreversible stain. Bella left a final sign—an eerie, twisted porcelain doll placed carefully in the center of the carnage. Before leaving, she filled another bottle with the blood of her victims, as though ensuring her progress on this unholy path.
As she vanished into the night, she whispered to herself, "So many still to come. So many more to claim for the Father."