Chapter 6 The Blood Oath

The night sky stretched wide above the castle, heavy with dark clouds that moved like slow creatures in the wind. The air smelled of old stone, fire, and something sharp—blood. Aria stood in the middle of a cold hall lit only by black candles. Their weak flames bent under the weight of the night, throwing long shadows across the walls. Her hands were bound in front of her, the ropes soft but tight, as if the darkness itself held her still.

Lucian stood a few steps away, dressed in black from neck to boot, his eyes glowing faint red under the dim light. He looked like he belonged to the night, like he was born from it. He moved slowly, never breaking his gaze from her. “Tonight,” he said in a voice smooth and deep, “you will make the oath. Once spoken, there is no going back.”

Aria’s heart thumped hard. “I didn’t agree to anything,” she whispered.

Lucian tilted his head slightly, like a predator amused by its prey. “Your blood agreed long before your mouth could speak. You were chosen, Aria. The moon has already made the promise for you.”

She wanted to step back, but the shadows curled behind her like a wall. The floor was cold against her bare feet. Around them, dark figures gathered in silence. Their faces were pale, their eyes sharp like knives in the dark. Lucian’s court. She could feel their hunger, their quiet excitement, as if they had waited years for this night.

A small silver blade floated toward her, guided by invisible hands. It hovered in front of her wrist, shining with the moonlight that crept through the tall windows. Aria swallowed hard.

Lucian walked closer. The scent of him—cold and ancient—wrapped around her. He reached for her wrist with gentle fingers, though his touch burned like ice. “Say the words,” he whispered. “Let your blood bind us.”

“I won’t,” she breathed.

His eyes flickered brighter. “Then it will speak for you.”

The blade touched her skin. A sharp sting followed, and a thin line of blood bloomed across her wrist. She gasped, her knees trembling. The blood didn’t fall to the floor. It rose like smoke, swirling in the air between them, glowing faint red as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

Lucian lifted his hand, and a single drop of his blood fell into the glowing air. The two colors—hers and his—twisted together, pulling the room into silence. A low hum filled the hall, the kind of sound that sinks into bones.

Aria’s heart pounded so loud it almost drowned out everything else. She tried to fight it, but something ancient moved inside her. It was like a door opening, one she didn’t even know existed. The shadows curled tighter, wrapping around her body like smoke.

Lucian’s voice fell low, almost a growl. “From this night forward, your blood carries my mark. My power. My bond. We are tied by the blood oath.”

The glowing smoke burst, and a warm, burning mark spread across Aria’s wrist, swirling like fire trapped under her skin. She gasped, her breath caught between pain and something she couldn’t name.

Lucian leaned closer, his breath cold against her ear. “You can run, little flame,” he whispered. “But the bond will always find you.”

Aria’s vision blurred as the world tilted. She fell to her knees, clutching the burning mark. The court around them bowed their heads as if they were witnessing something sacred.

Outside, the blood moon rose higher, its red light flooding through the windows, sealing what had just begun.

The night of the blood oath had tied her to him—not with words, but with the fire of her own blood. And there would be no escape.