Under the Red Moon

A bloody, full moon hung low in the night sky, drawing wicked shadows across Peros, the city of love. Tryst lay dead under a balcony in the flower garden behind the mayor’s villa, a bouquet of black roses gripped tight in his left hand and an empty vial in the other. Thorns pierced his palm, though his blood stopped flowing hours ago.

Then he gasped to life.

Pain.

Tryst thrashed about, screaming. Why was he alive? Why was he away from her? Darkness. All he saw was darkness. And the whispers—they spoke horrible, inescapable truths directly into his mind. Why was he alive?

“Hold on,” said a woman’s voice, cutting through the chaos.

Tryst howled, clawing at his ears. The whispers. Someone, please—make them stop, he thought. Please! 

Tryst felt a hand press against his chest and… nothing. 

Chaos reigned. He screamed for what felt like years; the voices pulled at his sanity, dragging him deeper into the void. 

A green ember flickered to life in the darkness behind his eyes. Then it burst into a great emerald fireball. Tendril-like shadows flailed out from the dark corners of Tryst’s mind before burning away. The fireball shrank, leaving behind a warm, comforting light.

The whispers stopped. The darkness receded from his eyes and Tryst could see. Above him, Kerobus burned like a lump of coal set against a starless night sky, as it did every Eve-Night. 

A young woman wearing a pointed hat stepped into view, eclipsing the massive red moon. Smoke trickled from the corners of her smoldering green eyes and sweat covered her round face. She beamed down at Tryst.

“Who—?” he asked, voice failing.

“Easy there,” she said, removing the roses from his hand. “My name is Kaela and I’m a Necrolord. You’ve been raised for a noble purpose! Uh—what’s your name?”

“Kill… me,” Tryst gasped.

“You see, Kilmi, you are to become my champion. Together, we’re going to kill Death, tonight.”

###

Death littered the streets of Peros. No one stirred, no one drew breath, no hearts beat. Everyone in the city of love lay still with their eyes burned out, leaving only scorched sockets; their mouths hung sickeningly low, jaws dislocated—save for two people. 

Tryst burst through the front door of the mayor’s villa, his heart racing. “Yulisa!” he shouted.

“Kilmi,” Kaela yelled from behind. “There’s no one left alive. I’m sorry but we must—”

“My name is Tryst!” he snapped at her. “And what I must do is find Yulisa.” He dashed across the grand foyer, headed for the double staircase leading upstairs to the bedchambers.

“Tryst, wait! We must speak!”

He ignored her. If I’m alive, then the poison must have been too weak, he thought. By Kerobus, I’ll wring Gepo’s old neck when I see him. “Yulisa!”

THARASH!

Tryst froze in place; his muscles spasmed and twitched until his body stood still. He could breathe and blink, but couldn’t speak. Panic seized him by the throat. Was he dying? What—

“I’m sorry, Tryst,” Kaela said, stepping around to face him. “I detest binding wills, but I must explain, fully, why I’ve raised you. Once done, I’ll release you and never bind you again. Together, we’ll find your Yulisa. I swear this on my immortal soul. Blink once if you accept, twice if not.”

Tryst blinked once.

“Thank you," she said. "I’ll be quick. The duke you pay tribute to, Xarius, is a mad Necrolord named Rakuul. He murdered the members of our order and intends to claim the powers of Death for himself, tonight.”

Tryst’s eyes went wide. She can’t be serious, he thought.

“I am serious,” she said. “While you're bound, I can hear your thoughts. I’ll continue—I cannot allow Rakuul to ascend. He’d make a slave of the living. Man, beast, plant, all of it. With the powers of Death, he could do it.”

I don’t believe this, Tryst thought.

Kaela stared him right in the eye. “I no longer have the strength to do it alone, but you do. You must choose it, you must accept my gift. Rakuul intends to summon Death at midnight, on the dawn of the New Year. If we act, it must be now. I will release you.”

“SHARATH,” Kaela said, her eyes flaring a brilliant green.

Tryst’s muscles caught up to overdue commands and fell forward limp. Kaela caught him and helped him sit on the steps while he recovered. She took a seat beside him and waited in silence.

