The Blood Moon

Five hundred years later …

Cerulean blue gaze mourned for the wasted sight before him. His eyes couldn't hide the anguish behind the wooden mask. A town once bustled with its residents filling the streets from dawn to dusk. Now candles lit every corner of the hollow town. Yet darkness swallowed these hopeless lights. The deafening hollow silenced the joy. Dried petals of white lilies scattered on every doorstep. Havenbarrow wasn't the first, nor will it be the last town buried in the darkest corner of the past. As the sinners grew, the living slowly lost their place in this world.

Luther held the rein tighter. The horse on his side nudged on his shoulder, alerted by his rage seeping out. He loosened his grip and brushed its head.

Curious eyes peeked out from the windows, watching him in the dark. Nowhere to go, the people of Havenbarrow remained in the shadow of their home. Luther couldn't imagine how these people lived on in such condition. Every root and soil of the land succumb to the touch of death. Supply from the cathedral was barely enough to feed the people across the land. There were more who were in worse condition. With nothing to feed their mouth, it was only a matter of time before even hope faded.

He stopped right in front of the entrance of the Havenbarrow's chapel. Its roof ripped away. A twin-wooden door stood alone amongst the remnants of the holy building. It was left naked, fitting to the eyes of sinners.

Luther pushed the door opened. The moment his foot stepped inside the chapel, voices of the fallen reached his soul.

"They breached the bridge!"

"Get the people to safety!"

"We mustn't allow the sinners to take Havenbarrow!"

Shouts of their courage warmed his chest. Despite the overwhelming loss, his brethren never let their enemies shook their faiths. They fought to the very end well. It was their unwavering courage that kept this town away from the sinner's grip. Yet, many were sacrificed for one insignificant victory.

Soon, fear tested their faiths. Wailing cries replaced the shout of their unwavering bravery. They begged and prayed the heaven for salvation from the fear gripping their hearts. One by one, their faith crumbled into fickle dust. They called out the names of their loved ones before fading into darkness. In a desperate moment, some tried to exchange their loyalty for a life. Despite clinging unto the life they were so desperate, it wasn't theirs anymore. Their mortal flesh melted, leaving only their shadow.

The blood of the servants painted on the wall told him stories of their ultimate acts. Petals of white lilies scattered everywhere. Shredded white-blue robes and cloaks hung into flagpoles. Their belief flaunted in such a humiliating state to the people. Even after they could keep the Havenbarrow, the enemies won the victory for their hearts. A message given to the people of the land.

Here lies your loyalty to the light — hopeless and futile.

Luther gazed up at the sky. The heaven's gate was closed tonight. Soon the black curtains would reveal the accursed blood moon. The return of a sinner of seven. To devour the light once more. An omen fated to repeat every five hundred years. A fate doomed to happen no matter what.

* * * * * *

Red streaks of light pierced through the cocoon, reaching out like hands to her lone figure. Her crimson eyes meet the gaze of the moon. Her consciousness drifted closer to the other side. Red blazing flames wrapped her vision. Ethel looked around in panic. She couldn't move. In the abyss, she has no vessel of flesh and blood, only the consciousness of her soul. Her cries came out quiet. The pain fueled her rage until it exploded, followed by the screams of her own.

Ethel gasped out and her hand reached out to the accursed moon. A scarlet butterfly rested on her outreached hand, waking her from the stall of mind. Ethel laid at the bottom of a dried lake. Her return ignited a blazing flame, drying its water into smoke. The forest around the river too met the same fate as the flame of her resurrection and wiped everything away into ashes.

"I'm back?" Ethel said melancholy. Even after returning from the abyss, she never once felt alive, but dead.

Six scarlet butterflies fluttered around. Their fluttered wings tickled her bare skin. Her long, obsidian black hair was the only thing that covered her. The sixth butterfly rested on her protruding black horn. The numbers of her butterflies grew as the cycle continued. They were a reminder of her counting deaths.

The sound of a twig snapped brought her attention. Sinners emerged from the darkness. They appeared in the image of mortals, while others remained within the corner of shadow with their red eyes glowed.

Ethel placed her palm on the ground. Black mist raised from her shadow. It embraced her bare skin, forming a black long robe covering her whole body.

A few charged ahead. Ethel let out a long sigh. Unseen forces squished the idiots who proceeded first, leaving nothing but the traces of their blood.

"You dare to bear your wrath on me?" Their hatred grew thicker after she killed their comrades. Letting their anger out was nothing but a breakfast to a sinner of wrath. Did pride let these naïve sinners hunted her on the first day of her resurrection? She expected so much from him, of all sinners. 

"Traitor!" They charged ahead together.

"Foolish children." She snapped her finger, rekindling the embers of scarlet flames in the area. It became a hellish scene, similar to what the mortal would describe the hell. Undying flame scorched the realm as it punished the sins for eternity.

Her shadows separated into six arms. Each grabbed the shadows of its prey. Their shadows ripped into pieces like paper, ending their life in seconds. One by one, the vessel fell and wide-opened eyes turned pale white. Ethel placed a hand on her mouth, stopping herself from vomiting. The taste of her kin never suits her palate. In fact, nothing in this world could satisfy her hunger. 

Though the battle was futile for her foes, their stubbornness drove their fear and doubt away. What madness did you push into them, pride?

His way with his words and charisma drove just any living being to obey his command. The pride of a sinner was what he called his calling. Salvation to those who were born in the shadows.

"Enough." Her shadows retracted. "You can never hope to win a battle against me, the Sinners of Seven."

"Kill her! Crush her! Traitor!"

Ethel sighed. Her words fell on deaf ears. She will have to kill them, eventually. The thought crushed her heart.

"I'll end this quick." Ethel took a deep breath. Suddenly, one of her scarlet butterfly rested on her lips.

"A mortal is nearby," it told her.

She clicked her tongue. She doesn't want to drag innocent souls into her personal trouble. One abyssal butterfly was enough to annihilate everything in the area. However, she can't drag this fight too long. She had only just awakened from five hundreds years of slumber. New reinforcements might arrive before she could kill them.

Should I just add another sin? 

Arrows of blue light dropped from above their heads like stars dropping from the heaven. It pierced and exploded their shadows. It illuminated the scenery into a night sky filled with blue stars glimmering around her. Awed by the beautiful sight, she tried catching the embers in her hand. It stung her pale skin. But she doesn't mind the pain. She was holding stars in her palm.

Who's miracle is this?

The radiant light cast the shadow out. No sinners survived except her. Not a single arrow flew close to her side. It was as if it was she was spared for the last judgment. 

As the smoke dispersed, a young man stood on top of a hill holding a silver bow. The silver pendant around his neck was the only clue she needed to know the identity of her guest. It was one trouble after another.

"We meet sooner than I wished," Ethel greeted the Luminary.