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~ Raveena ~
Humans are a dangerous thing. We destroy, hurt, and rip the world apart with our own hands. We break everything to pieces and expect forgiveness that will never come. And the more we destroy, the harsher the blood moon wars become.
It’s been 80 years since the last blood moon, which means the next one shouldn’t rise for another 20 years. But something is wrong. The air feels… off. The ground trembles beneath my feet. The stars are dimmer. The shadows stretch farther. Even the sky seems darker, bruised with streaks of red like it’s bleeding.
I’ve never experienced a blood moon war, and I never thought I would. I’m only 16, and the next one was supposed to be decades away. But fate is cruel, and now the whispers have started. The war is coming early.
Somehow, despite my age, I’m already considered the best warrior in the living world. I’ve been called a prodigy, a weapon, a queen in waiting. My victories have earned me a title that both haunts and defines me: Interitus. It means destruction. Because that’s what I bring—destruction. It’s in my blood, in my breath, in every strike of my sword.
My coronation is tomorrow—the day I become Queen of Interitus. The day I step into my parents’ shoes and wear a crown heavier than any blade I’ve held.
I’ve been training for seven hours straight. My knuckles are raw, the skin split and bleeding as I strike the wooden training dummy again and again. Pain sharpens my focus. I need to feel it. I need to drown in it, to remember the weight of those I’ve lost. The soldiers who followed me into battle. The lives I couldn’t save.
“You’re going to break your hands if you keep that up.”
I grit my teeth and keep punching. My chest heaves with the effort. I know that voice too well.
“Still at it?”
I turn toward him, breathless, sweat sliding down my temple. Dorian stands at the edge of the room, arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair falls into his eyes, and he’s got that usual infuriating smirk on his face.
“I’m surprised,” he says, stepping closer. “Seven hours? Worried about tomorrow?”
I wipe the blood from my knuckles on my leggings and glare at him. “What do you want, Dorian?”
He shrugs. “Can’t a brother be worried about his sister?”
“No,” I say flatly. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”
“Fine?” His brow arches. “I’d say you’re trying to kill yourself the day before your coronation.”
I walk over to the bench and grab my water flask, sitting down as I take a long sip. Dorian follows, dropping onto the bench beside me.
“Raveena,” he says carefully, and I tense. He rarely calls me by my full name unless he’s about to give one of his ridiculous ‘big brother’ lectures.
“I know what you’re feeling,” he continues. “You don’t want to be Queen because you know everyone will be waiting for you to fall. You think they’ll see you as weak because you’re young, because you’re a girl.” His dark gaze softens. “Prove them wrong.”
I scoff. “Easier said than done. How about you? Feeling guilty about stepping down as eldest and giving this position to your younger sister. Doesn't sound elderly to me.”
His laugh echoes, and he sighs, “You’re Raveena Maria Eirawen,” Dorian says. “You’ve won 30 battles since you were 13. You command a dragon older than most of the kingdoms combined. You’re not weak.” He stands, brushing his hands on his tunic. “And if they doubt you—make them regret it. You did better than I ever could.”
I glance up at him. “You make it sound easy.”
“Because it is,” he says with a grin. “You’re going to be queen whether they like it or not.”
He starts to walk away, but I call after him. “Hey.”
He turns back.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
He gives a small nod and leaves the training room. The heavy doors close behind him with a soft thud.
I stare down at my bloody hands. My muscles ache, my bones feel brittle, but I know I’m not done. I need to be stronger. Because tomorrow, I become queen.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to carry the weight of a kingdom on my back. I’ll have to look into the faces of the lords and commanders and convince them I’m capable. That I’m a ruler they can trust. That I’m not my father, not my mother—but something entirely different.
And when the blood moon rises in 20 years… I will stand between life and death.
I close my eyes, gathering my thoughts.
I'm ready, I whisper.
I wish I believed that truly.
