Page 88 of The Blood Moon Oath

And, I laugh.

The first one is gone, his body torn apart by the shockwave I sent rippling through the air. The next one is blown back by the force of my power, her body crumpling against the stone wall with a sickening thud. The last one—mysister—is the last to fall. She’s gasping for air, her hand clutching her throat, but it’s too late. The power has already consumed her.

I stand alone.

Laughing.

The air is thick with the stench of blood, the remains of myfamily scattered around me like broken toys. Their screams echo in my mind, their faces twisted in fear as I tore them apart. The power that I didn’t have, that they always mocked me for, now rages inside me—untamed, unstoppable.

I stand among the wreckage, breathing heavily, my body trembling with the aftermath. My hands, slick with blood, are still shaking. The room is a mess of destruction—stone walls cracked, furniture shattered, the earth beneath me torn apart. My siblings, my family—they are gone. They were never really family, were they? They never cared for me, never saw me as anything but a burden. Now, they’re dead. And I... I did this.

A maniacal laugh bubbles up from deep within me. It’s hollow, empty, and feels sowrong, but I can’t stop it. My heart beats faster, the bloodlust surging through me like a fever.

The power whispers to me. "This isn't enough. Takemore.Takeeverything.Take the world, the universe, and rip it apart with your bare hands. You are the reaper and the world will bow to your will."

I feel it in my bones, a dark hunger that fills the void of my empty soul. It’s like a fire, raging inside me, pushing me to destroy everything in my path.

The destruction around me... it doesn’t feel like enough. The thrill, the rush—it’s addictive. My body is still trembling, but it’s not from fear anymore. It’s fromneed. The desire toconsume. To take it all in, to let this power devour me and everything else.

I look around at the remnants of the tribe. They’re gone. All of them. Every one of them, wiped from existence. Not just my siblings buteveryone. The power I’ve held inside me, locked away for so long, has obliterated them all.

The voice within me grows louder, urging me on.

"Finish what you started. Let it consume you. Give in. Die like the rest of them."

My gaze shifts to the nearby table, where a blade lies gleaming in the dim light. I reach for it, my fingers curling around the hilt, and as I lift it, I feel the cool steel against my palm, the rush of adrenaline spiking as I prepare to end it all.

Do I end it now? End this madness, this pain? I’m already covered in blood, the lives of my family drained from them by my own hand. What’s left for me? Nothing.

I bring the blade to my chest, the tip pressing into the skin over my heart, the blood pulsing beneath it. One thrust. One clean motion.

But then something shifts. A voice, calm and steady, cuts through the madness.

“Not yet, Torin.”

I freeze. The words—they’re like a lifeline. A tether pulling me back from the edge. I look up, my vision hazy with blood and fury. I don’t recognize the man standing before me. His silhouette is shrouded in darkness, his presence like a beacon in the storm.

It’snotmy voice. It’s a voice I’ve not heard before. It’s not the voice of my family, not the voice of my tormentors. It’s...

I don’t know who he is, but his eyes—there’s something in them. Something that pulls me in, something that makes me hesitate.

He speaks again, softer this time, his voice filled with something like compassion, somethinghumanthat I can’t place. “It’s not time to die yet, Torin,” he says. “You still have a purpose. You’re not done.”

I stand there, trembling, the knife still pressed against my chest. The voice in my head screams at me to end it, to let go, but his words—his presence—anchor me. I feel the rage begin to drain out of me slowly, like water seeping from a broken dam.

But before I can speak, before I can ask who he is, everything fades.

I gaspas the world shifts. The weight of the memory lifts, the violent storm of Torin’s past slowly fading away, leaving me in the warmth of the present. I’m back in the bathtub, back in the safe embrace of the bathroom, Torin’s steady presence surrounding me. The water ripples gently, the soft heat soothing my aching body.

Tears streak down my face as I blink, my hand trembling as I reach up to touch my damp cheeks. I don’t even realize I’ve been crying. My mind is still reeling from what I just experienced.

I look up at Torin, his large form still surrounding me, his presence calming in its steadiness. But his eyes—there’s a flicker of something there, something raw, something he’s kept buried beneath the surface.

"Torin," I whisper, my voice breaking. “I... I understand now.”

His brow furrows, but there’s a softness to his gaze that wasn’t there before. He kneels in front of me, his strong hands reaching for mine. He holds them gently, as if afraid that I’ll break if he’s too rough.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I never wanted you to see that part of me.”

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