The town of Ravenshollow was never quiet, not really. Even in the dead of night, something always moved, wind brushing through trees like whispers, the faint scurrying of unseen creatures, or the occasional cry of an owl watching from above.
But tonight, the air was different.
Thicker. Still.
Like the world itself was holding its breath.
And then the moon rose, low, heavy, and bleeding red.
Isla Ward stood by her bedroom window, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide as she stared up at the strange, haunting sky. The blood moon was a rare event, but in Ravenshollow, it wasn't just rare. It was feared.
Like her grandmother used to say, "Lock your doors when the moon turns red. That's when the dead remember their promises."
Isla however laughed at it when she was young, but not anymore.
She pressed her palm against the cool glass, the silence outside pressing against her like a weight. She could feel it again, the sense that something was watching her. It had been happening more often these past few weeks. Not during the day, but only at night.
Only when she was alone.
She turned away from her window, heart thudding like a warning drum. Her room was exactly as she'd left it. a small desk in the corner stacked with half-finished sketches, her bookshelf stuffed with dog-eared novels and notebooks, and her bed unmade as always.
And yet…. something felt wrong.
Her eyes were drawn to the mirror hanging beside her closet. It was old, because it was inherited from her grandmother, with a wooden frame. Lately, she saw the reflection looked a second too slow like it was watching, not reflecting.
She walked closer to the mirror and stared at herself, nothing strange.
Just her pale skin, long dark hair falling messily around her shoulders, and hazel eyes tired from another sleepless night.
She was being paranoid. Again.
She pulled the heavy velvet curtain across the mirror and backed away.
"I need to stop reading horror novels before bed," she muttered, climbing onto her mattress.
But the moment she lay down, the silence returned. Thick. Suffocating.
Outside, the wind had stopped.
The trees were still.
And in the distance, a low hum rose, unnatural.
Isla sat up slowly, her heartbeat stuttering. The hum grew louder, not mechanical, not anything human.
Without even thinking, she slid out of bed, grabbed her hoodie, and crept down the stairs. Her parents were out of town, some emergency at her dad's workplace. She was alone for the weekend.
She slipped on her boots and stepped into the night.
The air was icy, laced with mist that curled at her ankles like smoke. The sky glowed red, casting everything in a bloody hue. Her breath fogged in front of her as she moved through the woods behind her house, drawn by that strange hum.
She knew these woods. Grew up in them. But tonight, they felt… foreign.
And then she saw it.
A clearing up ahead, bathed in the blood moon's light. At the center, a stone arch half-buried in the earth — she was sure it hadn't been there before. Vines twisted around it, pulsing like veins. And inside the arch, a figure.
Still. Tall. Shrouded in black.
Her feet stopped moving. Her lungs forgot how to breathe.
The figure raised its head.
Eyes like molten silver locked onto hers, glowing in the dark.
Isla stumbled back.
The man stepped forward, though man didn't feel like the right word. He moved like smoke, like he wasn't bound by gravity or time. His skin was pale, but not in a sickly way, more like polished marble. Beautiful. Unnatural.
His face was sharp, sculpted like something from a forgotten painting. Dark hair curled at the nape of his neck. His eyes never left hers.
"Isla," he said, voice deep and low, with an accent she couldn't place. It rumbled through her bones.
She froze. "How do you know my name?"
He stepped closer and said.
"I've known it for a long time."
She took a step back. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he almost remembered how to solve.
"You shouldn't be here," he said softly, regret in his tone. "Not yet."
She swallowed hard. "What are you?"
A pause.
"Once," he said, "I was a prince. Then a monster. Now… just a ghost bound by a vow."
He looked up at the blood moon.
"It begins again."
Before she could speak, a gust of wind howled through the trees. Leaves spun like blades. The earth trembled. The arch behind him began to crack, dark tendrils of mist snaking from its base.
The man reached for her.
She flinched, but something stopped her from running. A warmth spread through her chest, like his presence was pulling something ancient from inside her. Like they weren't strangers at all.
His fingers brushed her wrist.
A shot through her body, sharp, searing, electric. She gasped, falling to her knees.
The mark appeared then — glowing like fire on her skin, shaped like a crescent rose. It pulsed once. Twice. Then vanished.
She looked up, but he was gone.
The arch, crumbled.
And the blood moon began to fade, its light dimming like a candle before dawn.
Isla stumbled back to her house in silence, her body shaking, her thoughts screaming.
She didn't sleep that night.
She couldn't, because deep down, she knew…
The vampire wasn't a dream.
And he'd come for her again.