Chapter 1: An Echo in the Dark
The sun bled out across the horizon, staining the clouds in hues of bruised purple and infected orange as it made its descent. My palm pressed against the rough bark of an elder pine, a futile anchor as I glanced back at Caelfall. The city didn’t just sleep; it held its breath. Behind the high wooden palisade, every shutter was barred, every chimney cold. The silence from within its walls was heavier than any noise. I could just make out the silhouette of a lone guard on the ramparts, a drawn sword glinting, while another atop the main gate stood as still as a gargoyle, bow in hand.
My gaze lifted. The Crimson Moon was already climbing high in the sky, trailed by its smaller, silver sibling. But my attention, as always, was drawn to the third. The Cursed Moon. It rose like a disease spreading across the twilight—a wound in the heavens, a scattering of obsidian shards orbiting a dead core. Shattered for shattered people. The thought was old and bitter.
A sudden, violent shriek—like shearing metal—tore through the forest, and my focus snapped back. Chitterwings. An entire flock exploded from the canopy, their iridescent feathers catching the last of the light. Their panicked flight was punctuated by a piercing yelp from the shadows below, a sound cut short with a wet, final snap. A grim smile touched my lips. One down.
“They’re early,” I whispered to the trees, the words snatched away by the wind. “The Cursed Moon hasn’t even fully risen.”
Slinging my bow from my shoulder, I let its familiar weight settle in my hand. The simple act calmed the tremor in my fingers. I nocked an arrow, the motion as natural as breathing, and it melted deeper into the shadows of the treeline. I slowed my breathing until the mist of it barely clouded the air. I listened. Not with my ears, but with my entire body, feeling for the vibrations in the earth.
They were coming.
A rustle of leaves, a heavy footfall. A patch of darkness detached itself from the surrounding gloom. I was already aimed, the bowstring taut, the fletching resting against my cheek. The world narrowed to the space between my eye, the arrowhead, and the target.
A howl ripped through the night, and the creature burst from the shadows. Its coat was a void, a patch of starless night stretched over a frame of corded muscle and raw power. It was the size of a warhorse, and the only things visible were its eyes—two points of malevolent, green fire. A Crescent Moon Walker.
I held my breath, became the stillness of the forest, and released.
The arrow flew in a near-silent hiss, striking the creature’s broadside with a sickening thump of wood piercing flesh and bone. It let out a pained, guttural roar but didn’t stop. I was already drawing my second arrow before the first had found its home. A beast this large wouldn’t fall to a simple body shot. This time, I aimed for the fire.
The second arrow slammed into its eye socket. The green light sputtered and died. The creature stumbled, its massive form crashing to the forest floor with a shuddering gasp.
Before its body had settled, three more erupted from the woods, their heavy paws thudding against the damp earth in a terrifying, synchronized rhythm. They were fanned out, a hunting party. I held my aim, tracking the lead one. One… two… three paces—and the forest floor opened its maw and swallowed them whole. Their howls were guillotined by the sudden silence as the pitfall I’d dug claimed them.
I needed to move. Deeper.
Slinging my bow, I leaped to the nearest branch, my movements fluid and silent as I scaled the canopy. I paused, glancing back at the lightless silhouette of Caelfall. Not one gets through. The thought was a hope, a promise, a curse of its own.
I settled on a thick branch overlooking the path of destruction, my eyes scanning the darkness. The next Walker that emerged was different. It didn’t rush. It flowed from the shadows with a terrifying deliberation, its body held low in a hunter’s crouch. This one was larger than the others, its muscles coiling and uncoiling with lethal grace. An alpha.
Suddenly, its head snapped up. There was no searching, no sniffing the air. Its glowing eyes pierced the shadows and locked directly onto mine. The air crackled. It knew.
A low growl rumbled from its chest, a sound that vibrated through the wood of my perch. Then it launched itself at the tree. Massive claws, thick as daggers, gouged deep furrows in the bark as it tried to climb. I had my bow out in an instant, an arrow nocked and drawn before it had scaled ten feet. The shot was perfect, aimed for its eye.
Instead of falling, the creature flinched. A flicker of irritation crossed its burning gaze, and its climb became more furious. A cold dread, sharp and sudden, pierced my confidence.
I drew again, shifting my target. Between the ribs, where the heart should be. I released. The arrow found its mark. The beast let out a sharp yelp of pain and stumbled back a single, crucial step.
There was no time to draw, no time to aim. There was only the fall. With another arrow clutched in my fist, I dropped from the branch.
I landed hard on its back, the impact driving the air from my lungs. I used the momentum, plunging the arrow deep between its shoulder blades. The sickening warmth of its blood flooded my hand. The Crescent Moon Walker became a hurricane of muscle and claw, bucking and thrashing, trying to tear me from its back. I slung my bow aside, gripped the arrow shaft with both hands, and squeezed my legs tight around its heaving body. I roared with the effort, driving the arrowhead deeper with every ounce of my strength.
The beast’s massive body gave a final, violent shudder. It let out a choked gasp—a tearing sound that seemed to rip the air itself—and began to topple. I shoved myself away, scrambling for distance as its immense weight crashed to the ground.
I landed in a crouch, my breath ragged, my body screaming. My eyes darted through the darkness, searching. In the distance, the sharp snap of another trap echoed through the woods.
High ground. Now.
I scrambled up the nearest tree, hauling myself into the relative safety of the canopy. The eerie quiet returned, more unsettling now than the howls. Slowly, cautiously, the Chitterwings began to drift back to their perches, their long, scaled bodies and iridescent feathers soaking in the ghostly moonlight. The silence was absolute. The usual hum of insects, the rustle of night creatures—all of it was gone. The air itself felt frozen.
A sudden, unnatural chill washed over me, raising the hair on my arms. It was followed by a screech from above, a sound that didn’t just enter my ears but vibrated deep in my bones.
My head snapped up. Every instinct I had screamed wrong.
Something blotted out the moons. A living mountain of scale and shadow, descending from the heavens.
A dragon.
Its roar ripped through the world and through me. I clapped my hands over my ears as my balance abandoned me. My foot slipped on the slick bark. The world became a vertigo-inducing smear of green and black. As I fell backwards, my eyes were locked on the sky. The dragon passed overhead, its throat glowing like a forge, ready to unleash a torrent of fire. Branches whipped at my face, tearing at my skin like claws, but I felt nothing.
A final, jarring thud stole the breath from my lungs as I plunged into darkness.
I lay on my side, gasping, every muscle a unique point of agony. It was pitch black, the only sound the steady drip, drip, drip of water nearby. Slowly, painfully, I rolled onto my back, the smell of damp earth and rot filling my senses. Far above, framed by a halo of gnarled roots, was a jagged wound in the earth. And through it, the Cursed Moon stared back at me, its shattered pieces passing judgment in a dead, silent sky.
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- Free Chapter 1: An Echo in the Dark 10 hours ago
Ofhoffman
❤️❤️❤️❤️ Gabe me chills!
!