Chapter 60 – When the Blood Moon Rises
Ashen Aras stood at the edge of the eastern cliffs, eyes narrowed against the crimson haze painting the horizon. The moon had turned blood-red two nights ago, and with its change came whispers. Whispers in the wind, in the leaves, even in the silence. The kind of whispers that scratched the soul rather than the ears.
"You feel it too," Kaelis said from behind, his voice barely above a murmur. The usual cocky lilt was gone. In its place: a low tension that clung to his every word like dew to morning grass.
Ashen nodded. He didn't need to reply. The pressure hanging over the eastern ranges was unmistakable—thick, ancient, hungry. And it called to him. Or perhaps, more accurately, it called to what now slumbered inside him.
Revyn knelt near the base of a tree, inspecting the distorted corpse of a silver-horned deer. Its eyes were gouged out, but there were no predators around. Its spiritual energy was drained entirely—a husk without a single mark.
"Third one this morning," he muttered, his fingers brushing over the dry fur. "All near the perimeter of the Bloodmoon Temple."
"And the villagers?" Ashen asked.
"Gone. Evacuated by the Cultivator Guild a day ago. But the locals said something about 'the Eye returning to claim the old god.'"
Ashen exchanged a look with Kaelis. This wasn't ordinary folklore. These lands had long been rumored to house an ancient ruin sealed beneath the Bloodmoon Temple. A battlefield, some said. A prison, whispered others.
And Ashen's dreams had begun to echo those same words.
---
They moved silently, descending into the forest path that led to the shattered temple.
The path had been overtaken by nature. Vines as thick as a man's leg coiled across the old stone walkway. The air grew colder, heavy with damp moss and the coppery tang of old blood. Every step closer to the ruins pressed against Ashen's skin like invisible fingers testing his resolve.
"Here." Kaelis halted. He gestured toward the entrance—or what was left of it.
The Bloodmoon Temple loomed before them, half-swallowed by the earth. Its once-ivory columns were cracked, twisted, and covered in red glyphs that pulsed faintly beneath the moonlight. The central dome had collapsed, exposing the dark sanctum within.
As they stepped inside, the pressure intensified. Not in weight, but in something else. Something deeper.
Something watching.
Revyn held up a crystal that shimmered in the dark. "This is an echo crystal. It'll record any anomalous spiritual fluctuations. Keep your eyes open."
Ashen moved toward the central altar. It was small, more like a dais carved from obsidian stone. But the moment he approached, his vision blurred.
He was no longer in the temple.
For a heartbeat, the world shifted. Flames. Screams. Crimson skies filled with spiraling dragons and ships that tore across the stars. A giant chained beast roared beneath a shattered moon.
Then—nothing.
He staggered back.
Kaelis caught him. "You alright?"
Ashen nodded slowly, breathing hard. "I saw... I don't know. But something bled into this place. A memory. A war. Something not of Earth."
Revyn studied the altar. "The glyphs are in a dead language. But this symbol... it's similar to one found in the old Furnace Gate ruins. The same place you encountered the Guardian."
"Another prison?" Kaelis guessed.
"Or a beacon," Ashen said. "Calling something back."
As he spoke, the glyphs pulsed brighter.
Suddenly, a blast of force knocked all three of them back.
From the altar, a red mist began to rise, coalescing into a shape—vague, shifting. Like a man made of smoke and agony. No eyes, only a single sigil burned across its forehead: a spiral sun with claws.
It turned to Ashen.
"He… returns..."
The voice was not heard but felt. Like a scream buried in the marrow.
"The Dragon who stole time… His breath lingers still. The Grave will open. And you... shall be its key."
The specter lunged.
Ashen raised his hand instinctively, channeling spiritual energy—but the mark on his chest flared to life. A shadow leapt from him. A distorted version of himself. The clone.
It intercepted the specter, grabbing it by the throat. The two writhed, locked in a war of essence.
But the clone buckled. It let out a garbled roar—more beast than man—and disintegrated. The specter flinched, now unstable, before dissipating into the altar with a shudder.
The glyphs dimmed.
Silence returned.
Ashen collapsed to his knees, heart hammering. Kaelis and Revyn rushed to his side.
"You summoned a clone," Kaelis said, wide-eyed. "Without activating the altar. You split your soul by instinct."
Ashen looked at his hands. They were trembling. Not from fear. From recognition.
The breath of the Dragon. The vision. The time fragment.
Something was awakening beneath the Bloodmoon Temple.
And he was now its chosen trigger.
---
Later that night, the three sat beside a fire outside the temple. Revyn prepared a spiritual ward, encircling their camp with glowing runes to mask their presence.
Kaelis tossed a twig into the flames. "You realize what this means? That altar isn't just another ruin. It's tied to something bigger. To the entity that gave you the clone. Maybe even to that giant dragon you keep dreaming about."
"It called me the 'key'," Ashen murmured. "And spoke of a grave that will open. What grave? And why now?"
Revyn stirred the fire. "The Bloodmoon appears once every five centuries. But this is the first time in history it hasn't passed within a day. It's been hanging in the sky for three nights. Something is delaying its cycle."
"Or something's holding it in place," Kaelis added.
Ashen clenched his fists. He could feel it. The world was shifting beneath their feet. Earth wasn't just a cradle for cultivators.
It was a vault.
And someone had started to turn the key.
---
In the far distance, hidden in the cracks of the mountainous pass, a pair of eyes watched from beneath a crimson hood.
The figure lowered a crystal communicator to their lips.
"He has found the altar."
A voice crackled on the other end. "And the clone?"
"Confirmed. He used it in defense. It reacted to the specter."
"Good. Continue observing. Do not engage. The Elder will arrive within three days. The Bloodmoon shall witness his ascension."
The hooded figure clicked the device off and vanished into the night.
---
Back at the fire, Ashen stared into the flames.
"The Grave will open. And you shall be its key."
A weight had settled on his shoulders. He didn't ask for it. Didn't seek it.
But now, whatever slumbered beneath this land had begun to wake.
And in its dream, it saw him.
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