Page 61 of The Blood Moon Hunt

"Monstrous?" Adrian finishes, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Yes. But effective. It allowed warlocks to continue feeding without killing, without burning. They perfected the process over time, and now, it’s what we do every year during the Hunt."

"So the Hunt is just a way for the Order to controlthe warlocks’ power?" I ask, feeling a deep unease settle over me.

"Yes. The Order can’t afford for warlocks to become too powerful, too uncontrollable. They stole the souls of the last of the witches. The Hunt gives the Order a way to manage us, to allow us to feed without upsetting the balance. We are slaves to it, in a way. The Order has ways of controlling us that even warlocks as powerful as us cannot fight against.

“The Hunt has evolved over time, of course. With witches hunted into extinction, warlocks found that they could claim humans as well. But it was never the same as claiming a witch’s soul. Humans are... fleeting, shallow in comparison. Their souls provide only temporary sustenance.”

Adrian’s eyes narrow, the weight of his own family’s history pressing down on him. "But this year... this year is different."

The pieces start to fall into place, but there’s still one lingering question. “Do you think Selene could be a witch?”

Adrian hesitates, considering my words carefully. “I don’t know. As far as I was aware, all witch bloodlines were ended long ago. She could be the last witch, Lucien. The Order must know this. That’s why they’re desperate to claim her. If any warlock claims her, they will greatly upset the balance."

I let that sink in, the implications weighing heavily. "And that’s why we all lose control around her. Because we want her soul, whether we realize it or not."

Adrian nods, his expression grave. "Exactly. Her power... it calls to us, like a drug. It’s why we must be careful, Lucien. If any of us claims her soul, it will grant us immense power, yes, but ultimately destroy us."

I glance at Adrian, trying to read him. "And what’s your angle in all of this? What do you really want?"

Adrian smirks, though there’s no humor in it. "I want to survive, Lucien. I’ve seen what happens to warlocks who lose control. The lesser warlocks who participate in the Hunt every year? They descend into madness because they don’t have strong enough bloodlines to handle the power. They’re like wild beasts, driven by their hunger. They’re easier to control that way."

"That’s convenient for the Order, isn’t it?" I say with a bitter laugh. "Keeps the lesser warlocks in line, ensures the power stays with those like us. That’s why they don’t let us feed year-round. Except for Damien, of course. He’s allowed to do whatever he pleases because he’s the Order’s pet."

Adrian’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t disagree. “Damien’s position comes with its own... burdens. He’s not as free as you think. He answers to the Order constantly. Personally, I’d rather have my freedom and feed once a year than be leashed like that.”

I snort, leaning against the mantle. “And yet, even you lost control around Selene, didn’t you?”

Adrian’s gaze sharpens, but a wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “True enough. It seems we all did.”

Just as the weight of our conversation settles, a pulse of energy ripples through the room. I can feel it in my bones, a surge of power coming from the forest. Adrian stiffens, his gaze snapping toward the window.

"Did you feel that?" I ask, my voice tight with tension.

Adrian nods, his expression dark. "Something’s happening. We need to move. Now."

Without another word, we both rush toward the door, the pull of Selene’s power drawing us toward the forest.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

ADRIAN

The night is thick with tension, the air heavy as Lucien and I move swiftly through the forest, our steps silent. The glow of the altar ahead pulses faintly, casting an eerie light in the distance. We’re close now, but it’s not the altar that has my attention—it’s Selene. I can feel her presence, her power calling out like a beacon, raw and untamed, but growing stronger by the second.

Beside me, Lucien’s expression is dark, his eyes locked on the clearing ahead. I know what he’s thinking—he can sense Selene’s power too. And he’s feeling the same pull that I am. But we’re not alone. The shadows swirl around the perimeter, and lesser warlocks areclosing in, drawn to her energy. Their hunger, their madness, is palpable even from here.

We pause just before entering the clearing, our eyes assessing the situation. Ronan and Damien are there, both standing near Selene, surrounded by the chaos of shadows and feral warlocks. Selene, in the center, looks vulnerable yet defiant. The altar pulses with a fading glow beneath her.

“There are too many,” Lucien mutters beside me, his voice low. “They’ll tear them apart.”

I nod, my mind already calculating. We don’t have the time to strategize, and every second counts. “We need to strike now, create an opening for Ronan and Damien to fend off the rest.”

Lucien’s hand crackles with energy, his impatience evident. “Let’s get this over with.”

We move in tandem, launching ourselves toward the shadows with precise force. My power surges through me, a familiar, sharp-edged current that cuts through the dark entities, driving them back. Lucien’s attacks are more chaotic, lashing out with wild aggression, but they work. We hit hard, pushing the shadows back and scattering the lesser warlocks just long enough for Ronan and Damien to regroup.

“Go!” I shout to Ronan and Damien as they fight back against the encroaching warlocks. “We’ll hold them off.”

---