࣪ ִֶָ☾. Beneath the Crimson Moon ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Chapter 1: Marked by the Moon ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

They say the crimson moon chooses its own, but I never asked to be chosen.

For as long as I can remember, the villagers of Elmwood have celebrated the crimson moon like it's a gift from the gods. Every month, as the red glow spills over the rooftops, they dance, sing, and feast in its honor.

But for me, the crimson moon is a curse.

I sit at the edge of the forest, away from the noise of the celebration. My fingers trace the faint scar on my left wrist, a mark that only glows under the moonlight. It appeared two years ago, on my sixteenth birthday-the same night I started hearing the whispers.

"Lila."

The voice is soft, barely louder than the wind rustling through the trees. I snap my head toward the forest, heart pounding.

It's always the same. A call. A name. A pull.

I clench my hands into fists. *Don't listen.* That's what the elders say. Don't listen, don't look, and whatever you do, don't go into the forest.

But every time the crimson moon rises, the whispers grow louder.

Tonight, though, something's different.

"Enjoying the view?"

I whirl around, startled. A boy-no, a man-stands a few feet away, leaning casually against a tree. He's tall, with dark hair that falls over his eyes, and there's something sharp about his smile.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice sharper than I intend.

"Cassian," he says, pushing off the tree and stepping closer. His eyes flick to my wrist, where the mark glows faintly. "And you must be the one the forest's been calling."

My blood runs cold.

"How do you know about that?"

He shrugs, as if discussing the weather. "I've seen it before. That mark, I mean. You're not the first."

He's lying. He has to be. But something in his tone, in the way he looks at me, makes me hesitate.

"And what do you know about the mark?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"More than the elders will ever tell you." His smile fades, replaced by something darker. "If you want answers, meet me here tomorrow night. Midnight."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't." He turns, disappearing into the shadows before I can say another word.

The whispers grow louder.

---