The village of Eldergrove lay nestled within the rolling hills of Dorset, shrouded in mist and folklore. The stone cottages, with their thatched roofs and blooming gardens, told stories of centuries past. Yet, as another moon rose high, round and luminous, it carried with it whispers of a dark legacy that only the villagers dared to speak of in hushed tones.
The old tales spoke of the Moonlit Bloodlines, a lineage seen as both a blessing and a curse. The first of the bloodlines had been said to be born under a rare blue moon, bestowed with exceptional gifts—strength, agility, and senses that transcended ordinary human experience. However, with these gifts came a shadow that stretched long and wide, a curse that manifested only when the moon was full. It was said that the bloodlines turned savage, beasts in human form, driven by primal instincts that had lain dormant under the skin.
As dusk fell upon Eldergrove, the villagers went about their evening rituals, unknowingly tethered to their fate. One resident, a young woman named Elspeth, had grown up hearing the old tales about the bloodlines but had always dismissed them as mere fables, concocted to frighten children into behaving. Nonetheless, deep within her heart, an unsettling feeling stirred when the full moon approached—a feeling mixed with an instinctively primal awareness that something was awry.
This evening, the air was heavy with an otherworldly silence as she stood at her window, gaze drawn to the silver glow bathing the woods beyond the village. She had often wandered those woods, climbing trees and collecting wildflowers, but tonight the path seemed different, almost beckoning her with an intensity she had never felt before. An ancestral pull.
Curiosity piqued, she slipped out of her home, clutching a lantern that flickered against the encroaching darkness. The woods, alive with the chorus of night creatures, whispered secrets old as time, drawing her deeper into their embrace. The scent of damp earth and blooming heather surrounded her as the trees twisted above, their branches creating an intricate lattice to let the moonlight spill through.
A few steps into the trees, Elspeth paused, catching her breath. Here, where the moonlight kissed the earth, she felt a rush of energy coursing through her veins, igniting a spark within. Strange feelings surged—visions of her ancestors danced before her eyes, their faces alight with both pride and sorrow. She shook her head, dismissing the sense of foreboding creeping into her heart, and pressed on—a foolish yearning to know the truth of her lineage.
What lay ahead, she could not anticipate. The air thickened with anticipation, and as she crossed a small glade, she came upon a scene that froze her in place. Before her stood a gathering of figures, silhouettes dancing in the moonlight, their movements graceful yet jagged, as though they too were chained by unseen forces. Among them was a man, tall and commanding, his hair a wild tangle that framed a handsome yet feral face. His eyes glowed like embers, and as he caught sight of Elspeth, his expression shifted from surprise to recognition.
“Do you feel it, Elspeth?” he asked, his voice smooth and haunting. “The awakening?”
She stepped back instinctively, heart racing. “Who are you?”
“I am Ewan, the last of the Moonlit Bloodlines. And you? You are one of us, whether you acknowledge it or not.” He gestured around as if unveiling a world hidden from her eyes all her life. The others stepped closer, revealing a spectrum of thrill and hunger in their expressions, a shared bond that pulsed in unison.
“What do you mean?” she managed, though something deep within her already began to whisper the truth she had shunned. The ancient curse that came with the gifts.
“The moon is full, Elspeth,” Ewan said, his gaze piercing. “And tonight, we invite you to join us. To embrace your heritage.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. The stories she scoffed at, the tales that reminded her of her grandmother’s gasps of warning, came rushing back. “You’re telling me I—”
“You are of this bloodline. The call has been within you, waiting to be unleashed beneath the silver light,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
Panic bubbled within her as she turned to bolt, only to find the darkness pooling around, swelling with shadows. She could hear the whispers now, the stories of those who had succumbed to the moon’s power, tales of bloodlust and isolation. But when she looked back to Ewan, the fear melted slightly; something in him stirred a protective instinct buried deep within.
Three others, having circled closer, seemed transfixed by her presence, their eyes glinting in the moonlight. “We are not monsters, Elspeth. We are kin,” spoke a woman with flowing silver hair, whose voice resounded with every note of sincerity. “To deny it is to deny who you are.”
As they closed in, a sudden howl pierced the night, sending tremors of fear racing down her spine. Ewan moved swiftly, wrapping a strong arm around her. “Hear the call, Elspeth. You cannot fight it! Let it awaken you. Whatever you choose, you’ll never be alone again.”
Conflicted, she found herself teetering on the brink. The moon’s glow enveloped her, teasing the primal energy inside. The howl echoed once more, pleading with her to accept what she was. The wind carried scents of earth and pine, exhilarating and intoxicating, awakening something dormant. She closed her eyes, and against all logic, allowed herself to surrender to the pull of the moon.
With that decision came a rush of power, her senses exploding in a riot of colour and sound. She felt the exhilarating surge of energy, and instinctively, she channelled it. Her form shuddered and shifted, and as her vision sharpened, she realised she had transformed, her kin now surrounding her in their new shapes. The guttural growl that escaped her lips was unfamiliar yet exhilarating.
Elspeth had become one with her ancestors, one with the fiends and spirits of the woods that had whispered through the ages. The night was alight with their harmony, each heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the forest. They ran, racing through the trees, racing towards an unfathomable destiny burning in the depths of their blood.
In that moment, every fear, every hesitation danced away into the shadows, and she welcomed the thrill of the hunt—wild, untethered. She was alive, truly alive, with every instinct honed and enhanced, and for the first time, she truly understood the tales of Moonlit Bloodlines—not as a curse, but as a fierce gift, a legacy of strength and unity willing to combat the solitude humans had imparted on them.
Under the watchful moon, they hunted and howled, rallying in a symphony of freedom, marking a new chapter for the bloodlines that stretched far beyond their community, beyond the woods, beyond the village of Eldergrove.
As dawn painted the horizon, the village below remained untouched, unaware of the transformation that had occurred in the woods above. Elspeth, now one with her bloodline, felt the weight of her ancestors at her back—a crashing wave of strength, unity, and purpose echoing through the trees. The moon had blessed her, and she would carry forth the tales of Moonlit Bloodlines, not as whispered secrets in the dark, but as a legacy forged in the fires of acceptance and belonging.
