Chapter 3 –Lily.
Chapter 3 –
Far from the blood-oaths and forgotten names Sylenya spoke of, in a city where vampires were just legends, a girl walked alone beneath lantern light.
Her name was Lily.
She had never heard of the crimson moon nor the supernatural world. She didn't know a ritual was coming. She only knew that her grandmother needed herbs, and the only place they grew… was past the edge of the woods.
Bellmare City was bursting with life tonight. Music, dancing, lanterns everywhere. The Festival of Light made the whole city feel magical. But Lily wasn't in the mood.
While everyone else wore colorful skirts and laughed in the town square, she was squeezing through a side path with a basket hanging off her arm. Her grandma needed feverroot — and of course it had to be tonight.
"We'll wait for you, promise!" Kira had said earlier.
Nessa had rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. She's going plant-hunting while we dance."
Lily didn't argue. She kind of liked the quiet anyway. The woods didn't ask questions. They just listened.
She had just stepped past the last lantern post when the laughter started.
Lily froze.
"Well, well.....look who we have here, Lira sneerd,her voice dripping with disdain. "The royal herb picker".
She recognized that voice,she knew it all too well.
Lily tightened her grip on the handle of the basket,but she kept walking.
Hey! we're talking to you. One of them called.
"Out here all alone again? Looking for weeds? Lira smirked.
Lily didn't answer.
She was used to this. Too used to it. But tonight, she just wanted to get the feverroot and go home.
She took one step forward—then someone grabbed her from behind.
"Let go!" she snapped, trying to pull away.
But rough hands yanked her shawl down, dragging it from her shoulder — and catching in her hair.
Her long, dark hair tumbled loose from its braid, catching the lantern glow like strands of ink spun with fire. Someone gave it a cruel tug.
"Ow—!"
The movement turned her halfway toward them, and for a moment, her face caught the full light.
Lily's features were delicate, almost too fine for someone who spent so much time in the woods. Her lashes were long and dark, brushing against pale skin. Her eyes — wide, clear, and a strange silvery hazel — flashed with defiance, even through the hurt.
She looked like someone out of an old painting. But the girls only saw what they wanted to see.
"What the... is that a tattoo?" Lira asked, voice sharp with disgust, eyes narrowing at her exposed shoulder. "Who gets inked with something like that?"
Another girl scoffed. "Looks like someone burned it into her. Ugh."
"What kind of freak walks around with something like that and doesn't cover it properly?"
Lily jerked away and yanked her shawl back into place, her cheeks burning.
"It's just a birthmark," she said quietly.
Lira rolled her eyes. "A stupid cursed one."
They turned, laughing again as they disappeared down the path toward the city.
Lily stood still for a moment, chest tight,breath shaky.
Then she turned to the woods,at least the trees didn't laugh.
With one final glance behind her,she stepped into the woods. The forest was darker than usual, no festival light here, just moonlight slipping through the tree branches.
Out here, there was only the sound of her own boots on damp leaves and the soft hush of wind moving through the high branches.
She followed the familiar trail to the stream. It didn't take long to spot the feverroot — pale and thin, like shy little fingers reaching out of the dirt. She crouched low, brushing the soil gently aside as she worked.
It helped, focusing on something small and steady.
She was tying the last bundle when she heard it — a soft crack.
Like a twig snapping under weight.
She froze.
Looked up.
The woods looked the same. Nothing moved. But the stillness felt different now. Thicker.
She straightened slowly, eyes scanning the tree line.
Nothing.
But her skin prickled anyway.
Without meaning to, she moved a little faster after that.
In no time,She stepped out of the woods and headed home.
To be continued...