Page 81 of The Blood Moon Hunt

She closes her eyes, her expression one of pure concentration as she tries to harness the power of the altar.

But I can feel the tension in the air. The weight of the moment.

And I know, deep down, that this isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

The shadows are still coming.

And Ronan is still watching.

And the worst part is... I don’t know if we can stop them.

Chapter

Forty-Four

SELENE

The battle rages around me, shadows and warlocks clashing in a whirlwind of magic and violence. The ground trembles beneath the weight of their power, the air thick with the sharp tang of fear and desperation. But I’m frozen in place, drawn to the altar at the center of the clearing, its cold stone surface calling to me like a siren's song.

My heart pounds in my chest as I reach out, my fingertips brushing the worn edges of the inscriptions carved into the altar. The moment my skin makes contact with the stone, a surge of energy courses through my body, so powerful that it knocks the breath from my lungs.

The world around me begins to blur, the sounds ofthe battle fading away, replaced by an eerie silence. My vision swims, the clearing disappearing, and suddenly, I’m no longer standing in the middle of a war zone. I’m somewhere else—somewhere far older, far darker.

The sky above me is a deep, unnatural orange, as if the very heavens have been set ablaze. Thick, black smoke curls toward the horizon, blotting out the sun, and with it, any hope of relief. The stench hits me first—burning flesh, acrid and nauseating. It clings to the air like a suffocating blanket, curling inside my lungs with every breath I take. My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the horror in front of me.

There they are, the witches. Dozens of them. Bound to tall, crooked stakes, their bodies engulfed in violent, ravenous flames. The fire licks at their skin, turning it black and charred, the heat so intense I can feel it from where I stand, even though I’m several feet away. Their faces are twisted in agony, mouths open wide as their screams cut through the silence like a blade, raw and piercing. It’s a sound so haunting, so filled with pain, it claws at my soul.

I try to move, to run to them, to stop this nightmare, but my feet are rooted to the ground, as if the very earth beneath me has turned to quicksand, pulling me deeper, trapping me. Panic surges through my veins, cold and electric, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t move. I’m powerless, a spectator to their torment.

The flames rise higher, crackling viciously as they consume the witches, their fiery tendrils wrapping around their bodies like serpents. The heat intensifies, distorting the air around them, creating a sickening haze that makes it hard to focus. Still, I can see the agony etched into their faces, their eyes wide and pleading, as though they can see me standing there—watching—yet unable to save them.

I choke back a sob, tears stinging my eyes. Every instinct in me is screaming to act, to help them, but I am paralyzed. Trapped in this moment of horror, forced to witness their destruction. The flames roar, growing louder, and the smoke thickens, but the screams... The screams continue, echoing endlessly, a symphony of suffering that will haunt me forever.

“Do you see now?” a voice says, cold and sharp. “Do you understand what they did to us?”

I turn, and standing before me are the witches—their spirits, their forms barely more than shadows themselves. Their eyes are hollow, filled with a rage that simmers just beneath the surface.

“This is the place where we were sacrificed,” one of the witches says, her voice carrying a weight that makes my heart ache. “Burned by the warlocks, consumed by their greed for power.”

Another witch steps forward, her gaze hard as she points to the altar behind me. “This stone was soaked with our blood. Our souls bound to it in death, cursed toremain here. But you, Selene—you are one of the last of our kind.”

Her words hit me like a blow, and I feel the cold chill of realization settle over me. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. “I can’t be.”

“You are,” the witch continues. “And it is only through you that you can complete what we started. Destroy them and free us from our own curse.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. “What curse? Why me?”

The witches exchange glances, their expressions grim. The one who first spoke steps forward, her voice lowering. “The warlocks of the Order were once mortal men. Men who consumed the souls of witches, seeking power beyond what they could control. But consuming a witch’s soul comes at a terrible cost. It drives them mad with hunger, with desire for more. It was we who cursed them. The warlocks who burned us—they became immortal, yes, but they are no longer men. Their souls are bound to darkness, twisted by their greed. But in the same way, our souls are bound to this place.”

I feel my knees weaken as I take in their words. “You share in their curse?”

“Yes,” another witch hisses, her eyes blazing with fury. “We couldn’t destroy them. It's against our nature. Our magic comes from the Earth. It's not meant to destroy. Only a warlock can destroy another warlock.Our hexes bound them to the shadows, but it was not enough. They still walk this world, feeding on the souls of the innocent. They must be stopped.”

The witch’s voice drops lower, almost conspiratorial. “That’s why you must bind yourself to them. Only through binding their power to yours can you use their magic to destroy them once and for all.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air as her words sink in. I feel the weight of their eyes on me, expectant, as if they’re waiting for me to agree. But something about this feels wrong.

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