Chapter 3

The history books speak of the Red Moon with a sense of reverence and dread, detailing its significance in hushed tones. It's a day when the veil between realms is thinnest, when the boundaries that separate our world from the other side grow weak and permeable. 

But the Red Moon is more than just a day of superstition. It is a reminder of the great war that once tore the heavens asunder, a war between the three Fates. They were brothers, powerful beyond measure, ruling over all creation with a hand that was both just and cruel. But even gods are not immune to envy and strife.

The war began as a disagreement, a small rift between the brothers that quickly grew into a storm. The heavens trembled as the Fates clashed, their fury shaking the very foundation of the cosmos. In their rage, they ripped open the veil that separated the mortal world from the realm of demons, a dark and twisted place where nightmares took form and ancient evils lay in wait.

When the veil was torn, the demons came pouring through the opening like a flood. They brought with them death and destruction, ravaging the land with a ferocity that had never been seen before. They slaughtered and raped, leaving a trail of blood and tears in their wake. The mortals, caught in the middle of this celestial battle, could do nothing but watch in horror as their world was torn apart.

The Fates, once their fight was over, realized the magnitude of their mistake. They tried to clean up the mess they had made, sealing the veil and banishing the demons back to their realm. But it was too late. The damage had been done, and the demons had already sown their seeds of corruption. Halflings were born from the union of demons and mortals—creatures that were part human, part demon. These halflings, or Shades as they came to be known, were feared and hated by the mortal clans.

The Alphas of the seven Clans, leaders of their people and protectors of their lands, were disgusted by the existence of these half-blooded creatures. They saw the Shades as an abomination, a stain on the purity of their bloodlines. In their eyes, the Shades were a constant reminder of the horrors the demons had wrought, and they vowed to cleanse the world of their taint. They declared a great hunt, a campaign of violence and death that would span generations. The Shades were hunted down like animals, dragged from their homes and slaughtered in the streets. No mercy was shown, no quarter given.

And when the Fates did nothing to stop them, the Alphas took their silence as approval. The hunt continued, becoming a ritual, a tradition passed down through the generations. To this day, the Clans continue their bloody work, exterminating any Shade they find, ensuring that their lands remain pure and untainted.

I know all of this. I've read the history books, listened to the stories whispered in dark corners and around flickering fires. I've heard the priests speak of the Red Moon with a mixture of reverence and fear, warning us of the dangers that come with the thinning of the veil. But none of that has stopped me from what I'm about to do.

It's the day before the Red Moon, and I'm borrowing my sister's truck, trying to convince myself that this is a bad idea. But deep down, I know that my desperation will win out. I can't afford to be afraid, not now. Not when the Red Moon is so close, not when my first shift is only a day away. I've been trying to tell myself that I'm not a Shade, that when I shift, I'll be just like everyone else. But the fear is always there, lurking in the back of my mind, whispering to me in the dead of night.

The engine of the old truck roars to life, and I drive away from the Clan's territory, heading toward Hangman's Cavern. The road is long and winding, the trees on either side of the path growing thicker and darker as I go. I can feel the weight of history pressing down on me, the knowledge of what happened on that first Red Moon, of the horrors that were unleashed upon the world.

Hangman's Cavern is a cave at the side of a cliff, surrounded by water and nearly a mile and a half away from the Clan's borders. It's a place of legend, a place where the veil is said to be thinner than anywhere else. The stories say that it was here that the Fates fought their final battle, that it was here that the first demon crossed over into our world.

I park the truck at the edge of the forest, the trees casting long shadows over the path that leads to the cave. The sun is setting, the sky a deep crimson, and I can feel the air growing colder as the night approaches. I step out of the truck, my breath misting in the air, and walk around to the back to retrieve the knapsack I've packed for this journey.

As I stand there, staring up at the mouth of the cave, I can feel the weight of the decision I'm about to make. The fear is there, gnawing at the edges of my resolve, but I push it down. I don't have a choice. I have to do this.

With the knapsack slung over my shoulder, I begin the trek up the steep path that leads to the cave. The ground is uneven, the rocks loose and treacherous beneath my feet, but I keep going, my eyes fixed on the dark opening in the cliffside. The wind howls around me, tugging at my clothes, but I don't stop.

When I finally reach the entrance to the cave, I pause, my heart pounding in my chest. The darkness inside is thick and impenetrable, a black void that seems to swallow all light. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and step inside.

The air is cold and damp, the smell of earth and stone filling my nostrils. I can hear the distant sound of water dripping somewhere in the depths of the cave, a slow, rhythmic beat that echoes off the walls. 

I find a flat, open space near the back of the cave and set down the knapsack. My hands tremble as I unzip the bag and pull out the supplies I've brought with me—the scroll, the chalk, the candles. The scroll is old, the parchment yellowed and brittle, but the runes inscribed on it are clear and sharp, glowing faintly in the dim light.

I kneel on the cold stone floor, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. My fingers are stiff with cold as I unroll the scroll and begin to draw the runes on the ground, carefully replicating the symbols that I've memorized. The chalk scrapes against the stone, the sound loud in the silence of the cave.

As I work, I can feel the air growing heavier, the atmosphere thickening with a sense of anticipation. The runes seem to pulse with a life of their own, the lines shimmering as I complete each one. The fear is still there, a tight knot in my chest, but I push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Finally, I draw the last rune and sit back on my heels, staring at the completed circle. The runes glow faintly in the darkness, a soft, ethereal light that seems to pulse in time with my heartbeat. I can feel the power in the air, the magic that has been woven into the very fabric of the cave.

For a moment, I hesitate, the weight of what I'm about to do pressing down on me. But then I remember Rivian's words, the smug smile on his face when he told me to count my days. I think of the hatred in the eyes of the Priests, of the fear that has followed me my entire life. And I know that I can't turn back now.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and begin the incantation.

The words are ancient, the language one that has not been spoken by mortals for centuries. The sound of them feels foreign on my tongue, but I speak them with conviction, pouring all of my fear and desperation into each syllable. The air around me begins to hum with energy, the runes glowing brighter as the magic takes hold.

I can feel the veil between worlds thinning, the boundary between our realm and the realm of the Fates growing weaker with each word I speak. The darkness in the cave seems to deepen, the shadows stretching and twisting as if they have a life of their own.

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, I slash my palm open with a blade and speak the last word of the incantation, whilst blood splatters across the runes.

The cave falls silent, the air still and heavy. For a moment, nothing happens, and I wonder if I've made a terrible mistake. But then, slowly, the runes begin to glow brighter, the light spreading and filling the cave with an eerie, otherworldly radiance.

The air ripples, and I feel a presence, something ancient and powerful, stirring in the darkness. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait, my breath caught in my throat.

And then, from the shadows, a figure begins to emerge.

The Fate has answered my call.