The Last Shadow Luna

Catherine's POV

The screaming wouldn't stop, piercing through the smoke and fire, tearing through the night like claws raking across flesh. 

I stood in the middle of it all... calm, so impossibly calm... watching the massacre unfold before my eyes. 

Bodies fell like marionettes with their strings cut and blood pooled beneath my feet, spreading across the cobblestones in dark shimmering ribbons.

"More," I heard myself say.

Knees hit the ground all around me. 

Men, women, children... they begged with trembling lips and tear-streaked faces, their hands raised in surrender but I felt nothing.

I raised my hand slowly, deliberating savoring the fear that radiated from those trembling figures while my masked warriors waited in silent rows behind me.

"Spill them," I whispered.

The swords came down.. the screaming crescendoed and I simply watched blankly.

My gaze drifted downward, to the puddle of blood accumulating at my feet. 

The liquid was red and black and in its surface, I saw my reflection.. but it wasn't me... not the me I knew, not the me I had always been.

She stood tall and proud where I stood broken. Her silver-blue eyes held no warmth and no soul. Her pale face was beautiful and terrible in equal measure. 

Long black hair with silver undertones framed her face like a crown of midnight and moonbeams. She was me, yes... but I had become something else entirely.. something powerful but frightening..!

The reflection smiled and I felt the nightmare crack apart like glass... 

I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my chest. 

My nightgown was drenched in sweat, clinging to my skin like a second skin. My hands gripped the sheets so tightly my knuckles ached.

"No, no, no," I gasped, my breath coming in uneven bursts. "It wasn't real. It wasn't real."

But it felt real. It always felt real.

It's been several years now and that nightmare had haunted me for years now... ever since I first ran from Silvercrest, ever since I collapsed in Mrs. Hargrove's garden like a wounded animal. 

The images never changed.. the blood.. the screaming.. the coldness and that reflection.. that terrifying reflection!

I pressed my trembling hands to my face, trying to ground myself in the present. 

I was Catherine Linn. I lived in Oakhaven. I was safe. I was loved. I was human, as far as the Hargroves knew.

A knock at the door made me jump.

"Catherine, dear?" Mrs. Hargrove's voice drifted through the door, worried. "Are you awake? I heard you from down the hall."

I opened my mouth to reply but my throat constricted, refusing to cooperate. 

The nightmare still had its claws in me, pulling me back toward those blood-soaked streets, toward that emotionless reflection.

The door creaked open and Mrs. Hargrove shuffled inside, her gray curls slightly askew from sleep. 

She was a small woman, barely five feet tall with kind brown eyes that had seen sixty-three years of life and still sparkled with warmth.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, taking in my state... my flushed face, my shaking shoulders, the tears I hadn't even realized were streaming down my cheeks. 

She crossed the room quickly and settled on the edge of my bed, her thin hands reaching out to cover mine.

"It's alright," she said softly, her voice carrying the gentle cadence I had come to cherish more than anything in this world. "You're safe. You're here with me and Harold. Nothing can hurt you in this house."

I finally found my voice, though it came out cracked and small. 

"I... I was dreaming again."

"I know, love. I heard you." She used her thumb to wipe the tears from my cheeks. 

"You were talking in your sleep.. tossing and turning like the devil himself was chasing you. You said some things... things that sounded painful."

I couldn't remember what I had said. I never could. What words might have slipped past my defenses?

"I'm sorry I woke you," I whispered.

"Don't be ridiculous." She patted my hand firmly. "I'd wake up every hour if it meant making sure you're alright. Now tell me. Do you want to talk about it?"

I couldn't.. She was human and the supernatural world I had escaped would only put her and Harold in danger.

"It was just a nightmare," I lied. "The same one I always have. I'm fine now, really."

Mrs. Hargrove didn't look convinced but she didn't push. That was one of the things I loved about her... she understood that some wounds needed time to heal and some secrets needed to stay buried.

"You know," she said, settling back against the headboard and pulling my blankets up around my shoulders, "Harold and I have been thinking."

My heart stuttered. Had they discovered something? Had I done something to reveal what I was? "Thinking about what?"

"About how you've been taking care of us all these years." She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Cooking, cleaning, tending the garden, running all the errands. We were supposed to be the ones looking after you when you arrived, sick and exhausted on my garden. But you've ended up looking after us instead."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. 

"I like taking care of you. It makes me feel... useful."

"You are useful, Catherine. You're more than useful. You're family."

She said it so naturally as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.

I had never had that... not really. My parents had tolerated my existence. Cassandra had actively hated me.. and Raphael...

No. I wasn't going to think about Raphael.

She rose from the bed with a soft groan, her joints creaking slightly and shuffled toward the door. At the threshold, she paused and looked back at me.

"You know, Catherine, Harold and I never had children and we always wondered what it would be like, having someone to raise and love unconditionally. Then you came along like a gift from above."

My eyes burned with fresh tears. 

"I don't deserve you."

"That's not for you to decide, dear." She smiled warmly. "Now get some rest. You had a long day tomorrow."

After she left, I sat in the darkness of my room listening to her footsteps fade down the hall. 

I had been living with the Hargroves for four years pretending to be human, hiding my senses and supernatural instincts beneath careful acting. 

Four years of love I had never expected to find, not from anyone and certainly not from a pair of sweet old humans who had no idea what walked among them.

It was the happiest I had ever been. More than that... it was the first time I had ever truly felt content. 

I closed my eyes, willing the nightmare's to fade away. 

It was just a dream, I told myself. It didn't mean anything.

When sleep finally claimed me again, the nightmare stayed away.

***

The next day found me on my way from the market smiling happily as I responded to greetings from neighbors.

 I had made a life here with real friends and a real home.

It was everything I had never known I needed.

I turned onto the Hargroves' street, my mood lifting at the sight of their cozy cottage at the end of the block. But as I approached, something felt wrong.

Three unfamiliar cars sat in the driveway. They hadn't been there when I left for the market that morning. In fact, I had never seen them before in this quiet neighborhood.

I paused at the edge of the property, my grocery bag hanging loosely from my fingers and rhe hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

I pushed through the front gate and approached the front door. The curtains in the living room were drawn but I could see silhouettes moving behind them.

I turned the knob slowly letting my instincts guide me.

"... never told us you was coming," Harold was saying, his voice carrying strain. "We hadn't heard from you in over twenty years."

"Things change." The woman's voice was clipped. "Family has a way of reconnecting when it matters most."

I stepped into the doorway of the living room and stopped dead.

Three men in dark suits stood against the far wall, their hands clasped behind their backs, their sunglasses-covered eyes scanning the room with practiced intensity. Security guards but who were they with?

In the center of the room, standing in front of the fireplace with her arms crossed and her lip curled in disgust was a young woman. 

She was tall and elegant with glossy black hair pulled back into a severe ponytail and a designer outfit.

"Catherine.." Mrs Hargrove approached me nervously. "Meet.. Amelia. She's our long lost daughter.."