Chapter 19 / The Red Moon

October 15th, 15.001

Checkpoint Village, Ashveil Desert, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The Red Moon occurs every fourteen months, an astronomical constant since the dawn of recorded time. While the phenomenon is predictable and natural, its effects across races have long elevated it into ritual and legend.

On this night, every vampire must drink blood. Their physiology is bound to the Red Moon’s cycle: a surge of biological resonance reflected through the crimson glow triggers a release of energy within their bodies. Feeding during this night sustains them until the next cycle, allowing them to go the long months without hunger for blood. Skipping it leads to exhaustion, loss of control, and eventually falling into sickness or even death.

For humans, the Red Moon is often treated as an omen of upheaval—wars, plagues, or turning points in history. Among elves, it is a night of heightened spiritual clarity, when visions and meditations are believed to pierce deeper into truth. For vampires, however, it is both a necessity and a trial. Though most could suppress their instincts under ordinary conditions, the Red Moon amplifies hunger, strips away restraint, and magnifies emotional triggers such as pain, love, or jealousy.

Culturally, the Red Moon has become a marker of identity. In vampire enclaves, it is a sacred ritual of renewal, often treated with reverence and ceremony. In mixed settlements, it is a night approached with caution, where taverns close early and guards are doubled. Among mercenaries and soldiers, it is quietly acknowledged as a dangerous liminal night—the fine line between control and surrender written across the sky.

Eloise ran through the narrow paths of the camp, her layered skirt gathered in her hands, breath sharp. The red glow was starting to paint every surface. She found Dominique perched on the van’s capote, legs dangling, eyes fixed on the sky as if the crimson moon were a private performance staged for her alone.

“Here you are.”  Eloise blurted, half out of breath. “What are you going to do?”

Dominique tilted her head lazily, not taking her eyes off the sky. “What do you mean?” 

Eloise pointed at the rising red moon. 

She gave a small shrug. “Ahhh. You mean that. I’ll probably bite Sukira or Sami. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Eloise’s voice came out shriller than she intended. “You talk like—like it's nothing.”

Dominique finally glanced down, brows arched in mild confusion. “Well, isn’t it?”

“No! It's an important event and you are acting like nothing”. Eloise cried. 

“You don’t need to worry, Eloise. There’s no need”, Dominique said with the chillest of tones. 

“I do want to worry,” Eloise snapped, fists clenched at her sides. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, heat prickling her skin.

That made Dominique blink. She slid off the van roof, landing in front of her with infuriating ease. Her grin had softened into something uncertain. “Elo…”

Words tumbled from Eloise before she could stop them. “I hate how careless you are with yourself. You act like nothing bothers, like nothing matters. But it matters to me… You matter to me.”

Dominique’s mouth opened, then closed again, caught off guard.

Eloise pressed on, trembling. “I’m tired of watching you throw yourself at danger, of pretending it doesn’t terrify me. I’ve been dying to understand you, to feel what you feel”.

Dominique was listening to her, but she wouldn’t dare to talk while she was rumbling around in her thoughts. She held Eloise’s hands gently. 

“If you’re going to bite anyone tonight, bite me.”

“Ah?” Dominique studied her, eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and delight. “You’re sure? You’re really sure?”

Eloise nodded, though her throat tightened. “I’m… curious. And I trust you.”

Dominique stepped closer, lifting a hand to Eloise’s shoulder and gently guiding her down until she rested against the van. Eloise shifted her head and pulled away her hair, exposing her neck. 

Dominique smiled and brushed her fingers tenderly on her bare neck.  “I won’t go for your neck. It hurts too much; humans glorify it for some reason, but I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She moved her fingers lower, softly, and touched her chest lightly, above the heart, just at the swell of one breast. 

Eloise’s breath caught, but she didn’t flinch. “Will it hurt?”

Dominique’s grin returned, smaller, softer. “I don’t know…It depends.”

“It depends on what?”, Eloise asked with big, curious puppy eyes.  

