The rain hadn't stopped for three days.
In the rotting slums of Ebonreach, the world always looked like it was mourning something. Streets were flooded with muddy water, rats danced through the puddles, and the thick stench of smoke and old metal clung to every breath. Kael Valen stood under a cracked awning, his black hoodie soaked through, watching the distant skyline where the richer towers stabbed into the clouds like ivory fangs.
He tightened his grip on the paper bag in his hand—a half-loaf of bread, stolen just an hour ago. His stomach growled again, louder this time. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, and even then, it was just stale soup from the shelter. Still, this wasn't the worst day. Not yet.
Kael turned the corner into the alley behind the scrapyard where he slept. His footsteps echoed faintly, water splashing under his worn-out boots. Most kids his age had bedrooms, families, warm meals. Kael had rusted pipes, moldy walls, and the voices of dead memories.
He stepped into the abandoned bus where he'd made his "home." A torn blanket. A broken lantern. A cracked mirror that showed his pale, sharp features—skin too white, eyes too grey, hair too dark. People said he looked strange. Some called him cursed.
He took a bite of the bread and sat down, letting the silence settle around him.
Then something shifted.
The air… felt wrong.
Heavy. Cold. Like a shadow had passed over his very soul.
He looked up.
There, resting neatly on the seat across from him, was an envelope. Blood-red. Wax-sealed with an unfamiliar crest—a crescent moon encircled by thorns.
Kael hadn't heard a sound. No footsteps. No creak of the door. Nothing.
He stared at it for a long moment, his heartbeat slow but heavy. Then, cautiously, he reached out and picked it up.
The paper was smooth, strangely warm to the touch. As he cracked the seal and unfolded the letter, his eyes widened.
---
Dear Kael Valen,
You have been chosen.
The Crimson Moon Academy invites you to join our prestigious institution for the supernatural elite. Your blood has spoken. Your name echoes through ancient halls.
Term begins on the next full moon. Transportation shall arrive precisely at midnight. Prepare nothing. Bring no one. This letter is your only key.
Welcome home.
—Headmaster E. Varn
---
Kael dropped the letter as if it had burned him.
"What the hell is this?"
He stood up, backing away from it, his breath catching in his throat. Supernatural? Crimson Moon? His blood?
No. This had to be a mistake. Some prank. Some twisted joke.
But deep down, something stirred.
A memory. A nightmare.
Blood on marble floors. A woman screaming his name. A shadowed figure watching as flames consumed everything around him.
He shook his head violently. That wasn't real. That was just one of the visions he kept locked away. Hallucinations. Dreams that clung to him since childhood.
And yet, the letter felt real. Too real.
Kael didn't sleep that night. He sat by the window, staring at the sky, waiting for nothing—and everything.
---
Midnight came.
The sky was still crying. But the wind… it changed.
It turned cold. Bitter. Almost sharp.
And then he heard it.
Wheels. Hooves. A carriage?
Kael blinked and stepped outside.
Standing at the edge of the alley was a long black carriage, drawn by two enormous midnight horses with glowing red eyes. The driver wore a cloak that obscured his face. The door opened without a word.
Kael stood frozen. Every instinct screamed at him to run.
But a deeper voice—something old, something buried—whispered:
"Go."
He stepped forward.
As he entered the carriage, the door shut behind him. Instantly, the world outside vanished. Darkness swallowed the windows. Silence swallowed the sound.
Only a faint red glow illuminated the inside of the carriage. Velvet seats. Ancient symbols carved into the wood. A glass panel revealed rows of books and strange vials glowing with silver mist.
The ride felt like eternity.
Or maybe seconds.
Time didn't seem to move in that place.
And then, light.
The door opened again.
Kael stepped out into a new world.
---
The carriage had brought him to a massive iron gate towering over black stone walls covered in red ivy. Beyond it lay a landscape pulled from gothic dreams—dark towers, floating candles, staircases that twisted into the clouds, and blood-colored moonlight bathing it all in eerie beauty.
A black iron sign hung from the gate, creaking in the wind:
Crimson Moon Academy
Kael stared.
He felt like he shouldn't be here. Like he was trespassing in a place meant for kings and monsters. But the gate opened with a soft groan, welcoming him like a long-lost child.
Torchlights flickered to life as he walked through.
A tall woman in silver armor waited at the courtyard, her skin porcelain pale, her hair silver like starlight.
"Kael Valen?" she asked.
"…Yes."
"Follow me."
She turned without another word. Kael followed, passing statues of beasts with wings and horns, stained glass windows depicting ancient battles between vampires, werewolves, and something else. Something… darker.
They entered the main hall.
It was enormous—long tables lined with red banners, chandeliers made of bone and crystal, portraits whose eyes followed him as he walked.
Other students were arriving too.
Some looked human.
Most didn't.
He saw a boy with blue flames for hair. A girl with bat wings folded neatly behind her back. A group of twins with blood-red eyes and silver fangs.
They all stared at him.
Some with curiosity.
Some with disgust.
He heard a whisper: "Is he… human?"
Another: "Why would he get an invitation?"
He lowered his gaze and walked faster.
---
They reached a dark marble door at the end of a spiral staircase.
The armored woman knocked once, then stepped aside.
"Enter. The Headmaster awaits."
Kael opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was circular, lined with books that reached the ceiling. A massive crimson banner with the same crescent-thorn sigil hung above a fireplace. At the desk sat a tall man with a black cane and blood-red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
He didn't look old. But he didn't look young either.
Ageless.
"Kael," he said. His voice was smooth, but there was something beneath it. Something ancient.
"I… don't understand what I'm doing here," Kael said quietly.
The man smiled. "That's because you've forgotten who you are."
Kael frowned.
"You've been asleep for a long time," the man continued. "But blood never forgets. And yours… is older than you know."
Kael opened his mouth to speak, but the Headmaster raised a hand.
"Tonight, rest. Tomorrow, you begin classes. There is much to learn—and much to survive."
He stood up and walked closer.
"There are those who will hate you. Those who will try to kill you. Because of what you are."
"…And what am I?" Kael asked, barely above a whisper.
The Headmaster leaned down, his eyes burning brighter.
"You, Kael Valen, are the last living heir of the Crimson Moon bloodline."
Kael's blood froze.
"No," he whispered. "They died… a hundred years ago."
The Headmaster smiled.
"Not all of them."
---
✦ TO BE CONTINUED ✦