Blood Moon (San x Reader)

11

The sun was shining unusually brightly. The birds were chirping again. The castle was quiet. It had been quiet for the past 200 years. It recently became a museum. Of course, no one dared to visit. It was said that 8 vengeful spirits haunted the castle. Well, that was the story that was always told. No one ever told the story of how love blossomed in a place full of loneliness. No one told the story of how love grew where anger and bitterness once resided. The story of how a vengeful spirit fell in love with a legendary huntress was lost in time. However, maybe some stories were meant to be forgotten. Maybe they were meant to be lost for the purpose of being rewritten. Much like fate, this story was fickle and left many questions unanswered. Why would a huntress fall in love with an angry spirit? The answer was merely because of love. Love is a fickle concept, yet it exists because we humans need it. Love exists because we are meant to love. We were created to love. Still, so many questions were left unanswered. Did the spirit truly love the huntress? Why was the ritual never completed? What would have happened if the sacrifice was complete? But these questions were better left unanswered.

...

No one was really afraid of spirits anymore. They became an afterthought. Urban legend. Mythical folklore. No one wondered if the blood of a hunter ran through their veins anymore, or if their ancestors were from a legendary family of hunters and spirit seekers. It all become obsolete. The practice of spirit seeking, spirit hunting. It was useless now. No one was really afraid of spirits anymore. The fear that once controlled the minds of even the fiercest hunters and huntresses had disappeared. It was washed away by the gentle waters of time. The cruel tides of time.

...

Red. Glowing. Familiar eyes. They stared back at her own. Her fear paralyzed her. Unable to move. Unable to scream. Yet, she felt that a part of her was unafraid. Unafraid to stare back at those glowing, red, familiar orbs. She felt encapsulated by their blinding stare. Entranced by their subtle gentleness. They weren't the eyes of a stranger. They held familiarity within themselves. A subtle sense of comfort and cozyness rested within their striking glow. Lifeless, yet full of wonder and love. Cold, yet burning with a passion that had no bounds. They were the eyes of a lover. The brilliant red soon faded away. The room faded to black. There was only an intense feeling of solidarity. Loneliness. Confusion. She was lost.

...

Blood. Blood-stained hands. The curse of the Blood Moon. Innocent blood, slain. Innocent love, lost. Loneliness. Bitterness. Guilt. Anger.

...

Open your eyes. Do you see the light?