Midnight’s Embrace: The Curse of the Crimson Moon

The world was still quiet when I opened my eyes.

I was lying flat on the icy pavement, my body half-buried in snow, the streetlight above me flickering faintly like it, too, was struggling to stay awake. My hoodie was soaked — from melting snow, and… blood.

I didn't move right away. I just stared up at the dark sky, unsure if I had woken from a dream or into one. My breath fogged the air, and the snowflakes that landed on my eyelashes melted into warm blinks.

Then came the pain.

A sharp, pulsing throb on the side of my neck.

I touched it slowly, fingers trembling.

Two puncture wounds.

Small. Precise.

And real.

> "It wasn't a dream…"

I sat up fast. The world spun. My heart hammered inside my ribs, confused and frightened and... strangely excited. My body felt weak, drained. But my senses?

Sharper. Louder.

I could hear the ticking of a street clock three blocks away. I could feel the cold more clearly. Even the moon above seemed brighter, closer somehow.

> "What… did she do to me?"

---

Memories of the night rushed in.

The sudden presence behind me.

The softness of her voice.

Her eyes—red like dying stars.

The bite—piercing, intimate, terrifying.

Her warmth… and then her absence.

I clenched my fists.

I didn't know her name. I didn't even know if she was real.

But something about her stayed inside me.

---

I stumbled home just before dawn, avoiding the few street sweepers and workers starting their day. I was lucky no one saw the blood on my neck. Or the tears dried onto my cheeks.

I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sleep didn't come.

Instead, I replayed every second.

Over and over.

---

### Somewhere beneath the city…

She sat under a shattered cathedral roof, knees to chest, her cloak wet with melted snow.

The taste of his blood still lingered on her lips.

> "I'm such a fool…"

She hadn't fed in years. Not like that.

She had been careful—avoiding cities, staying to the shadows, living on the bare minimum. But last night… she lost control.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

She wasn't supposed to get close.

But something about his presence shook her.

He didn't scream. He didn't fight.

He looked at her like… like she was human.

---

### Back to me…

The next evening, I walked again.

I didn't know why. Maybe I hoped to see her again. Maybe I wanted answers.

Or maybe, I just wanted to know if I was losing my mind.

The streets were quieter than usual. Snow crunched under my steps. I wandered back to the spot where it happened.

Same bench. Same flickering light.

But she wasn't there.

> "Of course she's not. Idiot."

I sat down anyway.

I stared at the spot where her footsteps had vanished.

It was then I noticed… something in my jacket pocket.

A torn ribbon.

Deep violet, like the sky just before nightfall. Slightly stained with blood.

It smelled faintly of roses and frost.

She had left it… with me?

---

I stared at that ribbon for a long time.

And then, for the first time in years…

I smiled.

Not because I was happy.

But because I finally felt something.