The Secret Legacy of the Blood Moon

Vampires—creatures of both terror and beauty—subsist by feeding on the blood of humans. Despite their hunger, they mirror human life in many ways. They experience love, hate, betrayal, and even the miracle of birth—though on very different terms.

Unlike humans, who carry a child for nine months, vampires endure a full twelve lunar cycles—a year—known among them as The Red Year. In the ancient tongue of the elders, it is whispered as Erythro's Éthos—the time when a mother burns for her child's life.

During this sacred and perilous year, milestones shape the fate of both mother and unborn child:

Three months ("First Craving"): Blood-tasting dreams invade the mother's sleep, signaling the child's awakening hunger.

Six months ("Half-Moon Mark"): A faint crescent-shaped birthmark appears on the unborn's skin, glimmering under the pale light.

Nine months ("Blood Moon's Eve"): The mother's latent powers surge wildly—rendering her nearly invulnerable, a force no mortal dares challenge.

Twelve months ("True Birth"): Under the shrouded glow of the next Blood Moon, the child is born, marked by destiny.

In the vampire calendar, the Blood Moon graces the sky twice during each Red Year: October 13th and December 13th—days revered with festivals of ancient blood rites and shadowed revelry. Vampires call these The First Blood Moon and The Second Blood Moon Celebrations.

Their lunar cycle, unlike humankind's, runs deeper and more closely tied to cosmic tides. Vampires are immortal beings—staggeringly beautiful, frighteningly powerful. Their pale skin shines like silvered moonlight, cold to the touch. Their hearts do not beat, yet their bodies operate with an eerie, predatory perfection.

Their strength shatters bones, their speed defies sight, and their wounds heal before mortal eyes can blink.

Yet even gods have weaknesses:

Sunlight—their ancient nemesis—burns their flesh and saps their might.

Silver—a venom that poisons their blood.

Holy relics—blessed objects that drive them into retreat.

And finally, the oldest death: a stake through the heart, an end only few dare to attempt.

To walk beneath the hated sun, vampires rely on the Ring of Solvryn, forged from the sacred Nightstone—a black jewel said to have fallen from the heavens when the first Blood Moon wept for the damned. Only a true elder may craft such a ring, binding enchantments as old as darkness itself.

Their society, known as Avalone, weaves an intricate tapestry of bloodlines, power, and ancient laws. At its pinnacle reigns the Vampire God, a being of unimaginable strength and mystery. Beneath him serve the Queens and their royal heirs, guarded fiercely by the Elder Council—immortals who have walked through countless centuries.

Below them reside the Noble Houses—Vampiric Lords and Ladies, each ruling vast territories with armies of their own. Further still, the Turned—lesser vampires, bound in loyalty or lost to the hunger. And then there are the Dhampiris—half-bloods, born of mortal and vampire unions, condemned to walk between two worlds, often as assassins, spies, and soldiers for hire.

Among their many sacred rituals, few are as revered as the Blood Oath—an unbreakable bond between souls, forged by the sharing of blood. And none are as feared as the ceremonies of The Red Year, where rare pregnancies among vampire queens are celebrated with powerful enchantments to shield mother and child.

Every vampire bears the Crescent Mark—a silvery scar upon their body, a brand of their true nature. Humans born under the Blood Moon are also cursed—or blessed—with this mark. Prophecies foretell that a woman born under the First Blood Moon must wed the Vampire God himself. She is said to be the Key, the Flame, the Strength that binds, destined to empower the Vampire God beyond the reach of death itself.

Some kingdoms dread vampires. Others worship them as gods walking among men.

Secret pacts are woven in the shadows—human royals trading sons and daughters, gold and secrets, for protection or favor. But even these hidden alliances are fragile, for if the world were ever to glimpse the true power lying beneath their feet, kingdoms would fall into ruin.

And now, as the next Blood Moon draws near, the winds whisper again.

Old prophecies stir.

Forgotten betrayals rise.

And somewhere, a girl with the Crescent Mark dreams of things she cannot yet understand.

This time, the past will not stay buried. This time, the blood of gods will spill.