Birth of the Blood Moon

Dante thrust his dagger into the mutated beast-hound and with a ferocious kick sent its sprawling limbs hard onto the cobblestone floor. Blood dripped from his gnawed hand as he clenched it into a fist. Another beast lunged forward with a vicious snarl. Drawing his gilded pistol, he eviscerated it with a single blow and shot the first before it could bring itself back up.

Letting out a gruff sigh, he swiftly turned to wrap his arms around Evelyn, who was heavy with child. She lifted his injured hand and caressed it before they could continue onwards.

“Come, my love,” she said.

“No, I’m fine. We must–”

“It won’t take but a moment,” Evelyn insisted.

Scrunching his nose, he reluctantly obliged. He was guided to a small alleyway with two wooden crates. Dante helped her onto the solid one and he took a seat on the broken crate beside it.  His rough hand stiffened, fending off the sting of the deep bite marks.

Evelyn whispered an incantation underneath the lunar rays as they embraced his ravaged skin. To Dante, the celestial tongue he could not understand was given new life parting from her lips. His pulsating veins slowed to a calming ease as it began to heal his wound.

“How soon before the child comes?” Dante asked with concern.

“Not long, I fear. The pains are coming on stronger,” as she spoke, another one came. She clutched onto her round belly, writhing in agony. Dante wished he could take her pain away, but it was the price of their progenitors’ original sin from long ago. When it subsided, Evelyn could see his brewing indignation. She spoke her final healing words as the light of the moon disappeared.

Kissing his hand, she gave him a reassuring look, “I’ve been visited by beautiful dreams. The celestial voices tell me that our troubles on earth will at last give way when the moon turns to blood.”

Dante looked away from her, wishing he could believe them. “What do they know about our suffering? They turned their backs on us and now mutated beasts and demons roam the earth.”

“I know you don’t believe it, but I hear their sorrowful whispers every night. The higher realm suffers as we do and they regret bringing ours into the one below.”

Without a reply, he rose from the wooden crate and looked up at the pale, heartless moon. He could not hear the celestial voices, but he spurned their cruel pity. Still, if Evelyn believed them, then he would abate his misgivings for her sake. Dante lifted her up and together they moved on.

Despite her faltering strength Evelyn glided across the cobblestone slums with a noble dignity. Her beautiful features had been altogether untouched, even in the decay surrounding them. Dante admired her resolve and knew she could brave the pains of labor.

They walked past all the sinful innards of their kind laying at their feet. Evelyn stopped upon seeing a long dead young woman being clung by a lifeless, old man. Dante looked down at him in disgust, wishing he had been the one to send him to his death. Evelyn bent down over their corpses and gently pushed him away from her. Bowing her head down in prayer, the moon’s light cleansed them.

“Be at rest above,” she said, pushing the young woman’s hair back and kissing her forehead.

She turned to face the empty space beside the old man’s corpse where his apparition appeared. Evelyn stared back at him with a mournful anger, “And may you learn the weight of your sins, that you have been a vessel for the evils on earth.” There the ghost remained, forever tethered to the realm below.

Dante got her back up so they could move along. His breath wavered, apprehensive about the birth that was soon coming. Their own bodies, though alive, had felt like death walking as they traveled down the path to Evelyn’s ruined manor home.

After a long, terrible hour they approached Salvatore House. Evelyn’s laboring had grown excruciating as she struggled to stay on her feet. Dante opened the wrought iron gates with a strong arm, holding his beloved Evelyn with the other. He found a soft patch of grass among the overgrown path and carefully sat her down. Taking off his cape coat, he bunched it up, using it as a cushion for her head.

Evelyn looked up at him warmly, but was interrupted by the throes of impending birth. With an exhausting strain, she began to push the child from her womb. Dante held her delicate hand tight, encouraging her through it.

Fear overtook him when the grass beneath them became drenched in her blood. Through her wild screams of anguish, she looked intently into Dante’s eyes. An unsettled feeling stung him.

“My love—” she let out another horrible cry before continuing, “You must do exactly as I say. The child cannot come out naturally. I’m sorry I had not said so before, but—” her tired voice could hardly speak, “Those beautiful dreams of which I spoke, they shall come to pass…at a cost.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dante asked, incredulous.

“Luella. She is the one who will turn the moon to blood and so end all of our suffering. I am her mother, as you are her father.” Evelyn screeched in agony, shaking to raise her arm up. “You must cut her out of my womb so she can survive. She is the only one who can save us.”

Dante shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He refused to believe her.

Evelyn reached out to wipe his tears, “The celestial voices have called out to me with their promise. She shall live, and I shall die. It is the way it must be.”

“To hell with their damned promises! You will both survive,” he said in defiance.

“I know you cannot see or hear them as I do, but you must do as I say. The choice has already been made,” her excessive bleeding poured onto the earth. Their will had been done, whether he agreed to it or not. Dante clawed his hands into the red stained dirt as he watched the soul behind her eyes flitting to the realm above. He cursed the celestial voices again, again, and again still.

“Do not weep for me, my dear Dante,” she was overcome with a sublime delirium, “I have seen her in my most beautiful dreams. She will be the greatest huntress of evil, cleansing humanity from sin.” With the last vestiges of her strength, she grabbed the hilt of his dagger, “You must save her. Luella must live. Do it, so I may finally be at rest.”

In a righteous fury against all of the realms above and below, he grabbed the wretched dagger from her hands. If he had been able to see them like Evelyn had, he would have slit all of their throats. Why should she die and be taken from her child? What right did they have to dictate her fate?

“Do it, now!” The shrieking pains of her labor came to a head, blending with her voice. Dante pierced into her womb and opened up her insides. He could not fully look at the deed he was carrying out, but he did it. He did the appalling thing for his daughter’s sake, and most of all, so Evelyn could be at peace.

After digging through her entrails, he found the baby’s feet pointed towards the natural opening. He cut the cord, severing the mother from the child. Dante was dried of tears, yet they came relentlessly overflowing as he wrapped the wailing newborn in his begrimed cape coat.

He couldn’t bear to look upon the face of the woman he loved, only finding the smallest comfort in the warm smile beneath her dead eyes. The new father cradled Luella close, looking up at the sky as the moon kissed the mother’s spilt blood, casting a crimson shadow over the earth.