“I don’t know things, Eloise. You know me.” She pouted. “I think it has something to do with the chemistry of the bloods of the bitter and the bitten. Check it later on some book”. 

Eloise laughed as she held hands, even closer now. 

Then Dominique bent, brushing away again the long blonde hair of Eloise, lips brushing warm against the elf’s skin before fangs sank in. 

Eloise gasped—but the sharpness melted almost instantly into heat, a strange tenderness that spread through her chest and down her arms. She clutched harder at Dominique’s body, not from pain, but to anchor herself. When it ended, she exhaled shakily, blinking through tears she hadn’t realized were there.

Dominique pulled back at once, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, searching Eloise’s face with rare seriousness. “You okay?”

“Eloise, say something”. 

Eloise’s lips curved into a trembling smile. “It felt like… a warm kiss.”

For once, Dominique didn’t joke. She leaned back a bit, without releasing Eloise’s hands. Relief lit her face, joy quick and unguarded. Eloise, flushed and braver than she’d ever been, leaned to the vampire, closing the gap Dominique had opened seconds ago.  

“Do it again,” she whispered. “Like you did a week ago. In the ruins.”

“You mean… You want me to kiss you?” 

“Please”, she fluttered with her eyes closed.

Dominique froze but for only a heartbeat, then her grin returned—reckless, radiant—and she kissed her.

Sami had been leaning against one of the supply crates, arms crossed, watching the camp dissolve into fragments of private rituals. The red moon made everyone restless—like a slow fever crawling under the skin. Her sharp eyes caught Dominique and Eloise disappearing behind the van, lips too close, hands too tangled for it to be anything but what it was. 

Sami smirked faintly, shaking her head. “Finally,” she muttered, more amused than surprised.

Movement caught her attention—Risha, shuffling out of the infirmary tent, hair mussed from sleep, his small figure framed in the red light. Cloud padded beside him, limping but alert. The boy’s gaze darted across the camp until he spotted her.

“Have you seen Elon?” he asked, voice thin but urgent.

Sami tilted her chin toward the officers’ quarters. “He’s helping with some protection spells. Near the northern entrance. Go look there.”

Risha nodded, determination flickering in his tired eyes. “I need to talk to him.” Without waiting for more, he hurried off, Cloud limping at his heels.

Sami exhaled, watching him vanish. “Kid’s got timing.”

It was then that she noticed the other shadow slipping through the camp’s edge—silent, precise. Sukira. Her steps were too deliberate, too careful. The kind of walk you made when you didn’t want anyone to follow. Sami narrowed her eyes, lips twisting into a dry smile.

“What an idiot,” she whispered, pushing herself off the crate. She didn’t move to stop her, just followed with her gaze as Sukira disappeared toward the treeline, crimson light spilling across everything around them.

The woods pressed cool against her skin, but did little to steady her. Sukira’s steps faltered on the uneven ground, the world tilting just enough to remind her how much blood she’d lost. Every muscle in her body ached from strain, her veins raw with the weight of the crimson glow. The Red Moon was high now, no longer a rising shadow but a full, bleeding eye staring straight through her and every other vampire out there. 

She gritted her teeth and kept walking. Distance—that was all she needed. Distance from the tents, from the smell of blood in bandages, from the pulse of every living vein thrumming too loud in her ears. She had held back her nature for over a century; she would hold it tonight, too. 

Her hand brushed the bark of a tree, nails digging deep just to anchor herself. Her vision blurred, spots of red flashing brighter than the moon above. The hunger twisted at her, fierce and mocking. Not an ordinary thirst, but something raw, primal, magnified tenfold.

“Damn it,” she muttered, pressing her forehead to the wood, forcing herself to breathe. 

The sound of a lighter broke the silence.

“You must be in terrible shape to not notice I was following you.” Jeda’s voice carried easily through the dark, casual but edged. “So, what are we doing here? Are we running away?”.

Her head lifted sharply, her deep, dark red eyes narrowing as he stepped into view, outlined by the red light between the trees.

“I’m not in the mood for your jokes,” she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual steel. 

