Beneath the Blood Moon

Every October in the quiet mountain town of Ash Pines, the wind whistled through the trees like a warning. Legend said the forest came alive beneath the blood moon — once every century — and whatever entered didn’t always come back the same. But to seventeen-year-old Rowan Blake, legends were just bedtime stories meant to keep kids from wandering too far.

Until she met him.

The boy with the storm in his eyes.

It began during the last week of October, when the town’s fall carnival rolled in like clockwork, bringing lights, music, and a temporary distraction from Ash Pines’ sleepy routine. Rowan had never been much for fairs — too many people, too much noise — but her best friend, Jada, dragged her along, swearing this year would be different. She was right.

There, at the edge of the Ferris wheel, stood a boy leaning against a ticket booth. Lean, shadowed jaw, dark tousled hair, and a worn leather jacket like he belonged in a different decade. His name was Kai. And the moment Rowan looked into his eyes, she saw something ancient.

Something broken.

And yet, something that knew her.

They talked for hours, slipping away from the fair into the whispering trees. His voice was soft, almost sad. He knew things about the town — things Rowan had only heard in the old stories her grandmother used to whisper by the fireplace. He spoke of the forest, of curses, of monsters beneath human skin.

Rowan laughed.

Until the howls came.

A scream shattered the night.

They ran, branches clawing at their clothes, moonlight trembling above them. And when they reached the clearing near the lake, they saw it. A hulking, twisted creature hunched over a deer carcass, its mouth soaked in red. It wasn’t an animal. It wasn’t human. It was something else entirely — something born of nightmares and old magic.

Kai stepped forward. His body trembled, spine arching unnaturally. Then, before Rowan could scream, his skin shimmered, and he became something else. Not like the creature — more controlled, more beautiful, but still terrifying. A werewolf.

He fought the monster under the blood moon. Claws. Teeth. Snarls. Rowan couldn’t look away. When it was over, Kai staggered toward her, eyes burning silver.

“I told you,” he whispered, “this town has secrets.”

The next morning, Rowan woke in her bed, unsure if it had been a dream. But the claw marks on her jacket said otherwise. So did the ancient leather journal Kai had slipped into her bag — filled with sketches, maps, and warnings written in languages she didn’t recognize.

Ash Pines wasn’t just a sleepy town.

It was a prison.

One built to keep monsters in — and something worse out.

The blood moon had risen. The barrier was weakening. And Kai, cursed with a werewolf’s soul, had returned to stop it from falling.

Rowan should have run. Should have left it to him.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she read the journal. She asked questions. She followed Kai into the heart of the woods, into the dark, into the ruins of an old church where shadows slithered and whispers crawled beneath stone. And somewhere between the danger and the darkness, she fell in love.

Not the easy kind. The kind that hurts. The kind that pulls you closer when you should be running away.

Kai was cursed, yes — but not just with teeth and claws. His heart was cursed too. Anyone he loved was doomed to die under the blood moon, fated to be taken by the ancient hunger that once ruled these woods. His last love hadn’t made it. Her name was Elsie. The forest still remembered her screams.

So when Kai told Rowan to leave, she didn’t.

She kissed him instead.

“You’re not a monster,” she said.

And in her voice, he found something stronger than the curse. Hope.

They trained together. Hunted clues through the town’s buried history. Faced old spirits and escaped death more than once. Rowan discovered she had a connection to the forest too — through her bloodline. Her grandmother had been a Warden of the Pines — one of the last protectors before the barrier fell. And now, it was Rowan’s turn to finish what her family started.

The blood moon rose in full on Halloween night. The town held its carnival again, unaware of the storm building at its edge. Beneath the laughter, beneath the lights, the ground pulsed. Something ancient stirred.

The creature that had escaped the forest wasn’t the only one.

The real monster — the Devourer — had awakened. And it wanted Kai. His soul. His power. His love.

To stop it, Rowan and Kai needed to return to the heart of the forest — to the church ruins — and seal the gate with blood, love, and fire. But the Devourer was waiting. With claws made of shadow and a voice that sounded like every fear Rowan had ever known.

They fought. Together.

Rowan, wielding her grandmother’s silver blade, carved runes into the altar as Kai battled the beast. It nearly killed him. Nearly tore his heart out. But in the final moment, Rowan took his hand, kissed him once more, and whispered the words she found in the journal:

“Love is the oldest magic.”

Light exploded from their joined hands, searing the sky. The Devourer screamed. The forest roared.

Then silence.

When Rowan woke, Kai was gone.

For weeks, she searched. For answers. For signs. For hope. The town remembered nothing — not the monsters, not the blood moon. Just another Halloween.

But Rowan remembered.

And then, one night, as the snow began to fall, she found a letter on her windowsill. Scrawled in Kai’s handwriting:

“The curse broke. But I’m still healing. I’ll come back to you, Rowan. Because you’re not my curse — you’re my cure. Wait for me.”

So she does.

Every full moon, she walks to the edge of the forest. And somewhere beneath the trees, a pair of silver eyes watches back.

Still in love.

Still fighting.

Still theirs.