The queen's shadow

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

Chapter Forty-two: 42

Arodan did not sleep.

As night cloaked the kingdom in a veil of silence, Queen Valdara stood at the edge of the high tower, her black gown fluttering like wings in the cold wind. Below, the city's lights flickered weakly—as if the people could sense the dark tides rising. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, let her thoughts drift—not to her throne, but to the ancient vow she made in the catacombs of her ancestors.

She had once been just a girl, barely old enough to speak the language of the old gods, but she had made the vow anyway. The vow to awaken Him—when the bloodline rose again.

And now, it had.

Moonblood had returned.

She turned from the window and stepped toward the stone coffin that had cracked open only hours ago. The air around it pulsed with old magic. From within, a figure moved—slowly, carefully, like a serpent unfurling after centuries of sleep.

He was tall, his skin pale as ash, his hair dark and long like trailing shadows. Eyes like burned silver blinked open, and his voice, when it came, was dust and thunder.

"Where is my kingdom?"

"You will have it soon," Valdara said, bowing her head. "Draven walks the land. He carries the curse again."

The figure—once a man, now something far more—smiled faintly.

"Moonblood returns… then so shall I."

Far from the palace, Draven stumbled away from the ritual site, still aching from the visions that tore through him. The Ashbound warriors walked in silence beside him. None dared speak. The pact had been sealed, but the truth now clawed at Draven's mind.

He had seen a face. A face that looked… like his own.

The memories weren't just glimpses. They were echoes—pieces of another life buried in his blood. A life where he wasn't a victim of the curse—but its beginning.

He clenched his fists. "I was him…"

Morgha walked up beside him, her face hard but not unkind. "Not him. Of him."

"What does that mean?" he snapped. "What am I?"

"You are the seed of his shadow… but also the flame that might burn it away."

They walked on until they reached the Ashbound outpost, a circle of low stone dwellings and fire pits set in a hollow beneath the cliffs. There, waiting for them, was Kael—the first friend Draven had made on this journey.

Kael ran up with his usual crooked smile. "You survived. That's a good start."

Draven couldn't return the grin. His body trembled slightly—not from fear, but from what he now knew.

"I saw him, Kael. The one they say started all of this."

Kael's smile faded. "Then you've seen more than most ever will."

Draven sank down by a fire and stared into the flames. He needed answers. Not just about the curse—but about himself.

Kael sat beside him and after a while asked, "What are we going to do next?"

Draven's voice was low but firm. "We find the tombs of the First Moonblood. The truth is there. I can feel it."

Morgha, listening nearby, gave a single nod.

"The path will be dangerous. The tombs are guarded by more than just traps. They are protected by what remains of the Moonborn, those who refused death."

"Let them try to stop me," Draven said. "I need to know who I really am."