Bound by Blood and Moonlight

“Calm down, both of you!”

Coprius and Rani halt in their bickering.

It’s rare to see the head of the vampire clan or the leader of the werewolf pack take orders from anyone. They are in charge. Each respective kingdom does not breathe unless its leader requests it.

Rare. Until now.

A puff of smoke appears between the two. As it clears out, Elder Malori takes form.

“You are the one who brought us both here?” Coprius raises an eyebrow and takes two measured steps back.

Rani‌ does not back down and keeps his eyes trained on the creature across from him, skin as cold as ice.

“I did.” Malori starts as he circles the two, “I’ve waited in this hall, this place where our ancestors once gathered, watching you two, both leaders of the strongest beings in existence, argue over petty grievances.”

They are in the chapel built by ancestors of both werewolves and vampires. It was built as a symbol of peace and unity. On every new moon, their ancestors would sit and complete rituals for new pups and first drinks.

Now it is collecting dust, wood wilting because it has not been in use.

Petty protests about the moon having favorites and harmful pranks have not only fueled this growing feud but also allowed a great evil to interfere.

Coprius and Rani might only see each other as mere enemies, but Elder Malori sees more. As one of the oldest members of the supernatural world, he has the abilities of an overseer, allowing him to see fragments of the future. He has seen enough to know the danger their feud poses to the supernatural world as a whole.

“What do you expect?” Rani growls, his fists clenching.

Malori is back in his original spot between the two.

“I expect you both, as leaders, to be an example for your people. If you two fight, then what will those who follow you do?”

The silence between them is thick. Malori raises a hand, and an orange mist appears, swirling like smoke between his fingers. At last, Rani breaks his stare with Coprius, his attention captured by the elder’s conjuring.

“Look.” Malori gestures. Within the mist, images from a shared history between two once-allied clans show. Noctura, the land of the supernatural, blooms brightly. Plenty of wild animals, such as rabbits, geese, and deer, run freely.

Werewolves and vampires dance in joy and celebration.

United.

Together.

The images continue until a divide splits them apart, cutting straight down the middle.

“This is where we stand now,” Malori says, his tone heavy. “Divided.”

Rani glances at Coprius, and for a moment, the tension in his stance eases. The acknowledgement is brief. He sighs, looking back at Malori. “We know this, Elder.”

“But do you see this?” Malori lifts a bony finger, pointing into the misty vision he’s conjured. A small black shadow snakes its way through the crowd of spectral figures.

“What is that, Malori?” Coprius’s usually steely blue eyes widen, displaying a flicker of fear.

Malori groans suddenly, clutching his head, as though struck by an unseen force—his frail body trembles.

“Elder?” Rani’s usual aggression fades as he moves closer, placing a steadying hand on Malori’s back. Both leaders take turns calling the elder’s name. Yet, he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his face contorts as both hands rise, struggling to control the vision. His eyes go pitch-black, hollow, and unreadable.

Coprius instinctively darts backward, while Rani lets out a low, menacing growl.

“That is the real danger...” Malori’s voice emerges. It’s fractured and distorted—like multiple voices layered atop one another. “There is an unknown darkness on its way. It has broken into our land.”

“How is this possible?” Rani’s voice thunders, almost shaking the room.

“Who is responsible?” Coprius paces, his fangs bared, wanting to quench his thirst with the blood of this unknown darkness.

“You two. The species you rule over. Every single one of us is responsible,” Malori hisses. “They are using our separation to break through.”

“What must we do?” Coprius’s voice cracks with a note of desperation, uncharacteristic for the Vampire King. Malori’s body convulses, his limbs shuddering as his eyes darken further, turning obsidian. Both leaders trade looks, their fear no longer directed at each other. Instead, at the shadowed threat that looms over them.

“You must come to an agreement!”

“An agreement? Of what kind?” Rani leans closer. His tone is urgent, ears pricked and alert.

“Spoken words cannot hold back our enemies.” Coprius’s voice is hard, though his gaze meets Rani’s, his dark blue eyes intense. “How could a mere agreement save us?”

