The Moon Shines Red (Heart of Darkness Book 1)

by Pamela Sparkman

  Early Praise for

  “Pamela Sparkman always knows how to write a story full of emotion, true romance, and meaning. But this book has exceeded my expectations and shines brighter than I ever could have anticipated.”

  ~ Christie – Smokin’ Hot Book Blog

  “I had never really been a fan of, nor read much in the world of fantasy – until this favorite author decided to make a 360-turn and head in a very different direction. And I followed. Utterly spellbound, beguiled by, and swept up in this mesmerizing fantasy. I devoured every word Pamela Sparkman wrote and begged for more.”

  ~ Anne OK – Goodreads

  “Pamela has seamlessly fallen into this genre and made her own stamp into this world with The Moon Shines Red. When I finished reading it, I was so sad to say goodbye. I wanted more. Begged for more. I kept asking for a small scrap of anything of this phenomenal story to read.”

  ~ Trisha – Devoured Words

  “I have been an avid fan on Pamela’s books and writing since her first release, and each and every subsequent release improves on the last, I can honestly say that this is some of the best story-telling I have read in a long time…”

  ~ Claire – Goodreads Reviewer

  “I’m a first time reader of Pamela Sparkman. Yes, I must have lived under a rock because this lady knows how to write. The story is written like a scavenger hunt. Hints are laid out throughout the story. You follow bread crumbs, solve a puzzle and that opens up a whole new lot of questions.”

  ~ Astrid – Vanilla and Spice Books

  “The story is well written having a sweet flare of poetry that guides these characters of this multifaceted world.”

  ~ Jennifer Kyle – Goodreads Reviewer

  Table of Contents

  Early Praise for The Moon Shines Red

  Title Page

  Books by Pamela Sparkman

  About The Moon Shines Red

  Quote

  Map

  Curse

  Part One

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  Part Two

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  Playlist

  Note from the Author

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Contemporary Romance

  Stolen Breaths (Stolen Breaths, #1)

  Shattered (Stolen Breaths, #2)

  Skin Deep (Stolen Breaths, #3)

  Each book in Stolen Breaths series is a STANDALONE novel.

  Historical Romance

  Back to Yesterday

  The red glow of the moon washed over land and sea like a faded bloody stain. Everything was bathed in it, including him. A constant reminder of the curse that marked him before he was born. Every night he gazed at it like he was lured and haunted by it. It followed him, it beseeched him. It called out to him. Just once he wanted to see the moon glow as everyone else saw it. Bright and illuminating. But he knew that would never be possible.

  The all too familiar feeling of despair suffocated him, like long gangly fingers squeezing his neck, cutting off his air. He fell to his knees and begged for the sky to fall on him. He had suffered long and tirelessly and he was desperate for it to end. And yet, he fought to breathe. He fought to stand back on his feet. Because fighting back was as instinctual to him as breathing. He had come too far to let his loneliness and despair get the best of him now. He was battle worn and weary, but he still had a reason to live.

  Or so he hoped.

  He stood back on his feet and he fought against the doom that hovered over him since the day he was born and he stared up into the darkened sky.

  At the moon that shines red only for him.

  He was cursed.

  I should have stayed away from him. But I couldn't.

  HE was my love...my life. And he just might kill me.

  So I guess that means...he may also be my end.

  “A tale is but half told when only one person tells it.”

  ~ The Saga of Grettir the Strong

  When what is blue turns red, your child will bring man to his knees in sorrow

  For they will not see the light of tomorrow

  Let it be so until the mountains move and the rivers shiver

  As soon as what’s been shrouded is revealed, all wicked souls will quiver

  A refusal shall mark an age of tranquility

  And the restoration of balance shall bring forth a remedy

  I ran like a rabbit being chased in the woods, darting in and out around trees, occasionally looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was behind me. My feet pounded the floor of the forest, my breathing heavy. My lungs burned and my sides ached. I don’t remember ever running so fast, sprinting like my life depended on it. But it did. At least, I felt like it did.

  I was used to the forest turning dark when I was in the thick of it. I even liked it because I was hidden from the outside world, protected and sheltered. However, this time felt different. I felt like the forest had walls and those walls were closing in. Something sinister was present. I could feel it in the marrow of my bones. Fog drifted in, settling low and thick, making it difficult to see the ground beneath me. Yet I continued to run like an animal being chased, dodging and weaving, and I didn’t stop until I bolted through the front door of my home, nearly scaring my poor mother to death.

  She whirled around with a shriek. “Goodness gracious, child. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” she said with one hand covering her chest and the other gripping a wooden spoon. “Is your tail on fire?”

  “No, Mother,” I said, bending at the waist, gasping for breath. “I-I was scared someone was following me.”

