Chapter 12
1159words
In the temple square, vampires in crimson cloaks mingled freely with fur-clad werewolves. Tovak's cane bore a wreath of woven Moonflowers, while Lady Victoria's silver hair was crowned with pale blue hyacinths—a werewolf gift said to "bring peace when kissed by moonlight."
I stood on the temple steps, cradling the three-hundred-year-old Blood Moon Oath in my arms.
The ancient parchment rested in a crystal case, its blood moon engravings mirroring the crimson orb hanging in the night sky.
Leicester stood beside me, his crimson cloak draped protectively around my shoulders. His chest, now free of the Blood Curse's mark, rose and fell with easy breaths. His eyes, still crimson but soft with tenderness, reflected the moon we'd awaited so long—no longer a harbinger of hatred, but a witness to healing.
"Today, we honor the old oath and forge a new covenant." My voice, carried by Contract Magic, reached every corner of the square—no longer sharp with vengeance but steady with purpose. "Three centuries ago, our ancestors swore to guard the abyss together. Today, beneath this blood moon, we carve our promise of mutual prosperity."
The temple doors swung open, revealing a jade platform crafted by artisans from both peoples—werewolves had carved intricate bone staff patterns while vampires had inlaid blood jade fragments. At its center gleamed four characters meaning "Unity and Harmony." Leicester took the crystal case from my hands and placed it reverently on the platform. "The old oath isn't a burden," he said, "but a reminder that peace requires vigilance."
Lucas approached, bearing a bronze box containing a ceremonial silver knife. One half of its blade featured beast patterns forged by werewolf smiths; the other half, blood patterns crafted by vampire artisans.
I took the knife, activating Contract Magic with a touch. The blade moved as if guided by invisible hands, carving our new covenant into the temple wall: "Vampires shall not take life without necessity; violators forfeit noble standing. Werewolves shall not raid settlements; violators face exile. The crown shall compensate both peoples with three years' tax revenue to rebuild what was destroyed."
As I carved the final stroke, Leicester and Lucas stepped forward together, placing their right hands—one pale, one calloused—against the freshly engraved stone. "I, Leicester Valerian, swear by the vampire royal bloodline to end centuries of grievance and safeguard our peoples' coexistence." Leicester's voice rang with solemn joy. Lucas pressed his hand atop Leicester's, tapping his bone staff against stone. "I, Lucas Grayclaw, swear by the wolf tribe's honor to abandon ancient hatreds and stand as guardians of this shared land."
Applause thundered through the square. Tovak and Lady Victoria exchanged smiles, raising ceremonial bowls filled with werewolf fruit wine mixed with vampire blood honey—a drink sweet as moonlight itself. As I lifted my own bowl, a flutter stirred in my abdomen, gentle as a butterfly's wing. Leicester steadied me instantly, alarm flashing in his eyes. "What is it?"
I pressed a hand to my belly, meeting his gaze as tears sprang to my eyes. "Leicester… we're having a child."
My words carried across the suddenly silent square. A heartbeat later, cheers erupted with renewed fervor.
A small werewolf girl darted forward, offering me a handful of wildflowers. "Lady Isabella, will your baby be gentle like the moon?"
I knelt, taking a bloom and tucking it behind her ear. "Yes, little one. Brave and kind—like the best of both our peoples."
Leicester knelt beside me, his palm resting gently on my belly. His voice softened to a whisper, as if speaking to our child directly. "This little one will be the perfect symbol of our peace—human warmth and vampire protection in one beating heart."
Time flowed like moonlight on water, and five years passed in what seemed a heartbeat.
I stood in a sea of moonlit blossoms, fingertips caressing pale purple petals. This garden was my creation—vampire moonlight dew nourishing plants grown in rich werewolf soil. The flowers bloomed with each blood moon, drawing children from both peoples to play among their fragrant stems.
Footsteps approached from behind. Leicester appeared, our son Aaron perched in his arms. The boy clutched a freshly picked hyacinth, golden pollen dusting his cheeks.
"Mom! Uncle Lucas is teaching the wolf cubs about herbs today," Aaron announced. His eyes—Leicester's crimson softened to ruby—sparkled with childish excitement. He reached up to tuck the hyacinth into my hair. "He's taking them to the Repentance Monument too. Says Grandpa's story is written there."
I smiled, gazing toward the horizon where the Peace Temple's white pillars gleamed in sunlight. Nearby stood the Repentance Monument, now softened by climbing ivy. Father still tended the gardens surrounding it, his once-proud back now permanently bent with labor and regret.
Every day for five years, he had come to polish the inscriptions until they shone. Often he would gather passing children, telling them how "pride leads to folly, and true strength lies in admitting one's wrongs."
In the plaza, werewolf and vampire children chased butterflies together. Little Lillian, a werewolf girl with amber eyes, pursued a blue butterfly with her net until she stumbled near a vampire boy. He steadied her with a smile, adjusting her grip on the net. "Careful," he cautioned. "Don't damage its wings."
The scene brought me back to that blood moon ceremony five years ago. We'd wondered if peace could endure. Now I knew—children's innocent friendships were the strongest foundation any treaty could have.
Leicester withdrew a Blood Jade Ring from his pocket, sliding it onto my free hand.
Aaron's name was engraved on its surface, the characters catching light beside my bronze wedding band.
"Tonight's blood moon marks Aaron's first Contract Magic," Leicester said proudly. "The temple records will note his achievement."
I leaned against Leicester's chest, watching Aaron race with the other children through the flower field. In the distance, Father's voice carried as he shared stories with attentive young listeners. The bronze ring and Blood Jade Ring warmed against my skin, pulsing like twin heartbeats.
The blood moon began its ascent, casting crimson light across the flower field, the temple, and the monument—linking past repentance, present peace, and future promise in one unbroken line.
"Look," Leicester murmured, his chin resting atop my head. "The 'power of protection' your mother spoke of—we've finally realized it."
I nodded, watching Aaron wave his flower toward us. The best ending, I realized, was never the hollow satisfaction of revenge, but peace growing from hatred's ashes. True eternity wasn't immortality's lonely burden, but sharing each blood moon, each flowering season, each child's laughter with those we love and the community we've built together.
Blood moonlight illuminated the New Covenant's stone wall, where the characters for "Unity Eternal" gleamed like a promise carved not just in stone, but in the hearts of two peoples who had learned that together, they were stronger than their ancient hatreds.