After a long moment, Tryst looked up to Kaela. “I was really dead, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I can’t help you."

“Oh, no?” Kaela said. “I disagree, my champ—Tryst. You, in fact, are the only person who can help me.”

“I—I’m no ally to life. I turned to death. Yulisa was noblesse, and I… wasn't. They forbade our love. In the end, we decided…”

“That there was no room in life for your love,” Kaela finished.

“Yes, in a manner of words,” Tryst said, his voice growing hard. “Now, I’m here. I left her in the void, alone. I swore we'd be together... and you took me from her.”

Kaela rose. “Tryst... There is something else you must know—”

The doors to the villa burst open. 

Three abominations on four legs, like wolves made of bone and sinew with burning green eyes, skidded to a stop in the foyer, wicked claws raking the marble floors. 

Their growls resonated through Tryst’s chest, rattling him to the core. He was suddenly covered in sweat. “What are—?”

“Rothounds!” Kaela shouted. “Run!” 

###

“Turn right!” Tryst shouted as they reached the top of the staircase. Together, they dashed down the candle-lit hallway, past lifeless servants and members of the Stiglia household. The villa dwarfed the surrounding buildings, but, despite its size, Tryst managed to lead them to Yulisa’s chamber at the end of the east wing. 

Tryst slammed the thick wooden door shut behind them, then scrambled to push an armoire in place as a barricade.

“Good instincts, but it won’t matter,” Kaela said, digging through her bag. “They’ll chew right through it.”

Tryst stopped, though he pushed the tall wardrobe nearly in position. 

“What were those? Demons?” he asked, panting.

“Rothounds,” she replied. “Rakuul’s minions. They slaughtered the citizens of Peros.”

Tryst turned from the half-barricaded chamber door and scanned the enormous chamber. He recognized a still figure and fell to his knees. 

Laying on a velvet chaise lounge was Yulisa, eyes burned out and jaw hanging sickeningly low. Her red Eve-Night gown was torn to shreds, as was the flesh underneath. At the foot of the couch was the equally tattered corpse of a man Tryst recognized as Diago, a wealthy merchant’s son.

“Yu-Yulisa…” Tryst said.

Something slammed against the chamber door, rattling the frame. Tryst could hear several Rothounds growling from the other side, then, the door rotted. Patches festered and bubbled, like fruit spoiling in the sun, leaving gaping holes in the wood. 

Kaela dashed for the door and began working her power. Emerald fire swirled around her and gathered into an orb floating above her outstretched hand, palm up. “Tryst! Get back!”

He scrambled toward the couch, crawled over Diago’s corpse, and threw himself over Yulisa's body. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I—”

“KOLARYS!” Kaela yelled. The orb fired a howling beam of spiraling green energy, drowning the room in a terrible glow, then the beam winked out of existence. All that remained was a massive, smoldering hole in the wall where the door once was. 

“Incredible…” Tryst said.

Kaela wiped her brow. “I think I got them—”

A lone Rothound leaped through the hole and tackled her to the ground.

“Kaela!” Tryst yelled.

Kaela brought her arms up in a cross position, working her power into her arms. But before she could finish her spell, the Rothound seized her arms in its hand-like claws and pinned them down to the floor. It let out another rumbling growl then opened its drooling maw. It was all teeth and viscera. It lurched its head back and—

Tryst tackled the Rothound off Kaela. Together, they flew through the scorched hole and landed on the still-smoldering remains of the other two Rothounds.

Stars filled Tryst’s vision, but he shook off the daze and scrambled to his feet. “You can’t have her,” he said to the Rothound.

The Rothound leaped for Tryst and stopped. It hung, suspended in midair, outlined with a humming green light. Tryst turned and saw Kaela, huffing and torn, her hands locked in a grasping gesture. Her eyes burned, but not as bright as a few moments ago. 

“Tryst,” she said. “I—I can’t hold it for much. Longer. You can destroy it if you accept my power—” she coughed up dark blood. “You must choose.”

"You have to save Yulisa,” Tryst said.

“Tryst. I can’t—”

“I accept your offer. I’ll be your champion.”