Jeda stopped a few paces away, hands raised in mock surrender, but his gaze was steady. “Then let’s cut to the chase. Let’s talk seriously.” He tilted his head, measuring her exhaustion, the tremor in her stance. 

“Can you do that?” She asked while keeping her gaze away from him. 

“Can you?” he returned. 

A silence stood between them. 

Jeda’s voice dropped lower, steadier. “Tell me this. Why do you keep refusing him?”

Her eyes flicked toward him, sharp for a moment, then away again. “Elon?”

“Who else?” He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring between them. “He would die for you. You know it. Hell, you already died for him. So why won’t you let yourself… answer him?”

Sukira’s laugh was soft, but it cracked at the edges. “Because if I chose him, he’d never allow me to die.”

Jeda’s brow arched. “Forgive me if I can’t see the problem.”

“It’s the truth.” She finally turned to face him, crimson eyes catching the scarlet light. “I already know I can’t defeat him. I tried. In a fight, and in will. He’s stronger in every sense.” She stopped for a second to catch her breath.  “If I let myself choose him, he’d chain me to survival. He’d rip my mission from my hands before I could see it through.”

The smoke curled between them, Jeda silent for a long beat. Then: “And what about biting him?” His gaze sharpened. “Especially after what you did for him, he could return the favor.”

Sukira’s lips parted, then closed. She hesitated. No answer came.

Oh, that’s new. Jeda exhaled, almost a laugh, but softer, like he pitied her silence. “I get it, tho. He’s just… him. You can’t hurt him.”

“It's odd. But somehow, yes, you got it right,” she said with a soft smile hidden in the shadows of her face. Jeda and Sukira had always shared a practical way of seeing their own emotions that made them feel close; they didn’t need to overexplain themselves to one another.

Jeda flicked ash to the ground, eyes never leaving her.

“Why are you here, Jeda?” She asked him, exhausted. 

“I came here to offer you my heart.” He was dead serious, and she could feel it, sense it, smell it, from miles away. 

Her head snapped toward him, tired but sharp. “Told you I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”

“I told you I’m not joking.” His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “You need blood, I’ll give you mine. Technically, it was my turn; Sunshine can’t complain.”

“I don’t want your heart. I don’t want anybody’s heart.” She replied in the heaviest tone. 

One minute, she is like a soft dying flower, and the next minute, she behaves like a wounded beast. Think, Jeda. She’s clearly losing it, and you are running out of time. 

“Then let me have something in return. We’ll make it an exchange. You won’t owe me anything.”

“What do you want?”

“What I always want.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette glowing between his fingers. “Intel.”

At that, she finally looked directly at him.

“The truth. Your mission. You’ll tell me why you fight like you’ve already chosen to die. I want it all. Every fucking detail you won’t tell anyone else.”

She let out a brittle laugh. “That’s a lot of what you’re asking.”

Her eyes narrowed, crimson flaring with what little strength she had left. “You’ll help me with it. And you’ll keep it to yourself. This will be between me and you and nobody else. Our secret. Or I’ll kill you while you sleep.”

Jeda’s grin broke wide, boyish despite the scar cutting down his jaw. “I was already going to help you. But I’ll admit, I love it when you threaten to kill me.”

That earned him another sharp laugh, though it caught in her throat. She pressed her forehead briefly to her palm, steadying herself. “Fine.”

The red light caught in the woods as her voice grew quieter, stripped of its usual iron. “I don’t remember much of my early years of life. I don’t know why. Someone or something did some harm to my brain. My only clear memory is my mother’s voice, reciting a poem.” She hesitated, almost afraid of saying it aloud. “It spoke of a vampire warrior who once faced Elexi, in the first war of the races. It said Elexi would return. And when it did, the descendant of that warrior would have to fight again—this time with Risha at their side.”

Her gaze cut to him, daring him to laugh.

For once, Jeda didn’t grin. He sat back slowly, lighting another cigarette with the tip of the one before, and began to break it down, piece by piece.

