The Scarlet Oath

Chapter One: The Bloodbound Oath

The scent of burning incense thickened the air, curling in heavy tendrils that clung to my skin like unseen shackles. It mixed with the metallic tang of blood, sharp and cloying, sinking into my lungs with every breath. The chamber was dim, the flickering candlelight casting jagged shadows across the ancient stone walls, where symbols—etched deep into the marble floor—seemed to pulse like living things.

I could barely hear over the roaring in my ears.

My fate stood before me, wrapped in pristine white robes—robes tainted by the sins of those who came before me. The priest’s golden mask gleamed in the candlelight, smooth and expressionless, but I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into me like an iron brand.

“Kneel, child,” he commanded, his voice like rusted steel scraping against stone.

My knees trembled.

This was the moment I had been prepared for my entire life, yet fear coiled in my stomach like a living beast, gnawing at my ribs, sinking its claws into my resolve.

I wanted to run.

I wanted to tear off these ceremonial silks, cast away my title, and disappear into the night.

But I couldn’t.

Because I was Celeste Morvain, heir to the House of Morvain. Because this oath was my birthright, my duty, my burden.

Because my mother’s voice echoed in my mind, steady and unwavering.

“This is your destiny, Celeste. You cannot run from it.”

My destiny. My curse.

Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I lowered myself onto my knees, my palms pressing against the cold marble. The hush that followed was deafening. Every noble in the chamber, every robed figure, watched in silence, their whispered prayers slipping through the air like a thousand unseen hands, binding me tighter and tighter.

The priest raised the ceremonial dagger, the blade curved and gleaming, its edge whisper-thin. My breath hitched.

“By blood, you are bound.”

The words settled in my bones, cold and final.

“By sacrifice, you are sealed.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as the blade descended.

A sharp sting.

Then warmth—hot, sticky—spilled over my palm, dripping onto the altar.

The stone drank my blood greedily, the carved symbols flaring to life in an eerie crimson glow. My pulse pounded in my ears, each beat echoing through the chamber as the air thickened, charged with unseen energy.

Then—cold.

A gust of wind, unnatural and sharp, swept through the room. The candles sputtered, their flames bending in protest. A murmur of unease rippled through the gathered nobles, their voices hushed yet urgent.

I gasped as something unseen coiled around me, slipping beneath my skin, filling my veins like liquid fire. My fingers twitched, my body locked in place as a pressure—ancient, endless—wrapped around my soul.

And then, a voice.

Low. Unfamiliar.

Whispering from the void.

“You are ours now.”

My body jerked. My vision blurred. The world tilted, colors bleeding together. For a heartbeat, I swore I saw something lurking in the shadows—something vast and watching.

Then—darkness.

A moment later, I collapsed forward, my trembling hands catching me against the altar. My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.

The priest’s voice rose above the murmurs. “It is done.”

A thunderous cheer erupted.

But I barely heard it.

Because deep in my bones, in the marrow of my very soul, I knew—

Something had changed.

And there was no turning back.

The celebration was a blur of voices and clinking goblets, of silk brushing against my skin and hands gripping mine in empty congratulations.

I smiled when I was supposed to. Nodded when expected.

But I was drowning.

The bandages wrapped around my palm did nothing to dull the ache beneath them. It wasn’t just pain—it was something more, something alive. The magic thrummed beneath my skin, restless and foreign, like a beast pacing in a cage.

I had taken the Scarlet Oath.

And yet, I felt hollow.

“Celeste.”

My father’s voice cut through the noise, steady and unreadable. When I turned, his sharp gaze locked onto mine, searching, measuring. “You did well.”

The words should have soothed me. Instead, they tightened around my throat like a noose.

Before I could respond, a slow, mocking clap filled the air.

I knew that sound.

A shiver traced down my spine before I even turned.

Damien Vale.

Clad in black, his expression carved from amusement and something darker, he leaned against the stone pillar, watching me with the ease of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.

His voice was smooth, cutting through the room like a blade. “Swearing yourself to the gods,” he mused, tilting his goblet. “Tell me, Celeste, did they whisper back?”

A chill crept down my spine.

Because for a moment—for a single, fleeting second—I swore I had heard something.

And it hadn’t been a whisper.

It had been a scream.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words lodged in my throat.

Then, chaos.

A deafening crash shattered the room.

The great doors burst open.

Guards stormed in, swords drawn, their faces drained of color.

“The city is under attack!” one of them bellowed.

Panic swept through the hall like wildfire.

Nobles screamed. Goblets clattered to the floor. My father’s grip on my wrist tightened, his voice sharp. “Stay close.”

But as the world spun into chaos, my gaze snapped to Damien.

He wasn’t surprised.

He was smiling.

A slow, knowing smile.

Like he had been expecting this.

And in that moment, I knew—

The Scarlet Oath was only the beginning.