Chapter 3 Marked By The Full Moon

I buried my face in Silas' chest, soaking his shirt with my dripping hair and clothes.

He murmured something I couldn't understand, rocking us gently back and forth.

"Easy, easy, Elara... It's okay now."

I felt his fingers tangle in my hair as he stroked the damp strands.

His embrace was exactly what I needed—something I hadn't realized until that very moment.

Small clouds of vapor formed in the frigid air with each of my panting breaths.

His hands massaged my feet and ankles, desperately trying to restore my circulation and rub away the sickly, pale color.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

I shook my head, and he didn't press the issue.

That was what I liked about him. We shared a bond, an unspoken agreement not to push each other when the answers were too painful to give.

We spent a long time by the lake. I clung to him, trying to siphon his body heat, while he constantly checked to see if the circulation in my limbs was returning to normal.

"I hope you know you're going to cause a stir when we get home."

He slipped one arm around my back and the other under my knees, lifting me effortlessly off the ground.

"Mom and Dad are going to freak out when they see you like this."

I nodded. My parents were already going to make a scene about me missing curfew, and showing up half-frozen wouldn't help.

Silas didn't say anything else. He carried me in silence down the path and into the empty streets of the village.

The cold still lingered deep in my bones, and I didn't know what else to do to warm up.

I let out a sigh of relief when I spotted our house in the distance, its windows casting a warm orange glow into the night.

When we reached the door, Silas kicked it open, and my family's avalanche of worry began.

"What happened?" my father asked, shooting up from his chair by the fireplace.

"Elara!" My mother's scream cut through the air. "My baby! What happened? You're soaked!"

"Bring as many blankets as you can," Silas ordered, carrying me straight toward the hearth.

I didn't even get to feel the relief of the fire's warmth.

I passed out on the way there, the last thing I registered being the sharp jolt of my head falling back against his shoulder.

As expected, I spent my birthday and the days that followed confined to bed, battling a bout of pneumonia that made every breath leave my chest in a painful wheeze.

Four days later, my appearance hadn't improved much, and a dark part of me hoped it would serve as an excuse so no one would buy me tonight.

My thick black hair was carefully pinned at the nape of my neck with small floral clips. My skin held a lifeless pallor, and deep purple hollows rested beneath my eyes.

"My little girl..." Mom said through her tears, gently pinching my cheeks to force some color into them. "I'm not ready for this moment. None of us are."

My chest tightened with every word. I blinked rapidly, fighting back the urge to cry. Breaking down now would only make everything harder.

"Don't worry, Mom. Maybe I'll get lucky and no one will find me appetizing enough tonight."

My mother stared at me, her red, tear-flooded eyes entirely devoid of humor.

"Whether you like it or not, this is the last night you will spend under our roof." She rested her hands on my shoulders before pulling me into a tight hug. She stroked my back lightly. "Stay healthy—not for them, but for yourself, Elara. Write to us. Tell us somehow that you're still alive."

"I'll try," I replied, though my voice lacked conviction.

Most of us already knew the fate that awaited us once we were bought.

Every vampire was supposed to have a set number of blood feeders based on their rank. No more, no less, as long as the feeders remained healthy and capable of fulfilling their duties.

They were not allowed to harm us, overfeed, or hasten our deaths. But those were just words—hollow laws written by their ancestors and ours to ensure a fragile peace.

In practice, many of them drank to excess. They drained us dry, discarded us, and quickly found replacements—all with the eager collaboration, of course, of the corrupt Crimson Auctions.

Mom left me alone for a few moments. I used the quiet to burn every detail of the room into my memory. For eighteen years, this had been my sanctuary, my place of rest and whispered confessions.

I was wearing the prettiest, newest dress in my closet. The one that squeezed my chest so tightly it made it hard to breathe.

It was made of heavy green velvet embroidered with gold thread, its square neckline deliberately cut to reveal the curve of my breasts. I stood up from the stool in front of the vanity and grabbed my shawl.

Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I involuntarily traced my fingers along the curve of my neck, as if I already knew I would never see it unmarred again. I wrapped the shawl over my shoulders, clutching it tightly to my chest, and left the room.

I walked down the stairs, listening to every familiar creak of the wood, and found my entire family waiting for me at the bottom.

"You look beautiful," Silas said, his eyes shining.

"Elara always looks beautiful." Dad caught my hand the second I stepped off the last stair. He pulled me to his chest, hugging me so fiercely my bones protested.

Even so, I didn't utter a single word of complaint.

I stayed there for a long moment, knowing this would be the last time I'd ever be held in my father's arms.

It was achingly hard to pull away.

"Elara?" a childish voice called out.

My little sister peered up at me from between the adults. Her big honey-colored eyes watched me, wide and frightened. I forced a smile to reassure her. I knelt to hug her, nestling her face against my chest as I stroked her coppery curls.

I was going to miss this so much...

I wouldn't be there to bandage her scraped knees the next time she fell while playing. There would be no more stories by candlelight, and I would never get to see her smile over her first crush.

Our parents watched the scene with pure anguish. Silas joined the hug, wrapping his arms around us, trying to shield us from the world with the sheer span of his body.

I inhaled the familiar scent of home, swallowing hard to hold back my tears.

The sudden toll of a bell shattered the silence.

The Crimson Auction was officially open to receive us.

Each heavy chime fell over us like a bucket of ice water.

Mom grabbed Abigail's hand, and my father offered his arm to escort me.

Silas stood to my right and pulled the front door open, letting in a harsh gust of icy air.

We all held our breath for a split second before stepping out into the night.

The street was completely empty, though dozens of pairs of eyes watched us from behind drawn curtains and dark windows.

Every full moon was a grim event. The villagers watched from the safety of their homes with shivers and heavy hearts, because every time a girl walked toward the Crimson Auction, it served as a brutal reminder of what would inevitably happen to their own families. And we weren't alone.

Tonight, the exact same auction was taking place in hundreds of other cursed villages just like ours.