“So you think the warrior who fought Elexi is your bloodline?”

“I know that. Don’t ask me why. I just know.”

“That’s why you think your mission is to die. To finish what the warrior from the legend started.” His eyes narrowed. “And Risha…”

“I always thought that part was a random lie. But since we met Risha, his power… And Vlad’s mission to eliminate every Risha from this world on some Calamity command—”

“Too much coincidence to be just a random lie,” he completed her thought.

Sukira nodded once, silent.

“And Elon,” Jeda continued, voice softer now, “doesn’t fit into that plan, does he? Because he’d never let you throw yourself at that destiny.”

She didn’t answer, but the silence was enough.

Jeda stood up and came closer to her, his presence pressing in, voice lower, rougher. “Listen. I’m not here to replace him. I couldn’t even if I tried. But I am here. So use me. Push him away with me, lean on me instead. I’ll make you fall in love with me along the way.”

She scoffed, weak but sharp. “Told you, love’s off the table.”

His grin returned, slow and wolfish. He reached out, gripping her arm hard enough to steady her without question. “Okay then. Let me rephrase it—I’ll make you forget about him. I’ll try with all my will. And I’ll be here for you to help you with your suicide mission.”

She looked at him with desire, the one that she couldn’t hold anymore. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“I want your tattoo right here.” With a reckless smirk, he shoved her closer, his hand firm, guiding her against him before she could fade away.

The red moonlight pressed hot against her skin. Her throat burned. She moved before she could think better of it, her hand catching on his shoulder as her fangs sank into his neck, her other hand pressing hard on the back of Jeda’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. He didn’t flinch.

She didn’t just drink. She marked him—biting deeper, carving her claim into blood and mana alike. The mark flared hot against his skin, a thorn-shaped heart. She pulled away, blood staining her lips, her eyes half-lidded, hunger sated but body trembling.

Jeda’s hand shot up, cupping her small jaw with rough certainty, his thumb on her lips smearing blood across her cheek as he held her there, close. “You truly have beautiful eyes.” It was the first time he had seen her red gaze without restraint.

Something in her chest cracked open. And when he kissed her, there was no softness—he crushed her against him with both arms, their bodies colliding hard enough to steal breath. It was raw, electric, violent in its honesty: the sealing of a pact. She returned it, not out of romance, but out of certainty. This was different from Elon. This was survival, allegiance, the only person she knew she could trust completely for her mission.

When they finally tore apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, Jeda’s grin was shaky but real.  

The two of them staggered back through the trees toward her tent, the red moon heavy above, the village asleep in uneasy silence.

The tent was quiet except for her breathing. Shallow, uneven, but steady. Sukira had collapsed almost instantly, her body giving in at last.

Jeda lay awake beside her, propped on one elbow. For once, she wasn’t hidden under her clothes, her endless layers. Her body under the sheets was showing her bare pale skin, and there it was—one of the many secrets she’d kept from everyone.

Her back was a map of ink. Marks stacked upon marks, black and red spiraling across muscle and scar. Words, runes, shapes that looked half-military, half-memorial. And at the center, the poem, lines etched in a script so precise it could’ve been written into stone itself:

When war first split the world in flame, a shadow rose, too vast to tame.

Elexi’s hate, a Calamity unbound, fed on blood, on rage it found.

Yet one stood tall, fangs bared to fight,

a warrior born of endless night. 

It struck and did not fall, though death had marked, the warrior faced it all.

The Calamity was sealed, not slain for good,

it swore return, as all Calamities would.  And from its blood a child shall rise,  to face the dark again, with Risha at its side.

Jeda’s rough fingers brushed the ink, tracing the letters almost reverently. She didn’t stir.

You’ve been carrying the weight of saving humanity alone for so long, he thought, jaw tight. He kissed the skin where the poem was. His hand stilled on the thorn-shaped heart that still burned fresh on his own skin.

“Now you’ve got me.” He let out a small smirk. “Like it or not.” 

He stayed there a moment longer, watching the way her messy dark hair spilled across the pillow, before pulling away.

