They say when the moon bleeds, the forgotten remember.
That night, the sky didn't just turn red. It pulsed—veins of crimson threading through clouds like blood in gauze. A low rumble in the woods sounded almost human, like someone weeping inside the earth.
Aanya hadn't looked at the moon in years. Not since she saw her aunt Veena vanish into Room 13.
Not since she felt the House breathe.
But tonight,the blood moon hung directly above the spires of the old mansion.
And in her trembling hands... Was a letter.
It arrived at midnight, slipped under her apartment door without a single footstep heard .
No mailman. No Knock.
Just the hiss of old paper across cold tiles.
The envelope was faded ivory, sealed with red wax bearing with family crest— the serpent encircling the bleeding moon
She had only seen that emblem once before, stitched into the curtains of the ballroom in the Withered House.
The front of the letter bore no name.
Just a single line in dark ink:
"You are the last. Return before the next moon dies."
She wanted to tear it apart. Burn it . Pretend she didn't feel the weight of the ink . But her fingers traced it like a compulsion. The wax seal pulsed under her thumb like a heartbeat.
Inside the envelope was something else.
A torn page from her aunt's journal.
And a key.
She unfolded the page carefully.
The handwriting was frantic—smeared, slanted,as if written in the dark.
"He's real. Not a ghost. Not a memory. He's waiting in Room 13. He knows things I never told anyone. He touches me in dreams and I wake up crying. I think he's inside the mirror. I think... I let him in."
Aanya dropped the page. Her pulse slammed in her ears.
A knock sounded at her window.
Second floor.
Impossible.
She turned slowly.
No one there.
But the scent of jasmine—faint, haunting —curled under her nose like a memory she'd buried.
She didn't sleep that night
Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed with the key clenched in the palm, the edges cutting into her skin.
And the blood moon.... Watched.
Three days later, she returned to the Withered House.
She didn't tell anyone. She couldn't.
This wasn't a trip. It was a calling.
As she approached the gates again, something was different.
The fog was thicker.
The Ravens on the balcony didn't caw. They stared
And carved crudely into the wood of the gate in a language she didn't recognize were the words:
"The House is awake. So is he."
Inside, the letter pulsed in her coat pocket like a second heartbeat.
She didn't go straight to Room 13. She couldn't.
Her hands l, almost instinctively, led her to the West Wing Library —her aunt's favorite room. It hadn't aged well. Cobwebs dressed the shelves like mourning veils. Books had fallen in Strange patterns , forming circles, crosses, and one large eye drawn in chalk across the rug.
But the desk.... Was untouched.
The propped against an antique ink bottle, was a second note
"He's bound by blood and bound by choice. You'll meet him soon. But don't speak your name. The house has already has it."
Aanya's breath caught in her throat.
How were these notes appearing before she arrived?
Unless —
Someone already knew she was coming
Or worse..... Someone led her here.
A gust of wind swept through the library.
One book fell from the top shelf.
It thudded open to a page with an old charcoal sketch.
Of the man.
The one she saw in Room 13.
She backed away, heart thudding, but her foot hit something solid —
A velvet box
Not there before.
She opened it
Inside was a ribbon of dark red silk, the exact shade of the blood moon. And wrapped inside it—
A SILVER RING etched with ancient symbols.
When she touched it, a cold breath bloomed across her collarbone.
And a whisper:
"You're already wearing me."
Aanya dropped the ring with a choked gasp, but it clung to her skin, stuck like frostbite.
In the mirror across the room, her reflection smiled.
But SHE WASN'T.
To be continued....
****
✨👑🔥 AUTHOR'S HAUNTING NOTE—From Zara@vexInk
Dearest shadowhearts
Did you feel it ?
The heartbeat in the letter. The man in the sketch.
The whispers that echoed in your own room just now ?
This isn't fiction anymore.
The House has remembered you.
And it doesn't like to be ignored.
Tell me.....
Dis you check your reflection after reading this?
🕯️ Until the next chapter—
Whisper back carefully. He's listening.
—Zara
(The Queen of shadows. Keepers of secrets)