A sudden, sharp cracking sound fills the room as the chapel’s stained glass windows crack.

Malori laughs—a sinister, empty sound that fills the ancient hall. “It’s already beginning! Don’t you see?”

Black tears seep from Malori’s eyes, trailing down his gaunt cheeks like ink. He snaps his fingers, and a long scroll appears in the air before them, glowing faintly. The paper’s bright hue shows its new age.

The ink glows a deep crimson as if it were freshly drawn blood.

Words echo through the chapel, their weight settling heavily over the two leaders:

Mutual agreement to share resources.

Limited travel to the human realm.

The formation of a supernatural council.

And above all,no mixed-species relationships.

Suddenly, the vision cloud bursts, and small fires ignite, spreading like wild spirits across the walls, ceiling, and podium. The flames consume the once-sacred space, hungrily devouring every surface.

Elder Malori collapses, his frail body crumpling to the floor. Yet, even in his weakened state, his hand remains raised, trembling, “I beg you,” he rasps. “Sign the agreement and bind us once more. We may never be what we once were. Yet, safe we will be.”

Rani, the alpha, cracks first. “I’ll sign!” He steps forward, pricking his palm with a claw and pressing it against the parchment—blood splatters on the ancient agreement, which glows faintly as if only half-awakened.

Coprius hesitates, his gaze flickering between the agreement and the surrounding chaos. “What if we cannot keep these laws? What if—”

“What if we could make our kingdoms great again?” Rani interrupts, his voice steady, challenging. “The elder is right. We have done poorly as leaders. I won’t let my son inherit this mess. Sign it, Coprius!”

“Sign it!” Malori’s voice joins Rani’s, weak but insistent. All around them, the chapel groans, timbers splintering under the force of the flames.

Finally, Coprius releases a low, guttural groan. With a swift, decisive moment, he uses his fangs to slice his wrist, holding it long enough to bleed before the healing can seal it. Pressing his wrist to the parchment, he lets the crimson blood flow, watching as the magic within the paper flares to life, accepting his bond.

Blood still trickling down their hands, the two leaders grasp each other’s palms in a fierce, solemn shake.

Malori sighs, his body slackening. “Now go. Keep your promises... bring me peace.” His voice fades, and he won’t be leaving this place alive.

Rani takes a step toward him, but Malori’s frail hand raises once more in protest.

“No! Leave me to rest.”

Coprius, fully healed, wastes no time. He’s gone in a blur, disappearing from the chapel in an instant, the flames left behind casting flickering shadows.

Rani mutters under his breath. “Typical. Bloodsuckers don’t have hearts.” Even as he says it, sorrow creases his features. Malori coughs, each breath weaker than the last.

The fires intensify, and the chapel crumbles. Rani lets out a powerful, mournful howl, a lament that echoes through the space. As he shifts into his wolf form, his massive frame surges with strength, breaking through the crumbling stone as he crashes out of the burning ruins.

Pausing outside, he looks back one last time, howling in sorrow for the elder who gave everything to protect them.

As Malori lies on the cold stone, he knows his vision will outlive him. He can feel Rani racing in one direction, and Coprius in another. They will remain divided.

Or so they believe.

“Yes... It is quite clear,” Malori murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

With a last gesture, he raises his hand, weak but purposeful, and breathes softly over the splotch of mingled blood on the ground—the blood of the two leaders, the mark of their reluctant unity. This blood, shared by the most powerful of species, now forms a bond stronger than any mere promise.

As the elder’s breath touches it, a shimmering force shield blooms around the bloodstain, casting a warm glow that resists the flames consuming the chapel. Though the sanctuary crumbles around it, the stain remains untouched, shielded from ruin. A representation of the unbreakable, though reluctantly formed, bond.

Outside, Rani and Coprius vanish into the darkness, their minds clouded with doubts and unspoken fears.

Malori is at peace. He knows that tonight, they created more than a fragile truce—they forged a connection, a bond that would tie the fates of their kind together for generations to come.

A bond not easily broken.

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