Page 23 of The Blood Moon Hunt

“Stay back!” I shout, my voice breaking. “Please, just stay back!”

The men step into the house, their movements deliberate and precise. One of them pulls out a glowing sigil, the symbols carved into it pulsating with a sinister light. The sight of it sends a sharp, cold fear through me.

“Damien Blackwood,” the leader intones, his voice filled with authority. “You cannot run from this. Your power is too great. If you don’t submit, you will destroy everything—and everyone—around you.”

“No!” The word rips out of me, raw and desperate. My hands ignite with blazing energy, the light spilling out in uncontrollable bursts. The power surges, rising to a fever pitch, and I know—Iknow—I can’t hold it back any longer.

“Damien, stop!” my mother screams, her voice cracking.

“I can’t!” I shout, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “I don’t know how!”

The men rush me, their magic colliding with mine in a violent explosion. The house trembles, the walls groaning as waves of energy lash out in every direction. Windows shatter, furniture splinters, and the very air vibrates with the force of it. My body feels like it’s on fire, my power spilling out faster than I can contain it.

“Restrain him!” one of the men shouts, his voice barely audible over the cacophony.

But it’s too late.

The storm inside me bursts free, consuming everything in its path. Light and heat explode outward, a tidal wave of destruction that tears through the house like a bomb. I hear my mother’s scream, sharp and short, before it’s swallowed by the roar. And then... silence.

When the dust settles,I’m on my knees in the ruins of what used to be my home. My chest heaves with ragged breaths, and my hands tremble as I stare at the destruction around me. The walls are gone, reduced to rubble. The air is thick with smoke and ash. And there, amidst the wreckage, lies my mother.

“No,” I whisper, crawling toward her. My hands are shaking so violently that I can barely move. “No, no, no...”

I reach her, my fingers brushing against her still form. Her eyes are closed, her face pale. I press my hands to her chest, willing her to wake up, to breathe, todosomething. But there’s nothing. No rise and fall of her chest. No heartbeat. Just... nothing.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, tears streaming down my face. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t?—”

“Damien.” The leader’s voice cuts through my grief, calm and steady. I look up to see him standing over me, his expression unreadable. “This is what happens when power like yours goes unchecked.”

“Shut up!” I scream, the energy flaring to life in my hands again. But it’s weaker now, sputtering like a dying flame. I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, my body trembling with the effort of holding on.

“You didn’t want this,” he continues, his voice almost sympathetic. “You didn’t mean for this to happen. But it did. And it will happen again if you don’t learn to control it.”

I stare at him, my vision swimming with tears. “I don’t... I don’t know how.”

“We do,” he says simply, extending his hand. “Come with us. Let us help you. We can give you the control you need, the strength to keep this from happening again.”

I glance back at my mother’s lifeless body, the guilt crushing me like a weight I can’t bear. My hands are stained with soot and blood, my power spent. I look back at the man, his outstretched hand a lifeline in the wreckage of my life.

“What’s the catch?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“There’s always a price for power,” he admits. “But it’s better than losing control. Better than... this.”

I hesitate, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. Then, slowly, I take his hand.

“Good,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “You’ll understand in time.”

As we leave the ruins of my home behind, I feel the first shackle close around me, invisible but unyielding. I know I’ve made a deal with the devil. But in that moment, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I never hurt anyone like this again.

Even if it means losing myself.

They call it the Binding.A ritual, they said, to channel my power and give it purpose. But it feels like a violation.

I’m on my knees in a dark, cavernous room, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning incense. Shadows twist and dance along the stone walls, flickering in time with the runes carved into the floor. The runes glow with a sickly green light, their energy writhing like snakes. The air hums, heavy and oppressive, pressing down on my chest.

The men surround me, their voices a relentless drone as they chant in a language I don’t understand. Their words are jagged and guttural, cutting through the air like shards of glass. Each syllable grates against my mind, making it harder to think, to breathe. The energy from the runes snakes up my arms, curling around me like chains, burrowing into my skin. It burns.

The power inside me roars in defiance, fighting against the pull of their magic. It lashes out, desperate and wild, sending cracks through the stone floor beneath me. But the runes only glow brighter, their grip tightening as the men’s chanting grows louder.

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