Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 92: Before the Blood Throne

The interior of the temple is a cascade of deep reds and shadowy corners, the flicker of torchlight dancing against the granite walls that pulse with a life of their own. As we step further into the heart of this ancient sanctuary, the air grows heavy, imbued with the scent of iron and old stone. Pyra, her bright blue robes a stark contrast against the blood–red backdrop, kneels before a figure so imposing yet so frail in appearance that the juxtaposition sends a shiver down my spine.

The Blood Scribe sits on a throne carved directly from the living rock of the temple, veins of ruby running through black onyx and red granite like lifeblood through arteries. She is ancient, her skin a tapestry of fine lines and deep creases, telling the story of centuries. Yet, there is a regality in her posture that speaks of undiminished authority and power. Her robes mirror those of her priestesses but are adorned with layers of intricate embroidery that shimmer with threads of gold and silver, capturing the light and reflecting it in mesmerizing patterns.

Atop her head sits a diadem, centered with a large ruby that burns like a smoldering coal. The gem is placed precisely at her forehead, forming a triangle with her intensely red eyes, which glow with an inner fire, piercing and wise. Her hair, bone white with age, cascades down her shoulders, and amidst the snowy strands, a single streak of red mirrors the one in my own hair. The sight of it tightens something in my chest, a strange connection flickering to life.

Her voice, when she speaks, is like the whisper of dry leaves, a sound that seems both impossibly soft and overwhelmingly resonant, filling the chamber and vibrating within my own ribcage. It’s as if she speaks directly to each of our hearts, her words bypassing the ears to resonate directly with the soul.

“Welcome, travelers, the Blood Scribe intones, her eyes locking onto each of us in turn. Pyra remains kneeling, her head bowed, continuing to relay her tale in hushed tones. She speaks of betrayal, of loss, of battles fought and friends fallen. Her voice breaks as she recounts the sacrifice of her companions, their lives extinguished in the service of their mission.

As she finishes, the Blood Scribe turns her gaze to us, beckoning Bloodbane and me forward. We approach, the weight of this sacred space pressing down upon us, and kneel before her, the cool stone against my knees grounding me in the moment.

“Rise, Pyra. And you, newcomers, look upon me,” she commands, her voice gaining a steely edge. We comply, Bloodbane’s face a mask of reverence mixed with a hint of fear, a rare sight.

Before lowering my gaze in respect, I study the Blood Scribe. Her presence is a paradox, her ancient form exuding a timeless power. The ruby on her forehead seems to pulse with a light of its own, casting a crimson glow that bathes her in an otherworldly aura. Her eyes, a deep, vibrant red, scan us with an intensity that feels as if she’s peering into the very marrow of our bones.

She assesses us for a moment, her gaze lingering on me longer, perhaps puzzled or intrigued by my unusual appearance for a Blood Wraith. Then, she nods slowly, as if what she sees confirms something she had suspected.

“You have brought something unusual into my temple, Pyra,” she says, her voice resonating around the chamber. “A hybrid of blood and light, shadowed by a past yet unknown even to herself. Tell me, child of both dusk and dawn, what is your name?”

“Arianna,” I reply, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. “I am… new to what I am.”

Her nod is slow, almost imperceptible. “Indeed. The threads of fate weave complex patterns around you, Arianna. Your coming here was foretold, though the paths you might take are as numerous as the stars. I was told once, many moons ago, that someday I would be visited by my own ghost, my shadow from the Earth realm, a blood mirror that will rise from the fire. You have risen from the fire, have you not?”

I nod, my heart clenching within my chest, as I remember how I was literally burned to death at the stake by Father Codrin and his blindly loyall flock of fanatical villagers. I was nothing more than a charred, dying husk of charcoal when Aleksandr found me, and brought me back from the brink of death with the gift of his immortal life’s blood. It was only thanks to his sacrifice that I am here now.

“As foretold,” she says solemnly.

I swallow hard, her words echoing a destiny I’m only beginning to grasp. The Blood Scribe’s eyes then shift to Bloodbane, her expression softening slightly.

“And you, old soul in new bondage. Your loyalty and your burdens are heavy, and you have travelled for. Speak your piece,” she instructs him.

“Indeed, we have faced many trials,” Bloodbane admits, nodding solemnly in response. *For centuries, I have been hound in servitude to Tatiana Fontaine, the renowned Duchess of Pain, High Lady and vampire Queen of the Fiery Realm,” he explains, his voice echoing softly against the stone walls. “Her will suppressed mine, her commands chaining me more cruelly than any shuckle.“

The Blood Scribe nods thoughtfully and asks, “And yet, you stand before nie, unbound and with a new companion. How did this come to pass?”

Chapter 92 Before the Blood Throne

“Arianna, who kneels beside me, forged a new bond with me,” Bloodbane says with a quick glance in my direction. “She freed me from Tatiana’s clutches through a ritual of blood. She does not wish to keep me as her servant. It was merely a means to an end–our escape.”

“That’s right. I don’t

him to servitudent to own anyone,” I say quickly, “Bloodhane helped me when I needed it most, and I want to free him from any bonds that tie

possible?”

The Blood Scribe considers our words, her expression softening. “A noble request,‘ she responds thoughtfully. “It is rare to see such selflessness. I shall dissolve the hands that tie you, Bloodhane, under one condition–that you continue to serve out of loyalty, not because of a blood contract, should you choose to do so.”

“It would be my honor to serve by choice, Bloodbane responds gratefully. “I seek only to guide Arianna safely on her path.”

answer a

His

takes me by surprise.

“You don’t need to do that,” I whisper to him, even though there’s no point the Blood Scribe is right in front of us and can hear every wo “Seriously. I’m grateful for your help, but you don’t need to feel obligated to stay at my side any more. Go find your people, your family.”

“My family are long dead,” he says, a glimmer of sadness passing over his crimson gaze.

“So I will help you now, not as a servant, but as a friend,” he continues with a quick smile, which I return.

Then, turning her gaze to me, the Blond Scribe probes further. “Very well. And you, Arianna, what is it that you seek from me?” she inquires.

“I need to return home, to the Earth realm,” I answer, meeting her gaze as I speak. “I have family there, and a man… well, um… vampire… that I love deeply. I’ve been torn from them by forces beyond my control, and I need to return to my life.”

Nodding understandingly, the Blood Scribe concludes, “The path back to the Earth realm is fraught with difficulties, especially for one who has been touched by our world as deeply as you have. But it is not impossible. Let us see what can be done. I will need time, a few days perhaps. Pyra, Hestia, show our guests to their chambers.” Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Her gaze returns to me, and I feel as though she looks straight through to the essence of who I am, and perhaps, who I might become. The chamber, with its pulsing walls and the echo of ancient chants, feels like a crucible in which my fate will be reshaped. The Blood Scribe, this monumental figure swathed in history and power, now holds that fate in her hands.

Chapter Comments

EJ

oh wow! I have no words. This just keeps getting crazier and crazier yet better and better.

VIEW 1 ›

6