Tryst exploded in power, green energy swirled around him, and suddenly he knew a language he’d never heard before tonight. He didn’t learn it. To Tryst, it was as if he always spoke the Language of the Dead, but only remembered just now.

The swirling power dissipated, and Tryst stood, his eyes burning with green necrotic energy.

“Speak the word of flames!” Kaela gasped.

Tryst stretched out his hand towards the Rothound and spoke his first word. “Kolarys.”

The Rothound burst alight, wicked green flames scorched sinew and brazed bones, and in moments ash fell to the hallway floor. The hallway, remarkably, did not burn, unmarred by the necrotic flames. The light faded from his eyes.

“I can’t believe—Did I do that?”

“Excellent work,” Kaela said. “My champ—” She collapsed. 

###

Tryst had no training as a surgeon. Nor was he trained as a battle-medic, as he couldn’t afford his own equipment—a requirement for enlistment in the citizen army. But his brother was a pit brawler and made enough to support their household, ever since their parents died to plague in their youth. Tryst was no brawler, but he learned to tend to his brother’s injuries, to stitch gashes, and set broken bones. 

He thought on those familiar wounds, as nothing else made sense anymore. A few hours ago, he swore he’d seen his last full moon, his last Eve-Night, his last glimpse of Yulisa. Now… he inspected the festering slashes across Kaela’s arms and stomach.

“Kaela? Stay with me,” he said, wrapping torn linens around her arms and stomach. “We need to treat these wounds. Do you have any salves in your bag?”

“Can’t,” she said. She’d grown delirious in the minutes after the attack and was covered in a cold sweat. “ Cursed wounds. Fester… forever. Must. Stop Rakuul.”

“We’re going to heal you,” he said, dabbing her forehead with his sleeve. “You have to kill Death, right? And I need your help to save Yulisa.”

He looked up to her ravaged body, still on the couch, Diago still at her feet and next to him… a small vial? It was full of a red liquid. But that can’t be… 

Kaela launched into a coughing fit, her face growing gaunt and pale, despite her dark complexion.

“I’m taking you to Gepo’s," he said. "He’s the crazy old sage in the North Woods that sold me the—It doesn’t matter. It’s a half-hour from here, I’ll carry you. He’ll know what to do.”

Kaela mumbled too low for Tryst to make out; sweat poured from her face. She must be suffering from a powerful fever, he thought. There wasn’t time. There might be more of those Rothounds out there, but he’d have to deal with them as they came.

Tryst took the red vial from the foot of Yulisa’s chair and pocketed it. He kissed her on the forehead, then ran over and lifted Kaela in his arms. 

“You’d better be alive, Gepo.”

###

The Reinard forest to the north of Peros was littered with hunting trails. Trading posts were common, and hermits made their home in scattered cabins. One such hermit was Gepo, the mad sage, an alchemist exiled to the woods—though, for what, he never said.

Tryst trudged into the forest clearing, his clothes tattered, and his energy drained after burning away several Rothounds during the trek. 

He stumbled to Gepo’s front door and slowly lowered Kaela down to the ground. Her breathing was ragged but her wounds stopped bleeding. 

“Just hold on,” Tryst said. He banged on the cabin door. “Gepo! Wake up, you old bastard! It’s Tryst!”

There was no response.

“Gepo!” He banged on the door again.

“Hello, boy,” said a voice from behind. 

Tryst spun around and saw an old man in a gray robe holding a lantern in one hand and an oak staff in the other. His bare scalp glistened in the red moonlight, and his wispy beard did little to hide his crooked grin.

“Gepo,” Tryst said. “Where did you come from?”

“I could ask you the same. Didn’t come for a refund, did you?” He looked down at Kaela’s unconscious figure. “Oh—what’s this?”

“She’s—” Tryst stopped himself. “She’s a friend. She’s hurt, Gepo. I think her wounds are infected. I need your help.”

The old sage lurched over to Kaela, grunted, then opened his door. “Bring her inside. She’s on death’s door. Perhaps we can keep it shut, though I’m not confident, young lover.”

###

Inside, several herbs hung from racks along the walls. Organs and small creatures floated in jars, and the whole place smelled of mildew. 