By the time he slipped out of the tent, the night was still and heavy. He hadn’t bothered with his t-shirt, just slung it over his shoulder. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, more habit than hunger.

Oh, shit.

Elon was leaning against a lamppost a few paces away, its glow spilling against his whitish hair. His eyes weren’t on Jeda—they were fixed on the flap of Sukira’s tent.

Jeda let the moment hang between them, the cigarette shifting in his mouth. Then, slow and deliberate, he started pulling on his shirt, then removed the cigarette from his mouth. He held it out halfway toward Elon, his expression unreadable. “Smoke?” No words came out of his mouth, only an expression, and invitation.  

Elon didn’t answer. His stare was still pinned to the tent flap, like he hadn’t even registered the offer.

Jeda clicked his tongue, shifted the cigarette between two fingers, and jerked his chin toward the coast. “Come on. We don’t want to wake anyone up.”

He didn’t wait for agreement. He just started walking, boots crunching against the dirt.

Elon stayed rooted to the lamppost for a long beat, his chest rising in a breath that sounded almost like a growl. Then he pushed off the post and followed, his steps cutting hard into the sand.

They reached the beach from opposite sides of the village wall, converging at the same stretch of shoreline. The sea was restless under the red moon, waves slapping the sand with a hollow rhythm.

Neither spoke until they sat—Jeda dropping himself heavily into the sand, elbows braced on his knees, Elon lowering himself stiffly, posture tight as a reflection of his emotions. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was loaded, like a weapon waiting to go off.

Jeda struck the silence first, his voice flat but carrying. “She drank my blood tonight.”

“I see.” Elon’s head turned sharply, trying to hide his jealousy. 

Jeda tilted his chin, baring the side of his throat where the fresh mark was hidden among the maze of older ink. 

“And she left a mark.”

“...what?” 

The words lodged in his chest like iron. Elon’s face hardened—anger flashing, then draining into something colder, then flashing back again. He lurched up to his feet, sand scattering under his boots.

He didn’t want to believe it, but the tone in Jeda’s voice carried no room for games.

Elon’s hands curled into fists, nails biting his palms. Why him? Why not me? 

Before he realized it, he was already moving. He crouched low, one hand shooting out to Jeda’s collar and jerking him closer, his other hand pushing aside the fabric at his neck.

There it was. A thorn-shaped heart, raw and vivid among the chaos of older ink. Her mark. He just knew it.

Elon was having trouble breathing normally. The air felt too thin and sharp in his lungs. His heart hammered, but his face was stone, only his eyes were different than usual, wide open, as if trying to scan Jeda’s skin for answers.

Jeda didn’t resist; he just let Elon hold him there, their eyes locked, the cigarette hanging forgotten between his fingers.

Elon released him with a shove, staggering back a step. His chest heaved, though his voice came out flat, strangled. “Of course.”

He stood up and moved, boots digging into the sand as he started away from the shoreline. Every muscle screamed to get distance, to cut the thread before it suffocated him.

But after three steps, his legs locked. The sound of the waves roared louder, drowning out his thoughts. His fists trembled at his sides.

He drew in a hard breath, almost like a beast growl, turned back, and returned to the spot. Without a word, he dropped down again—this time with his back pressed against Jeda’s. The weight he put on the man behind him was infuriating. And grounding.

The waves filled the silence between them, steady, relentless. Jeda tilted his head back, leaning on Elon, cigarette rolling between his teeth, unlit but familiar.

After a long beat, his voice came, low and rough-edged. “So… you hate me now, you want to say something, but you don’t want to see my face?” He was pointing out facts: Elon almost punched him in the face after seeing the mark, then tried to leave, but came back just to stay silent without looking at him. 

Elon closed his eyes. The weight of the words pressed down, but his answer came steady, stripped of hesitation. “Yes.”

Jeda let out a short laugh, dry and humorless. “I’d hate me too.” He played with the cigarette in the sand.

Elon’s head tipped back against Jeda’s shoulder blades, his voice quieter, heavier. “But I came back. Because right now I need to talk to a friend.”

