THE CRIMSON VOW CHAPTER 2
1015 Words
THE CRIMSON VOW
Chapter Two: The Mark of Fate
Silence swallowed the room.
The silver and crimson light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
Yet the air remained charged.
Alive.
Dangerous.
Dante stared at his hand.
A strange symbol had appeared on the inside of his wrist.
Black flames twisted around a crimson crown.
The mark pulsed once.
Then settled beneath his skin.
Across from him, Seraphina looked equally stunned.
Slowly, she pushed back the sleeve of her dress.
An identical symbol glowed on her wrist.
Neither spoke.
Neither breathed.
Victor finally broke the silence.
"What in the Seven Kingdoms is that?"
No one answered.
Because everyone knew.
Or at least they knew the stories.
Ancient legends whispered of a magical bond forged before the founding of the kingdoms.
A connection so powerful that even death struggled to break it.
A bond that had not appeared in nearly a thousand years.
The Blood Vow.
Dante's expression darkened.
Impossible.
The Blood Vow was nothing more than a myth.
A fairy tale told to children.
Yet the mark on his wrist was real.
Very real.
Seraphina looked ready to commit murder.
Possibly several murders.
Starting with him.
"This is your fault."
Dante laughed.
"My fault?"
"You're the Shadowborn."
"And you're the one carrying enough magical energy to level a city."
"At least my magic behaves itself."
The floor beneath them cracked.
Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Behaves itself?"
Her glare could have melted steel.
Victor took another step toward the door.
Smart man.
Suddenly the mark burned.
Both Dante and Seraphina flinched.
Pain exploded through their wrists.
A vision slammed into their minds.
Fire.
Screams.
Blood.
A battlefield covered in bodies.
Thousands of warriors kneeling before a throne made of black crystal.
A king sat upon it.
His face hidden beneath shadows.
Beside him stood a queen crowned in crimson flames.
Then came the voice.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Terrifying.
"Find the Heart of Midnight."
The vision shattered.
Dante stumbled backward.
Seraphina grabbed the edge of the desk for support.
Victor looked horrified.
"What happened?"
Dante's pulse hammered.
For the first time in years, genuine unease settled inside him.
The voice had felt real.
Too real.
As though something had spoken directly into his soul.
Seraphina slowly lifted her gaze.
"You heard it too."
It wasn't a question.
"Noctara's cursed moon."
Dante rubbed his jaw.
"I heard it."
"The Heart of Midnight."
The words hung between them.
Both recognized the name.
Every child in the realm knew the legend.
The Heart of Midnight was said to be the first source of magic.
A relic capable of reshaping kingdoms.
Some believed it granted immortality.
Others claimed it could awaken gods.
Most scholars agreed it didn't exist.
But if the vision was real...
Someone—or something—wanted them to find it.
The thought was deeply unsettling.
A sudden explosion rocked Ravenkeep Tower.
The entire chamber shook violently.
Alarms echoed throughout the fortress.
Dante's eyes hardened instantly.
All traces of uncertainty vanished.
The mafia king returned.
"What was that?"
Before anyone could answer, the doors burst open.
A bloodied guard stumbled inside.
"My lord!"
Dante moved immediately.
"What happened?"
The guard collapsed to one knee.
"The western gate."
"Speak."
"We're under attack."
The room froze.
Victor frowned.
"By whom?"
The guard's face turned pale.
"We don't know."
Dante narrowed his eyes.
"You don't know?"
"There are hundreds of them."
"Hundreds of who?"
The guard swallowed hard.
His next words sent ice through the room.
"They aren't human."
A terrible silence followed.
Then another explosion thundered from below.
This one closer.
Much closer.
Dante crossed the room in seconds.
The balcony doors flew open.
Rain lashed against his face.
Lightning split the sky.
And for the first time in years...
The ruler of Noctara felt genuine shock.
The city was burning.
Black creatures swarmed through the streets.
Their bodies resembled wolves.
Yet they were far larger.
Far deadlier.
Their eyes glowed crimson.
Smoke poured from their mouths.
Citizens fled in terror.
Soldiers died beneath claws and teeth.
And above the chaos...
Something enormous moved through the storm clouds.
Something with wings.
Seraphina joined him on the balcony.
Her face paled.
"No..."
Dante looked at her.
"You know what those things are?"
Her answer came immediately.
"Nightborn."
Victor's eyes widened.
"Impossible."
"I wish it were."
The Nightborn had vanished centuries ago.
Ancient monsters created during the First War.
Creatures born from corrupted magic.
Entire armies once fell before them.
Every historical record claimed they had been exterminated.
Apparently history had lied.
A deafening roar shook the city.
The enormous shape in the clouds descended.
Lightning illuminated its form.
Massive black scales.
Golden eyes.
Wings that blotted out the moon.
A dragon.
A living dragon.
The beast circled above Noctara.
Then its gaze locked directly onto Ravenkeep Tower.
Onto Dante.
The dragon opened its mouth.
Fire erupted from its throat.
"Move!" Dante shouted.
The world exploded.
Flames crashed into the tower.
Stone shattered.
Glass erupted inward.
The balcony disappeared beneath an ocean of fire.
Dante grabbed Seraphina and threw both of them backward.
Heat scorched the air.
The impact sent them crashing across the floor.
The chamber collapsed around them.
Screams echoed below.
Dust filled the room.
For several moments, chaos reigned.
Then silence.
Dante pushed himself upright.
Blood ran down his forehead.
Across the room, Seraphina was already standing.
Sword in hand.
Ready for battle.
Their eyes met.
No insults.
No arguments.
No hostility.
Only understanding.
Because both realized the same terrifying truth.
The attack wasn't random.
The Nightborn hadn't come for Noctara.
The dragon hadn't targeted the city.
It had targeted them.
Specifically them.
Then, from somewhere inside the smoke, a voice echoed.
Cold.
Ancient.
Filled with hatred.
"The Heirs have awakened."
Dante's blood turned to ice.
The voice continued.
"And this time..."
A shadow emerged from the flames.
Tall.
Armored.
Not entirely human.
Its glowing eyes fixed upon the marks on their wrists.
"...we will finish what we started a thousand years ago."
The figure drew a blade made of darkness.
And smiled.
The war of legends had just begun.
- Writer
