2025-11-04 03:21:33
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Chapter 10: Fracture.
You never have.The words were like pieces of ice, hammered in a midnight storm, that came out of the lips of Aric Blackthorn, each syllable cleaving the tense silence like a blade thrust home.“You bastard!” The stillness was broken by the scream of Vira, and the face of that girl was contorted into a mask of naked, unrestrained rage. Everything around them was moving slowly, like syrup, as the world was approaching a boiling point.The crimson eyes of Aric flashed with deadly accuracy, and narrowed to slits, as though to cut through the very air. His senses were keener, all his muscles tensed as a bowstring.He beheld it all.The slight shake in the hand of Vira holding the dagger, the fingers tightening with the venomous determination.The angry throbbing of a vein at her temple, the fury and barely suppressed rage.The sternness of her set jaw, where reason sank beneath the incoming flood of anger.The straining energy in her legs, ready to deliver a brutal attack.He had practice
Chapter 9: Clash.
Aric Blackthorn stood drenched in sweat, his body trembling from the brutal rhythm of training. His crimson eyes narrowed as they fixed on the slip of white paper in his hand. The forest around him seemed to hold its breath, every rustle and whisper fading into silence.Was it time again? Suspicion and exhaustion twisted inside his mind.Another mission from the Blood Sovereign? Normally, such orders came sealed in crimson parchment—a color that demanded both obedience and fear. But this letter was different. White. Plain. Almost innocent.Seris’s voice broke the silence, steady but cautious. “It’s from Mistress Vira, Ninth Vein.”Aric frowned, stepping closer. Without hesitation, he tore open the envelope. His eyes scanned the brief message, his expression hardening. The paper crumpled in his hand before he tossed it aside with clear disdain.“Ignore it,” he said coldly, his tone slicing through the air like a blade.He turned back to his training, muscles screaming, fury burning thr
Chapter 8: Seris.
Aric Blackthorn shut the massive oak doors of the dining hall behind him and stepped into the night. The air was cool, the manor surrounded by a forest so thick that the moonlight barely touched the ground. Sleep had long abandoned him; rest was a luxury he neither needed nor wanted. His mind and body were restless, drawn once again to the training fields he had carved into existence through sheer willpower and discipline.High above, perched on a tall branch, a pair of crimson eyes followed him through the darkness. Seris watched silently, her face unreadable, her posture still as stone. The flicker of torchlight reflected off Aric’s skin as he moved, muscles straining with every motion, each swing of his blade echoing with raw exhaustion. Sweat and blood shimmered under the faint light, but Seris didn’t flinch. Her expression didn’t waver. She only watched, calm and cold, as if carved from marble.Time slipped by unnoticed until she finally moved. With the silent grace of a shadow,
Chapter 7: Sovereign.
“Still failing to evolve, Aric? Honestly, it would be a mercy if you disappeared altogether. Someone like you doesn’t deserve a seat at this table.”Vira’s voice dripped with venom, every word sharp enough to cut.Heads turned, but no one dared to interfere. It was easier to pretend Aric Blackthorn didn’t exist, easier to treat him as little more than a ghost haunting the family’s grand table.But Vira, ever relentless, couldn’t resist twisting the knife. She lived for these moments—crushing him under her heel, feeding on the silence that followed.Aric didn’t respond.He just sat there, his red eyes glowing faintly beneath lowered lashes, his expression calm and unreadable. His fingers rested loosely in his lap, poised, patient.That quiet defiance only stoked the flames in Vira’s chest. Her brows knitted together, her temper snapping like a drawn bowstring.She leaned forward, her voice rising, sharp with fury.“What else could anyone expect? You’re the son of that filthy—”“Kai.”T
Chapter 6: Dinner.
Time slipped quietly through the forest as Aric Blackthorn and Seris moved beneath the bare branches, their footsteps light and soundless. They traveled until the trees gave way to a clearing, revealing the broken silhouette of a manor swallowed by decay and silence.The building stood like a monument to forgotten glory, its cold stone walls weathered by time. This had been Aric’s inheritance—bestowed upon him at twelve, the age when every Blackthorn heir was meant to awaken and claim their destiny. It was meant to be his stronghold, a symbol of nobility and promise.But to Aric, it was no throne. It was a prison.The house that should have marked his rise had instead become a tomb of quiet isolation. His parents, once powerful and proud, were long gone—casualties of the brutal politics that consumed the clan.Without allies or favor, Aric had become a ghost among his own bloodline. No one wanted to tie their fate to a boy who had failed to evolve, who carried the Blackthorn name but
Chapter 5: The Curse.
Ironhold sat beneath the fading sun like a city forged for war, its metal veins of raised roads slicing through the landscape like old battle scars. It wasn’t built for beauty or dreams; it was built to endure. Every wall, every beam, every road carried the same message: survive, no matter the cost.At its heart loomed a towering fortress, grim and unyielding, surrounded by smaller settlements huddled beneath its shadow like desperate survivors seeking warmth.When twilight spilled across the horizon, Darius Blackthorn declared the day done. The group would rest here under Ironhold’s cold gaze until dawn offered safer skies. Flying at night was suicide, only fools tempted the dark, for it belonged to creatures faster, sharper, and deadlier after sunset.Their arrival swept through the city like a storm. The Blackthorn crest burned bright on their carriage, trailed by armored warriors whose presence silenced the streets. No one dared to challenge them. They stopped at the heart of Redm
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