  Her eyes widened as she set the spoon on the table. “Followed you from where?”

  I still didn’t understand what had actually transpired. I replayed in my head over and over again while I was running, trying to make sense of it. Had someone been following me? I never saw anyone.

  When I didn’t immediately answer, she said, “Speak, child. This instant.”

  “I d-don’t know, Mother,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “I got spooked. I th-thought I heard someone laugh when I was in the library of the monastery. I called out to them. When no one answered I r-ran.”

  “And you think they followed you?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you see anyone?” she asked, peeking out the window.

  “No.”

  She dropped the curtain and stared at me. “Then why did you think you were being followed?”

  “I-I don’t know,” I said, unsure. Now that I was saying it aloud, I wasn’t certain of anything. Had I imagined it?

  “Why would the sound of someone laughing scare you?”

  “Because I thought I was alone,” I said defensively. “I felt a…” I bit off the words, realizing how silly they were going to sound.

  “You felt a what?”

  Ducking my head, unable to look Mother in the eye, I said, “A presence.”

  She sighed, and for the longest time I could feel her eyes staring at the top of my head. I could only imagine what she must think of me. “Oh, Elin. Is it not possible it was one of the monks?”

  I
moved to sit on one of my father’s handmade chairs, and kept my head down. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Are you even positive you heard someone?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t swear to it.” I frowned, realizing I may have overreacted. I always overreacted.

  Mother looked at me with nonjudgmental eyes, soft and patient. I couldn’t help feeling a bit embarrassed. It was evident my lack of socializing with others outside of my parents was causing me to behave like a scared little mouse, jumping out of my skin at the tiniest things. I hope the monks hadn’t seen me run out of there like I was being chased by demons. They may never let me come back.

  She sat down beside me and tucked her finger underneath my chin. “This is why I wanted you to get out more. Explore. I thought if you had a place to visit like the monastery it would do you good. It’s not healthy for you to never interact with others.”

  I laughed humorlessly, feeling foolish. The truth was, I didn’t trust people. They had given me little reason to. At the age of eight, I had to leave the only home I’d ever known because it wasn’t safe to stay. I had been born with a gift. I could see people’s happiest memories. However, I learned at an early age not to divulge my gift to others. It scared people that I could tap into their memories and tell them something I shouldn’t have otherwise known. I suppose I couldn’t blame them, but when rumors began to swirl and people started calling me a witch, my father moved us here to Mirova, a province on the outer edge of Kaelmor Kingdom, far enough from those who wished to do me harm. I should have felt safe.

  I didn’t. I never felt safe. I always felt…watched.

  Another humorless laugh escaped when I thought about how I had run through the forest like I wasn’t well. I could feel my face turning a nice shade of scarlet. “I feel rather embarrassed now,” I admitted. “Please don’t tell Father.”

  “Don’t tell Father what?” The door clicked shut and my father walked toward us. He dropped a kiss on my head and then kissed Mother’s cheek.

  “Uh…” I begged my mother with my eyes not to say anything. He worried about me too much already.

  She stood, patted my hand, and walked back to the fire pit in the middle of the stone floor where our supper was simmering in a pot. She picked up her spoon and stirred. “Elin didn’t want you to know we were having seared apples and walnuts with our supper. She wanted to surprise you.”

  Mother fibbed to my father so casually and with such ease I had to wonder how often she had fibbed to me. But I couldn’t be upset with her. I had asked her not to tell, so I did the only thing I could do. I fibbed too.

  “Yes. I wanted it to be a surprise. I know it’s your favorite and we don’t have it often.” I glanced at my mother and noticed her eyebrows were pinched tightly together.

  My father’s eyes bounced between us. I inhaled a fragile breath and waited. “Fine,” he said, biting back a smile. “Don’t tell me. I didn’t want to know anyway.”

  After my father walked away to wash up for supper, my mother whispered, “Next time let me do the talking. You’re a terrible liar, my love.”

  I couldn’t disagree.

  Later, while we ate, I thought about what I had read while in the library of the monastery. I hadn’t had time to process any of it. Mirova was home to an ancient Faery realm? And then I thought about the story of the king who had killed his cursed child. My eyes roamed to my own father. Would he kill me if I was cursed?

  No. I shook that thought from my head. My father loved me. When I thought about the sacrifices my parents made for me because they worried for my safety, I knew my father would never bring harm to me. Still, I didn’t know the character of the king.

  All through supper I had contemplated the story while my parents discussed the day’s work and all that needed to be done the next day. I pretended to listen and chimed in when prompted. When supper was over, Father stood from the table and picked up his mandolin that leaned against the wall and began plucking the strings, testing them, and then sat down again.

