The Bond that Bleeds
1105 Words
Second Floor – The Locket’s Hunger
Aya staggered.
A sharp, unnatural pain tore through her chest like claws raking her heart. Her knees gave way.
Dylan caught her just before she crumpled to the ground. Her skin was bone-white, clammy. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps—like she was drowning in air. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped.
Then he saw it.
The locket.
It pulsed in perfect rhythm with her fading heartbeat—but it was no longer silver.
It was red.
A deep, hellish crimson that throbbed with heat. Not just glowing—burning. Beneath the metal, something twisted and writhed, alive and hungry. The once-delicate surface shimmered with a viscous, blood-like sheen, as if it were filling with liquid flame.
Dylan reached for it—but the instant his fingers brushed the metal, it scorched him. He hissed, staggering back. Blisters bloomed on his fingertips.
“Aya,” he breathed, panic rising. “What’s happening?”
She tried to speak, but only a choked rasp escaped. Her eyes were glassy, distant—barely seeing him. And then Dylan noticed it.
Her mark.
The faint glyph burned on her neck—it was flickering, stuttering like a dying star.
The bond.
It was unraveling.
“No.” Dylan’s voice cracked. His hands trembled as he pulled her close, her body limp in his arms. “Don’t you dare—don’t you leave me.”
Aya’s cold fingers gripped his weakly. “It’s feeding… on me,” she whispered. “The locket—it’s not protection. It’s a prison.”
She gasped—then arched in agony. Her spine bowed as if invisible chains yanked her upward. A burst of crimson exploded from her chest. Dylan watched, helpless, as glowing strands—like veins made of light—uncoiled from her heart and sank into the locket.
“Aya!” he shouted.
The air split with a low, humming chant, ancient and feminine:
> "The key must bleed. The door must open."
The locket vibrated violently, emitting a shriek of metal grinding against bone.
> "One must fall… for the Lord to rise."
Dylan’s mind reeled. The Lord. The dream realm. The woman.
Aya was never just a bearer of the locket—she was the seal.
A sacrifice.
Her body convulsed. Crimson veins bloomed beneath her skin like roots. Her golden aura dimmed to embers. Cold crept into her limbs.
And he felt it—
Her soul being siphoned away.
---
Stairwell – Blocked by the Swarm
Downstairs, Mika and Lance slammed against the wall as a tidal wave of shadows burst from the stairwell above.
“Back!” Mang Ramon barked, machete gleaming as he carved through the darkness. “They're guarding something!”
The walls twisted—the resort itself bending, snarling like a beast protecting its young. The hallway writhed with claws, limbs, and shrieking faces. Smoke-bone creatures crawled along the ceiling like insects with too many eyes.
“They’re trying to keep us away from her,” Mika whispered, horror dawning on her face. “Aya—something’s happening to her.”
The radio crackled with Lauren’s frantic voice. “We’re trapped on the third floor! The doors—walls—everything’s shifting. Like it’s alive.”
Max cut in, voice grim. “They’re outside too. Thousands. Circling. Like they’re waiting for something.”
And then—
From beneath the resort’s foundations, something ancient shifted.
Breathing.
Awakening.
---
Second Floor – The Edge of Death
Dylan cradled Aya’s fragile body, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You’re not doing this,” he whispered fiercely. “You’re not leaving me. Not now.”
But her lips were blue.
Her breath slowed to shallow flickers.
And the locket—now pulsating like a second heart—grew brighter, devouring her final warmth.
Then—
A thin crack appeared down the center of the locket.
Smoke hissed from the seams, twisting upward in red coils until it took form:
A woman’s face, pale and ageless, draped in ethereal smoke. The same face Aya had seen in dreams—the woman who gifted the cursed locket.
> "She is the key," the face intoned.
"Her body holds the gate. Her death will set it free."
Dylan stared in disbelief, fury burning in his eyes. “No—”
The locket flared blindingly.
Aya’s eyes rolled back.
And her body went limp.
“AYA!” Dylan roared, shaking her. “No—Aya—STAY WITH ME!”
He felt her slipping. Her soul—his soulmate—being pulled into the locket’s abyss.
And then—his mark ignited.
But it wasn’t crimson.
It was gold.
Pure. Blazing. Defiant.
The bond between them still lived. Barely. But enough.
Dylan knew what he had to do.
Even if it destroyed him.
---
Dylan’s Sacrifice
With a cry that tore from the deepest part of him, Dylan pressed his hand to his heart.
And ripped it open.
The mark burst with golden fire.
A torrent of light poured out of him—rushing into her, into the bond, into the cursed locket. His soul broke open, flooding into hers.
The red mist screamed, recoiling.
The woman’s face contorted in rage.
The locket shuddered violently—then cracked again, this time from the inside.
Aya’s body jerked.
Her soul, tied to his by the golden thread of their bond, fought its way back. The darkness shrieked and writhed—but could not hold her.
And then—
The locket exploded in a burst of red and gold, dissolving into a thousand shards that vanished in air like ash on wind.
Dylan collapsed, coughing, blood on his lips.
His eyes fluttered.
Then closed.
---
Aya’s Cry
Silence fell.
Then—
Aya gasped—and her eyes flew open, glowing brilliant gold.
She coughed, clutching her chest. She was alive.
But—
“Dylan?” she croaked.
He didn’t answer.
She turned—saw him motionless beside her. Pale. Still.
“Dylan!” she screamed, grabbing his face. His skin was ice. His lips were blue. The golden mark on his chest—fading.
“No. No—please, please—wake up—” Her tears fell freely as she held him close, sobbing. “You can’t do this. You saved me. You can't be gone.”
But he didn’t stir.
He’d given her everything.
And as she sobbed over his body—
The resort trembled. The floors buckled. Walls cracked.
A great roar echoed from below—not of any beast, but something worse.
From beneath the earth, The Lord began to rise.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD