The voice in the deep

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

Chapter Thirty-six: 36

The stairs wound down like a snake coiled around ancient bones. The deeper they went, the colder it became—not the sharp cold of night, but a heavy, wet chill that clung to their skin and crawled into their bones.

Draven led, his hand brushing the wall as they descended. It pulsed under his fingertips, like the heartbeat of something enormous sleeping beneath them.

Behind him, Elira whispered, "It feels like we're walking into the lungs of a god."

Vaela didn't answer. Her eyes were narrowed, her magic ready. She had felt it too.

At last, they reached the bottom.

A vast chamber opened before them, lit only by a pool of glowing silver water in the center. The walls were curved like the inside of a shell, smooth and strange. Runes shimmered across the ceiling, floating like drifting starlight.

The pool called to Draven. Not with sound, but with a deep hum inside his blood. He stepped forward.

The water rippled.

And then… it spoke.

"Child of the Moonblood… at last."

The voice was not loud. It was soft, smooth as silk, but filled with something ancient and powerful. It wasn't male or female—it was old, beyond such things.

Draven froze. "Who are you?"

"I am the first spark," it said. "I am the root from which your curse bloomed."

Vaela stepped beside him. "Is this... the source?"

The water pulsed in answer. "Before the curse, before the blood wars, I was bound to the Moon. A gift of magic and balance. But greed shattered that balance. Your ancestors sought to possess what should never be owned."

Draven looked into the pool. Shapes formed beneath the surface—memories, pieces of the past. He saw the Moonblood family kneeling before a moonstone altar. He saw a child born under a red moon, eyes glowing with wild power. He saw betrayal.

He saw the Queen again.

"She drank from the same source," Draven said slowly. "Didn't she?"

"She was meant to protect the gift," the voice said. "But she chose control. She twisted the Moonblood line. Broke the pact."

Vaela clenched her fists. "And now the curse falls on us all."

The voice went quiet for a moment. Then: "You carry both the curse… and the choice."

A small stone pedestal rose from the center of the pool, holding a glowing crystal shaped like a tear. It pulsed with silver light.

"This is the Heart of the Pact," the voice said. "Take it… and the Moon will speak through you."

Draven hesitated. He had faced beasts, shadows, curses—but this was something greater. Something that asked not for his strength, but for his soul.

He reached out… and touched it.

The moment his fingers closed around the crystal, the chamber vanished.

Draven stood in the middle of a silver field beneath a giant moon. Everything was silent. Time didn't move. He looked up.

A woman stood before him. Her skin was pale, her hair like moonlight, and her eyes were full of endless sorrow.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am the Moon," she answered.

Not a goddess. Not a queen. A force.

"You are the last of the true line," she said. "You have walked the path of blood and truth. The curse cannot be broken. But it can be turned."

"Turned?" Draven asked.

"To hope. Or to ruin," she said. "That is your burden. And your strength."

She stepped closer and placed her hand over his heart.

"Remember, Draven: not all monsters are born. Some are made. And some… are remade."

Light exploded.

He gasped, back in the chamber, still holding the crystal.

The pool had gone dark.

Vaela was by his side instantly. "What happened?"

"I saw her," he whispered. "The Moon herself. She gave me… a chance."

Elira stared at the empty pool. "What now?"

Draven stood, the Heart of the Pact pulsing in his hand. "Now… we use it. We stop running. We turn the curse into power."

Above them, far above, the red moon began to fade into silver.