CHAPTER 51 — "THE BLOOD OATH"
The air tasted of iron and prophecy.
Emily's bare feet stepped down from the altar, each movement echoing like a drumbeat in the cavernous hall. The runes beneath her flickered once — as if bowing to their new master — then dimmed into silence.
Dozens of eyes tracked her in the shadows, belonging to beings older than human history. Some knelt in reverence. Others clenched their jaws in silent defiance.
A woman emerged first — tall, robed in crimson silk, her face veiled in black lace. The scent of her blood was intoxicating, yet bitter. She bowed low, the gesture dripping with formality.
> "Reborn Child," the priestess's voice carried the weight of ancient vows, "you carry the Mark of Thorns. That is no blessing… it is a summons."
Emily's fingers brushed the mark on her abdomen. The moment her skin made contact, a flash of memory stabbed her mind — fangs piercing flesh, a hand cradling her face, a voice whispering in a language not meant for mortal tongues.
She staggered. The priestess caught her wrist, cold and unyielding.
> "Before the next moon rises, you must speak the Blood Oath… or the Mark will consume you from within."
The shadows hissed, a thousand whispers overlapping. Somewhere above, chains rattled.
Emily's lips trembled, but her voice came steady.
> "And if I refuse?"
The priestess's veil shifted, revealing a pale smile too sharp to be kind.
> "Then your rebirth ends, and you will burn from the inside out — your soul screaming loud enough for him to hear."
The word him struck something deep inside her chest. She didn't need to ask who. She already knew.
Before Emily could reply, the air in the chamber changed — heavier, colder. The shadows scattered like frightened birds. A deep, rolling growl came from the massive doors at the far end of the hall.
The priestess immediately fell to her knees.
> "He comes…" she whispered, trembling.
The doors exploded inward with a thunderous crack, shards of blackened wood flying like deadly splinters. And there, framed by the crimson moonlight pouring in, stood a figure in dark armor — fangs glistening, eyes molten with rage and hunger.
Emily's breath caught in her throat.
It was Leo.
But this was not the Leo she remembered.
And the way he looked at her… was not the way a man looked at the woman he loved.
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