That stilled Jeda. “Friend, huh?” His grin faded, his mouth tugging into something sharper, almost pained. “I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.”

They stayed like that: backs pressed together, passing silence and breath between them. From time to time, one tipped his head back onto the other’s shoulder. From time to time, they leaned just enough to catch each other’s corner eye above the curve of their shoulders.

Elon’s voice came at last, stripped down, precise. “In the cocoon, after she collapsed, I saved her, but for the most selfish reason. I was begging her soul not to leave me. Begging like a coward. I kept her alive because I convinced myself that was enough for her to stay with me, to make her mine.”

He paused, eyes fixed on the horizon, tone flat as if cataloging data, but his hand twitched once against his knee, betraying its weight.

“She plays tag with death while the rest of us are having breakfast.” Jeda’s mouth tugged into a bitter grin. “You branded yourself with that resuscitation tattoo because somehow you knew. You prepared yourself, playing God and forgetting you’re just a dude who happens to be in love with a fucking warrior.”

He almost let out a laugh. “Correct.”

The waves filled the silence, restless and loud. Then, without looking at him, Elon added, voice lower: “I told her I loved her. And she smiled at me.” His breath caught; his hand rose to rub the back of his head, almost embarrassed. “Jeda—like, truly smiled. While she was dying in my arms, she smiled.”

“Ugh, wait.” Jeda frowned, dragging his voice in frustration. “I’m not following you. Last time we spoke, you told me you were jealous of that Vlad asshole because he made her smile years ago. Now you did it, too. Why aren’t you happy?”

“Because it wasn’t enough.” Elon’s voice sharpened. “You won.”

Jeda barked a laugh, but it sounded scraped raw. “You’re so fucking stupid, Sunshine.” He tilted his head back, leaning heavier against Elon’s body, eyes on the blood-red sky. “She chose me only because I’m more convenient. And I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever she gives me. The second place in her heart? Damn right I’m in. But don’t kid yourself, I just got the consolation prize; she left it very clear where we both stand.”

Elon’s mouth twitched, his tone breaking through his calm facade for the first time. “And how is it that I have the first place but nothing on my plate?”

That made Jeda laugh for real this time. “You sounded like Risha right there—angry because he can’t play with fire.”

Elon also huffed out a short laugh, exhaustion written all over him.

Jeda lit a cigarette, exhaled slowly, then passed it over to Elon from behind his shoulder. For a moment, his grin faltered into something quieter. Then he shook his head. “I can’t talk about her feelings. Not my place.”

“But I would like to ask you something”. He lit another cigarette for himself. “If, for some reason, you had to decide: her, or humanity itself… what would you choose?”

Elon didn’t hesitate this time. His voice was flat, absolute. “I would choose her.”

The answer hung between them like a blade.

Jeda let out a low chuckle, but his tone was raw, biting. “There’s your answer right there.” He didn’t need to explain further. Elon’s love was the very reason Sukira would never let herself keep him close.

Elon’s gaze dropped to the sand. “How did it feel?”

“Awful.” Jeda tilted his head, rolling the cigarette between his teeth—big smile on his face. 

When a vampire feeds, the reaction is not uniform. Some bodies respond with warmth, euphoria, and fleeting strength, while others recoil—dizziness, pain, or nausea. The difference lies in chemistry: subtle balances of mana, iron, and inherited traits that either harmonize with the vampire’s blood or clash against it.

For some individuals, this is not seen as a coincidence. They call it the match—a sign of compatibility, of alignment between predator and prey. Rational minds will argue it is only biology, a natural reaction between two systems. But centuries of superstition and ritual have elevated it beyond science. A good match is considered destiny, a bond meant to be. A bad one is whispered as a warning: that the pairing is flawed at its core.

It is why Eloise felt only heat and tenderness under Dominique’s bite, while Jeda, under Sukira’s, endured something hard and painful. Rationally, it was a chemical imbalance. Culturally, it meant she had not chosen him—at least, not with her blood.

