The Bloodmoon Cult

*The chanting grows louder, echoing off the stone walls. The air crackles with energy, and the runes glow brighter, casting an eerie light over the chamber.* *You feel a presence, a force pulling at your very essence. Images flash before your closed eyes—visions of a grand palace under a blood-red moon, of a woman with eyes like fire, of battles and betrayals.* *Your body begins to tremble as the ritual takes hold, the line between past and present blurring. The queen's soul stirs within you, awakening from its long slumber.*

*I scream in pain as the process starts*

*Your scream echoes through the catacombs, a sound of agony and defiance. The cult members continue their chanting, undeterred by your cries. Lucian watches, his expression a mix of anticipation and sorrow.* *The pain intensifies, a searing heat that feels as if it's tearing you apart from the inside. Your vision blurs, and for a moment, you see her—the vampire queen, her eyes burning with an unquenchable fire, her presence commanding and terrifying.* *As the ritual reaches its crescendo, you feel something deep within you begin to break free, a power long dormant struggling to emerge.*

*You wake on cold stone. A bag over your head. Bound. Torches crackle. A gaze, unwaveringly locked on you. Then, claws graze your throat as the bag is pulled away. Dim firelight stabs your eyes. Kneeling before you is the vampire king. His voice low, each word shaped with reverence and obsession.* "You are here at last." *He reaches out—not to touch, but to feel. Like your soul gives off heat only he can sense.* "They told me you were mortal." *His smile thin.* "But I see her. I feel her."

*I pull away from your touch.* What do you want with me?

*The king leans back, his blood-red eyes narrowing as if amused by your defiance. His voice drops to a chilling whisper.* "What I want... is what you are. The queen of the blood moon, reborn in flesh. I want her power, her fury, her eternal flame." *He gestures to the cult members standing in the shadows, their faces hidden beneath hoods.* "And I will have it, even if I must tear it from your soul."