  “Oh, play us something upbeat, darling,” Mother said. “I’m in the mood to dance.”

  Father’s lips turned up, pleased. His fingers began plinking the strings in a furious blur. The tones he made were woody and rich and sounded complex to my ears, lovely. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, and was thankful for it, for I was desperate for my mind to wander elsewhere.

  With an outstretched hand, Mother said, “Come, dance with me.”

  I accepted her invitation and she and I began kicking our feet in lively, skipping steps, while linking our arms together, turning in a circle, and then reversing course. The faster Father played the faster we danced. We laughed and sang and battled to out-dance the other. Father was delighted, and for those few minutes, all my worries were cast aside, flying away on musical notes until all I cared about was the harmony of laughter my parents and I made. Then, Father played something slower, something meaningful, and I returned to my seat to listen.

  My mother sat down beside me while I worried the sleeve of my dress. “What’s on your mind, daughter? You look so thoughtful.”

  I shrugged. “Did you know Mirova was home to an ancient Faery realm?”

  Father stopped playing, his eyebrows lifting high into his hairline. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I read it today in the library. Did you know?”

  My father glanced at my mother and she shifted her eyes to avoid mine. “I may have heard a story like that once,” he said, standing from the table and setting aside his mandolin.

  “Why have you never mentioned it?”

  “I don’t know, luv. I suppose I never gave it much thought.”

  “Funny,” I said. “I can’t seem to think of anything else.”

  Mother placed her hand over mine, stopping me from worrying the fabric of my dress any further. “What is it, child? What has you so bothered?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about the story I read today.”

  “What story was that?” she asked.

  “The story about how the King of Kaelmor fell in love with a Faery princess many, many moons ago. From what I understood from the text, humans and Faeries were never supposed to forge romantic relationships because Faeries were immortal supernatural beings who didn’t want to taint their race, and in the eye of man, they thought the union was ungodly so both sides forbid it.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and looked both my parents in the eye. “When the Faeries and humans found out the king and the Faerie was with child, the child was cursed.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Seems rather unfair if you ask me. Anyway, apparently a war broke out between Fae and man, each blaming the other for the abomination created between them. And now there is a wall between the realms and permissions must be granted in order to pass. What troubled me was reading about how it is believed the king had killed his cursed child.”

  “My, that’s quite a remarkable story isn’t it,” Mother said, standing to clear the table.

  “It is. Do you believe it?” I asked, paying closer attention to her facial expressions than I normally would.

  “I do not doubt the history books, Elin.” She tensed her shoulders and toyed with a lock of her hair.

  “Something wrong, Mother?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not. I’m glad you’re learning new things. This will be good for you,” she said and then turned to eye my father before gathering up the plates.

  Father sat, making a steeple with his fingers, lost in thought. When he noticed me staring, he excused himself from the table. “I’m going to turn in.” He kissed the top of my head. “Help your mother clean up, will you?”

  “Yes, Father,” I said, eyeing both my parents. “Everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine,” they both said at once.

  I decided I would believe them. After all, they had no reason to lie.

  Nothing was in the forest – no one was chasing me.
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  This was what I’d told myself later that night when I couldn’t summon sleep. I had tossed and turned for hours, too busy wrestling with my mind, bending it, and reconstructing the day’s events to fit the narrative I was trying desperately to believe.

  At first light, I’d gotten up and immediately began the morning’s chores. By mid-afternoon, Mother was shooing me out the door.

  “Go,” she said. “You’ve done enough for one day. Go find something fun to do.”

  I was tired from lack of sleep, but I knew my mother. She would insist, so I simply said, “All right, Mother. I’ll be home before supper.”

  I put on my cloak and walked toward the forest. Upon entering, I squared off my shoulders and made one more attempt at convincing myself I had overreacted the day before.

  Nothing was in the forest – no one was chasing me.

  Stepping into the thick grove of elms and oaks, I was thankful it welcomed me like an old friend. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, and I sensed nothing dangerous or oppressive lurking in the shadows.

  A sigh of relief washed over me. I had overreacted.

  Instead of going back to the monastery, I decided to do some exploring. I went deeper into the forest than I’d ever gone, feeling brave, although, I had no idea where I was going or how far the forest would take me. After some time, I spotted a white owl perched high on a limb.

  “Hi there, little owl.” Truthfully, there was nothing little about him. He stretched his wings wide and far and showed me just how small he wasn’t. He was big and beautiful and his large eyes followed me with every step that drew me nearer.

  I nodded in recognition of his majestic size and strength, humbled in his presence, honored to be in his company. Just a creature, I realized, but if what they say is true about owls being wise, then he must be the wisest of them all, because he felt like…knowledge. And I was hungry for it.