Elon’s gaze didn’t leave the horizon, but his voice cut through the smoke. “Really? What did you feel?”

Jeda leaned back on his hands, exhaling through his nose. “Like fire under my skin. Not the good kind. Poison. My stomach turned, my blood felt wrong in my veins. Every nerve screamed at me to push her away.”

Elon’s brow furrowed. “And now?”

Jeda tapped the mark on his neck, the thorn-shaped heart burned fresh against older ink. 

“Now it’s different. My body’s running colder in temperature, but somehow I feel stronger. Even the wound I had from yesterday’s fight is completely healed now. I can’t wait to see what happens in the following days.” He smirked, though it was thin. “Useful, but not exactly a dream ride.”

Elon absorbed it in silence, his fingers pressing into the sand. At last, his voice came low, steady. “You sound like you’re glad you did it.”

Jeda laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Happy as hell. Awful as it was, she needed me. And that’s enough for me.”

The tide hissed against the sand, pulling back, pushing forward again. Above them, the Red Moon loomed heavy, its glow stretching the shadows long across the shoreline. The air smelled of salt and iron.

At last, Elon moved, shifting off Jeda’s back and turning. He leaned just enough to look over his shoulder, meeting Jeda’s eyes for the first time since the mark had been revealed. He approached the other man a bit more. His hand lifted, steady but deliberate, fingertips brushing the thorn-shaped heart burned into Jeda’s neck. The touch was almost reverent, a silent acknowledgement of the weight Sukira had left there.

“Thank you,” Elon said simply, voice low but carrying. “For being there. I’d prefer it were me, but… You are the best second option, I know.” He let the faintest smile cut through, dry but real. “Thank you for letting her trust you when she couldn’t lean on me.”

Jeda froze, grin twitching like he didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him. The cigarette bobbed between his fingers, forgotten.

Then he laughed—loud, sharp, almost manic, cutting through the hush of waves. “What the actual fuck, Jeda?” He scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering, “I’m a masochist, there’s no other answer.”

Elon just watched, eyes wide open from surprise, still kneeling before Jeda. 

Jeda dropped back onto the sand, both hands over his face this time. “I was so focused on pushing you away from her, Sunshine. So dead set on making sure you kept your distance. And look at me now.”

He paused, still laughing but hollow. “I pushed myself closer to you instead. And now I’m in love with two people who are in love with each other.”

He threw himself fully onto the sand, staring at the sky above. “This is the worst.”

The sea kept rolling, indifferent. 

“At least,” Elon murmured, “we’re both heartbroken.” He tilted his head back, scanning the village lights behind them. “Let’s find a drink. There’s got to be some kind of alcohol in this place.”

He offered Jeda a hand and pulled him up.

♥︎

They did find alcohol—cheap vodka, hidden behind a desk in the mayor’s tent. The bottle burned, passed between them without words, their backs still damp from the sea air. Two men, enemies-turned-something-else, sharing silence and liquor under a bleeding moon.

Jeda tilted the bottle for another swallow when a shadow cut across the sand. Sami dropped into view, crouching like she’d been there the whole time.

“Thought you lovers might be here.” She snatched the bottle, tipped it back, and hissed through her teeth. “Ugh. Shitty vodka.”

Before either of them could react, she grabbed Jeda’s hand, sank her fangs into his wrist, and drank just enough to make him curse. 

“Fuck, woman—ask next time!” He yanked his hand back, rubbing it. “That’s twice in less than twenty-four hours. I’m gonna start charging.”

Elon gave him the faintest smirk. “You’re popular tonight.”

“Everyone’s favorite donor," Jeda muttered, glaring at Sami while she wiped her mouth on her sleeve like nothing had happened.

“Okay,” she said flatly, as if they’d just finished a card game. “So… tomorrow. La Paz, right?”

Elon and Jeda exchanged a glance, then answered together. 

“Yes.”

The red moon still hung heavy above them, the sea restless, the village asleep. And with that, the first night of many ended.

♥︎