blood red moon

[sharkemoji]

 Blood moons are rare, so Mark likes to take advantage of them.

He sets out early in the morning, packs his bags with herbs and charms and jars and a single red candle. Its a long ways to his destination, but Mark is nothing if not determined. He hikes up the mountains, far away from the village and into the forest.

His teachers always claimed the blood moons were the best times to contact spirits and, well, Mark has always had an affinity for necromancy. The red moon only comes every few years and this, this is what Mark has been waiting for.

The clearing is empty, as always, not even the lingering scent of a creature lost in the woods. Things tend not to linger in the spots where people conjur the dead. He hums as he sets to work preparing his space. The sun is setting and soon enough, the hour will be upon him. He crushes his herbs and says his incantations and he waits.

Witching hour strikes with the moon high and red. Mark grins, wide and all teeth and begins. He pours the water over the bowl, lets the spell bind as he whispers like a prayer. Dragging the knife across his palm doesn't sting any more than it fills him with utter satisfaction. Blood mixes with water and he pours it out as an offering to the Earth Mother.

Silence falls over the mountain side. Out of the darkness walks a figure.

"Hello," it says, stepping into the moonlight. Mark's heart stops. "I'm Yuta. I believe you were looking for me."