“Put her there,” Gepo said, pointing to a straw bed. He went to his wall and ran his fingers through herb bundles, muttering to himself.

Tryst stood by the front door, peeking out the window shutters for any signs of Rothounds.

“No wolves around here, boy,” Gepo said.

“Not worried about wolves,” Tryst said. I’m worried about—”

“What?” Gepo asked.

A realization twisted to life in Trysts stomach.

“Gepo, how did you avoid the Rothounds?”

“What in Kerobus is a Rothound?” Gepo asked.

It’s possible I destroyed the Rothounds in the area on my way here, he thought. Still… “Nothing, forget it. Can you help her?”

“Possible,” Gepo said over his shoulder. He turned, holding several bundles of herbs, then hunched over to a table with a mortar and pestle, and set about grinding them. “I’m going to need Tuvia root. They grow along the riverbed, not too far from here. You must be quick about it. Take my lantern—”

“No,” Kaela gasped. "Don't—"

“Kaela!” Tryst yelled.

“She's dying you fool,” Gepo said. "Go! Before the rot takes her.”

“Fine, I’ll be right back,” Tryst said. He took the lantern from the hook on the wall and reached for the door. He pulled it open and found a pack of Rothounds waiting for him.

He slammed the door shut. “Damn it!”

“Shame about Yulisa,” Gepo said from behind. 

Tryst whipped around. Gepo held a long jagged blade to Kaela’s neck.

“It seems she didn’t join you,” Gepo continued, his voice dripping in vitriol. “What a pity. Master’s hounds reached her, just like the rest of Peros. They consume souls, did you know? They leave their victims twisted and broken. They must be alive, however. You understand?”

Tryst held up the vial of poison, Julisa’s vial. She betrayed him. Yulisa left him to the void.

He slumped against the door, Rothounds rumbling on the other side.

“I can give you what you want,” Gepo said. “All you have to do is give me your power.”

“Tryst,” Kaela groaned.

“Silence, traitor!” Gepo shouted. He looked back to Tryst. “I can send you to her, to your Yulisa. She is in the Hungering Maw, the place all souls go when consumed. Give me the power and I'll send you.”

The cabin door rotted. 

Tryst couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Why was he alive? What did—

“THARASH LOCH,” Kaela yelled.

Then everything stopped.

Tryst stood in the darkness that nearly consumed his sanity at the moment of his revival. A green flame roared before him, bathing him in warmth. 

“We have little time,” Kaela said. “Though what else is new?”

“Kaela?” Tryst asked. He looked around and couldn’t see her.

“Here,” she said. “Look at the flame.”

It pulsed, and Tryst realized the voice was coming from the fire.

“Tryst, I’m dying. I used the last of my essence to bridge our minds, but the connection won't last long.”

“Yulisa, she—”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t be alive—”

“No. And yet, you are.”

“I’m a fool. I—”

“I’ve been searching for centuries, Tryst, for someone I could bequeath my power. I couldn’t believe it when I found you. I was overjoyed. This consummate romantic, dead by his own hand. You are a fool, but that’s why you’re alive. Rothounds can't eat the souls of corpses... only the living.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No. I’m desperate, Tryst.”

He stopped. “What?”

“I was young. I found Rakuul in a village while traveling through the Boglands. He was brilliant, for a mortal. He swore to love me if I gifted him immortality. I thought—I thought we’d unravel the mysteries of death together. I was a fool.”

“He… left you,” Tryst said.

“Yes. And I intend to correct my mistake. I intend to end the man who dares to call himself Death. The man who killed my order, my friends. The new year approaches, Tryst. This is my last chance. Will you help me?”

“Can I rescue her soul from the Maw?”

“It is possible,” Kaela replied. "With our power. I can guide you."

“Tell me what to do.”

###

A bloody, full moon hung low in the night sky. Gepo lay dead on his cabin floor, a wicked dagger gripped tight in his left hand. Festering gashes covered his chest, though his blood stopped flowing minutes ago.

Then he gasped to life.

"THARASH," Tryst said. "Hello, Gepo. Take me to Rakuul, now."