Before the Blood Moon rises.

Before the Blood Moon rises.
Aria’s POV

The night never seems to end. Even though the fighting is over, even though the gates still stand and the shadows have been pushed back, the Kingdom does not feel victorious. The air is heavy with the smell of smoke and blood, the stones are dark with stains that no water will wash away, and everywhere I turn, there are reminders of what we lost and what still waits for us in the mountains. Darius moves among his warriors like the King that he is, his voice steady, his commands clear, his presence the strength that keeps them from giving in to despair. He speaks to them not as a King above them but as one of them, a warrior who bled at their side, and I can see how much it matters, how much his strength gives them reason to rise again even when they are exhausted and broken.
But I also see what he does not say out loud. I see the shadows in his eyes when he glances toward the mountains, the tension in his shoulders when he pauses for too long, the way his hand never strays far from the hilt of his sword as though he expects another attack at any moment. He knows the truth, just as I do. This is the battle we have to win. We cannot give them time to recover. We know that Lilith’s darkness makes it difficult for Ethan and the warriors to recover. We have to strike, and we have to strike now while they are weak.
Florence and her witches gather near the gates, their robes trailing across the blood-soaked stone as they weave light into the cracks of the walls. Their chants rise and fall like the sound of waves against the shore, steady, unyielding, weaving a net of power that holds back whatever remnants of Lilith’s darkness still cling to the stone. I watch as their light burns away the last black streaks that had wormed into the gates, the shadows hissing as they vanish into smoke.
“Her touch lingers,” Florence says quietly as she passes me, her face pale with strain. “Every wound she left behind is slow to close, every wall she struck resists the light. If we give her five days to gather strength beneath the Blood Moon, she will not come alone next time. She will call others, the rogues, the witches, even the creatures that live in the dark places of the world. They will answer her.”
So, Florence knows what we already know. Her words sink into me like stones into water, dragging me down with their weight. I know she is right. Lilith is not the type to lick her wounds and wait. She is the type to burn everything in her path until nothing remains but ash. I turn toward Darius, who is standing at the heart of his men, his golden eyes bright even in the dim torchlight. He speaks of duty, of courage, of the promise that the Kingdom will not fall as long as they stand together. The warriors listen, their shoulders squaring, their howls rising in unison as his words ignite their strength again. Yet, when his gaze finds mine across the crowd, I know he carries the same fear I do, that five days is too short, and too long all at once.
When he finally steps away from the men, I go to him, my light dim but steady, my body aching from what little healing I managed to give. He looks at me for a long moment, and I see the exhaustion in his face, the way it hides beneath the steel of his determination.
“We cannot wait,” I whisper.
“No,” he agrees, his voice rough but certain. “If we sit behind these walls, if we wait for the Blood Moon, she will return stronger than ever. She will bring an army of shadows we cannot hope to match. We must go to her first.”
The thought of leaving the safety of these walls, of marching into the mountains where her shadows gather, chills me to the bone, but the thought of facing her again when the Blood Moon crowns the sky chills me more. She will be stronger then. Ethan will be stronger, too. If we wait, we may not have the chance to stop them. My gaze drifts to the courtyard where the wounded lie, warriors whose healing is slowed by Lilith’s poison, their groans soft but unending. Normally, they would be standing by now, armour back on, blades ready, but her darkness clings like tar, holding them down, reminding us all that even when she is gone, her presence lingers.
“She has already stolen too much from us,” I say softly, my throat tight. “If she gathers more, if she binds those creatures to her before the Blood Moon rises…” I cannot finish the thought, but I do not have to. Darius knows. He takes my hand for only a moment, his grip strong, steadying me even as his eyes burn with the fire of the hunt.
“Then we hunt her,” he says, and I know there is no turning back.
The hours that follow are filled with quiet preparations, though nothing about them feels quiet to me. The armourers work through the night, repairing shields dented by claws and reforging blades dulled by too much blood. The witches store their light in crystals, weaving their chants into weapons that will hold the glow even when Lilith’s darkness tries to attack them. The Lycans pace restlessly along the walls, their claws scraping against stone, their eyes still burning with the memory of battle. I walk among them, speaking where I can, giving what light I still have left to those who need it most. Some reach for my hand as though just my touch is enough to keep them steady. Others bow their heads as I pass, whispering prayers.
When dawn comes, pale and cold, the Kingdom does not rest. The bodies of the fallen are carried to the edge of the forest, their names spoken aloud so that the wind itself will remember them. The wounded remain in the courtyard, Florence and the witches working tirelessly to keep the darkness from spreading deeper into their blood. The air smells of smoke and ash, but beneath it all, I can sense the rising tension, the quiet truth that lives in every glance exchanged among the warriors.
We are going after them. We will not give Lilith and Ethan the time they need. The Blood Moon is coming, and if we do not strike before its light crowns the sky, we may lose more than our Kingdom. We may lose everything. I look up at the pale morning moon, faint in the sky, already carrying the faint red hue that will only deepen with each passing night, and I feel its pull even in my bones. This is not just a battle for survival anymore. This is a race against time. Five days. That is all we have. Five days before the Blood Moon rises.