The Blood Oath
988 Words
The Crimson Moon Pack had barely slept.
At dawn, the warriors stood ready. The council whispered behind closed doors. Rumors moved faster than the wind.
Seraphina walked the halls in silence, her cloak brushing the stone floors like a ghost’s shadow. The dagger at her thigh had become an extension of her. Her wolf was alert. Hungry.
She passed by the nursery—the sound of a child laughing behind the door stopped her.
Innocence. Something she would never have again.
Zayden found her there.
“Why are you here?” he asked softly.
She looked at the door. “To remember why we fight.”
He nodded. “And what did you remember?”
She met his gaze. “That monsters are made when good people are forced to bleed for too long.”
---
The first strike came at midday.
Scouts disappeared.
A barrier of fog rose over the southern border—unnatural, thick with sulfur and death.
Zayden stood on the wall, flanked by his generals. Seraphina stood beside him, her hand wrapped in leather, her blade coated in wolfsbane.
The mist parted.
And they saw them.
Rogues.
Dozens.
Eyes glowing, mouths foaming. Not mindless. Controlled. Manipulated.
And behind them, cloaked figures in red.
The Crimson Serpent.
Seraphina’s heart pounded.
Zayden looked at her. “They’re not attacking.”
“No,” she said. “They’re performing a rite.”
Just then, one of the robed figures stepped forward and raised a staff.
The ground shook.
Wolves cried out.
From the forest, a massive creature emerged—twice the size of any wolf, its body made of bones and flame.
A blood-forged beast.
The ancient enemy of royal wolves.
---
The battle began.
Wolves clashed in the mud, howls filled the air, blood stained the earth. Fire and fang met in brutal chaos.
Zayden fought like a god.
But it wasn’t enough.
The blood beast tore through warriors with savage strength. It didn’t bleed. It didn’t stop.
Seraphina sprinted toward it, her eyes locked on the runes carved into its hide.
“Cover me!” she shouted.
Zayden growled, ripping through three rogues to reach her side.
She leapt onto the beast’s back, stabbing her blade deep into the glowing symbol near its spine.
The beast screamed—a sound like breaking metal.
It threw her off.
Zayden caught her mid-air, tumbling with her into the mud.
“Damn it, Sera!” he yelled.
She laughed, blood in her teeth.
“Weak spot confirmed.”
He stared at her, then kissed her hard.
They rose together.
This time, they moved as one.
Alpha and Omega. Equal.
Warriors.
Mates.
---
The creature fell as Seraphina plunged her blade into its heart while Zayden held it down.
It dissolved into ash.
The rogues fled.
The fog lifted.
But the victory was bitter.
Twenty-seven dead.
Dozens injured.
And worse: Luka wasn’t among the fallen.
---
Back in the infirmary, Seraphina cleaned the blood from her arms.
Zayden entered quietly.
He didn’t speak. Just sat beside her.
She finally said, “The Crimson Serpent doesn’t care about the throne. Luka does. But they want something older.”
He nodded. “You.”
“I’m the key,” she said. “To a blood ritual. To open a gate beneath the catacombs. A prison of the Old Gods.”
Zayden’s fists clenched. “Then we seal it. Burn it. Whatever it takes.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. They can’t open it without a pure descendant of the Moon Queen. That’s me. But…”
“But?”
She looked at him. “If I die willingly, the gate seals forever. If they kill me in the rite, it opens.”
Zayden stood.
“Then you don’t die.”
She rose with him.
“And if it comes to that?”
He didn’t answer.
But his silence was thunder.
---
That night, Seraphina returned to the temple ruins beneath the mountain.
Alone.
She traced the ancient carvings, remembering her mother’s voice—soft lullabies in the old tongue.
Behind her, footsteps.
She turned.
Lyra.
The Beta female.
“You hate me,” Seraphina said.
Lyra didn’t deny it. “I did.”
“And now?”
Lyra walked to the altar.
“I saw you today. The way you fought. The way he looked at you.”
She paused.
“If you’re the key… then maybe you were meant to be here.”
Seraphina blinked. “You’d trust me?”
Lyra smiled bitterly. “I trust the bond. And I trust what I saw.”
She turned to leave, then stopped. “Don’t let them break him. Or you.”
---
Above ground, the stars burned bright.
Zayden stood at the watchtower.
He heard Seraphina before he saw her.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Can’t sleep. Not with what’s coming.”
She stood beside him.
“The priest will call the serpent soon. When the moon turns blood.”
“How do we stop him?”
She took a deep breath.
“We give them what they want. A ritual. A sacrifice.”
His head snapped to her. “No.”
“Listen,” she said. “A false ritual. A trap. We lure them. We seal them.”
He stared at her.
“You’d risk that?”
“I already died once,” she whispered. “When Luka rejected me. When my family burned. This is my second life.”
He reached for her hand.
She let him.
And for the first time, they stood not as survivors, but as leaders.
---
In the catacombs, Luka stood before the altar.
The high priest began the incantation.
The gate pulsed with power.
“Soon,” Luka whispered. “She’ll come to stop us. And we’ll take everything.”
He smiled.
“She’s already mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
---
To be continued...
- Writer
