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Chapter 1 - Prologue 0: The Trinity of Blood

They say when the moon reaches its zenith, it stains the sky crimson—

So red, it scorches fate itself.

Some call it the Blood Moon.

Others call it a curse.

I don't know which one I am.

I've heard voices from dreams I never lived.

I've seen wars I never fought—yet they left scars.

Every time I breathe, something inside me snarls...

as if trying to escape.

No one told me who I am.

No one explained why my shadow bears fangs.

Or why my reflection sometimes shows me another man's eyes.

Only the medallion knows.

...

The ground is cold.

Echoes drip like water through stone.

Footsteps approach, growing louder with each thud—

each heartbeat carving itself into the silence.

And then... he stirs.

That marble-skinned figure—

human in form, but only in semblance.

He knows.

When he awakens... we shall meet again.

...

The sound of those footsteps merges with another memory:

a scream. Sharp. Shattering.

A woman dying.

Beside her, three children.

Sons of a wolf-blooded human woman... and a faceless demon.

One, with violet eyes and a wild spirit, reeked of storm and sulfur.

One, with hollow eyes veiled in velvet black, was the perfect echo of the void—his father, whose hands dripped with liquid shadow.

And the last... his mother's mirror. His hands trembled even in sleep. On his wrists: claw marks that had not yet formed.

He was the other side of the coin.

The price of the pact.

...

Tonight, beneath the sky's white eye, something ancient stirs.

I don't understand it.

But I recognize it—

As if the earth itself holds its breath.

A name burns inside me.

I won't speak it. I won't remember it.

But I will find it.

I will hunt it.

And when I do... it will burn.

...

Just as winter freezes bone,

the seal will shatter.

And when it does, the truth will drag us all down—

like cursed children of a faceless demon,

asleep until Moira, fate, calls them back.

"And then... the moon bled. And I saw those eyes reflected in the puddle at my feet: they belonged to the boy who wept frost. I was him... and he was the beast."

"Blood calls to blood. But where it stops... is this hunt for the beast, or the man it wears like skin?"

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