The valley of whispering bones

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

Chapter Thirty-four: 34

The valley below the cliffs was shrouded in a heavy fog that clung to the earth like a living thing. Every step Draven took made the ground groan softly beneath his boots, as if the land itself resented his presence. Shadows slithered through the mist, vanishing before his eyes could fully catch them. It felt like the air whispered—soft, broken voices rising from the earth like ghosts of the forgotten.

Vaela moved beside him, her eyes narrowed, her staff glowing faintly to keep the spirits at bay. "This place remembers," she whispered. "It's one of the oldest battlefields of the Arodan wars. Thousands died here. Most without names."

Draven looked over at Elira, who had remained quiet since they left the Temple of Echoes. She walked slightly behind, her hands clasped tight and her eyes distant.

"She blames herself," Vaela murmured. "For Callen."

Draven nodded. "We all do."

The red moon still hung in the sky above, its light painting everything in crimson. In its glow, the valley seemed alive—bones half-buried in the earth, armor rusted and broken, old banners fluttering like dying breath. Draven felt something tugging at his chest, a slow ache that worsened the farther they walked.

"It's the Crown," Vaela said. "It feeds on pain, but also remembers the past. This place is full of it."

Suddenly, Elira stopped. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

They all paused. Then, from within the mist, came the sound of singing—childlike voices, soft and eerie, humming a melody older than time. It chilled their blood.

Vaela's face went pale. "Don't listen. They're bone-echoes. Lost souls. If you listen too long, you'll join them."

They quickened their pace, the singing growing fainter behind them. But the fog didn't lift. Instead, the air turned colder, and the path ahead split in two. One road led into a forest of skeletal trees, their branches twisted like claws. The other dipped into a hollow filled with black water that barely reflected the moon.

"Which way?" Elira asked.

Before Vaela could answer, Draven pointed toward the forest. "The Crown is pulling me that way."

They entered the dead woods, their steps muffled by the thick, ash-like soil. No birds called. No wind blew. And every tree they passed looked like it had once been a person screaming.

Then a branch snapped.

They froze.

From behind a crooked tree, a figure stepped out. A man—tall, cloaked, his face hidden beneath a hood. But his eyes glowed like coals. Around his neck hung a chain of small bones. His voice was calm, yet cruel.

"You walk with the Moonblood."

Draven stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"I am called Brask. Once a Watcher of Arodan. Now… a collector of broken oaths."

"What do you want?" Vaela asked, tightening her grip on her staff.

Brask's smile was thin. "To offer a warning. The Queen knows where you are. She sent me to watch, not to kill."

"Why not kill?" Elira challenged.

"Because she wants you to see. She wants Draven to feel the cost of defiance. You think you're carrying hope? That crown will kill more than it saves."

Brask reached out, slowly. "Give it to me. Let it end here."

Draven felt his anger rise, steady and hot. "No."

Brask's smile faded. "Then walk on, child of the moon. But know this—the path ahead will bleed."

And just like that, he vanished into the mist, leaving behind a scent of rot and old fire.

They said nothing for a long while, each lost in thought. Then Vaela spoke, softly. "He's right. The Queen will make this personal."

Draven stared down at the crown glowing faintly in his hands. "Let her. I'll carry the pain. All of it."

They emerged from the woods into a clearing where the fog finally began to lift. Far ahead, across a broken river and crumbling stone, stood a tower—twisted, leaning like it had grown from the earth itself. Black vines clung to its surface, and a red banner flew at the top.

"The Watcher's Spire," Vaela whispered. "An old fortress. If we're to find the truth about the Moonblood line… it's there."

Draven nodded. "Then that's where we go."

And from the shadows behind them, unseen, a raven with silver eyes took flight—heading straight toward Arodan.