Midnight Moon (The Bleeding Crown Book 1)

Chapter 2 - Blood and Whispers

A shadowed figure advanced through the night. The grass bent under their boots, but their steps made no sound as they neared the summit of the rise.

A long, hooded jacket disguised their silhouette, a cinch at the waist the only hint of human form. Its hem brushed the earth as the figure crouched, its upturned collar meeting the scarf concealing their lower face. Moonlight silvered dark cropped hair and reflected in darting, shining eyes.

Tia's fingers itched to take hold of her sword. She peered over the ridge and her heartbeat quickened at the sight of the gathering below.

Hooded figures slowly circled a large stone, an intangible breeze swirling their robes and making the symbols sewn into the fabric dance. Unearthly chanting rose into the night air, mingling with smoke from the torches beside the central stone.

Unease gripped Tia. She recognised those robes, knew this was no amateur cult singing nonsense words. She had only lived a fraction of her life in the Lands, the so-called civilised regions of the continent, but she knew the ceremonial outfits of the Order of Kysuk.

A waning organisation originally founded to teach magic, any sword for hire was unlucky to hear their name whispered in a contract. The few encounters Tia had experienced with their members had not been pleasant or peaceful, and she did not seek conflict with them readily.

However, spotting a large gathering of disciples in ceremonial garb piqued her curiosity and her suspicion. The Order rarely ventured outside their secretive base, let alone in such numbers. Perhaps against her better judgement, she had followed them.

The chanting from the group below grew louder, and as one they threw their arms into the air, their hands glowing purple. A ring of fire roared to life around them, towering over their heads and licking harmlessly at their backs. Tia squinted through the haze caused by the heat, picking out movement on the other side of the circle.

A tall figure strode through the fire, unflinching, as they stepped from the inferno. Gold embellishments around the hem of their crimson robes seemed to flicker with each step.

They proceeded towards the centre and began to move their hands over the stone's surface. The rock turned a deep black, then glowed bright white before fading back to its natural bluish grey. The figure threw their arms in the air, and the chanting halted.

"Bring the vessel," they commanded, the woman's voice booming.

Two more figures entered the circle carrying something between them, the fire curling around their silhouettes. When they laid their burden on the stone, Tia recoiled as she realised it was a young woman. Her fine dress was muddied, her fair hair strewn in tangles around her face, and her body limp against the stone.

The woman in the gold-embellished robes took a dagger from beneath her cloak and held it above the unconscious woman, the fire glinting off its blade. With two swift flicks, she cut gashes in the young woman's palms, which she turned to press onto the stone as they swelled with blood. The trickle from the wounds snaked its way through grooves carved into the stone, channelled towards vials on the ground.

An expectant silence hung over the area as the leader of the ceremony stepped back, the very shadows quivering in anticipation. The young woman gave a sudden, drawn-out scream that bounced around the gathering. Her body writhed as though in excruciating pain, and the bloody channels in the stone filled with an unearthly yellow light.

Tia's twinge of pity was quickly overtaken by anger. She made to stand, to intervene, to put a stop to this senseless suffering, but the young woman's contortions and cries froze as abruptly as they had begun. Her face snapped to the sky and her hair fell back to reveal the same yellow glow filling her eyes, casting its light across her pale face.