Eternal Night Symbiosis

Chapter 3: The Blood Contract

The icy air hung thick between Vivian and Selena, and the echo of the words “contract bride” pierced through Vivian’s last shred of hope like a tangible icicle. She looked at Selena; that face, both familiar and**, was breathtakingly beautiful in the deep blue glow of the fire, yet cold enough to take her breath away. The smile of their childhood friendship had long been erased by the passage of time and some unknown darkness, leaving only the condescending gaze of a vampire lord.

“Contract… bride?” Vivian’s voice was as dry as sandpaper scraping against bone. “Selena, do you know what you’re saying?” A sense of absurdity nearly overwhelmed her fear. A bride? In a world like this, facing a former friend who was no longer human?

Selena did not answer, merely shifting her body slightly as her dark red pupils swept toward the entrance of the hall, where the outline of the estate loomed faintly through the thick fog. “Your settlement—those ‘ants,’” she emphasized the word deliberately, her voice laced with icy contempt, “their lives and deaths depend on your choice. Accept, and they may cling to life under the manor’s protection. Refuse…” She paused, the cruel curve of her lips deepening. “Beyond the gates lies their graveyard. The Blood Clan’s hunting parties, or the predators of the wilderness, will soon grant them release.”

Vivian’s body shook violently, not from the cold, but from rage and the helplessness of being utterly at her mercy. She snapped her head up, flames burning in her deep brown eyes: “You’ve changed! Selena! You’ve become… a monster!” She tried to focus her mind once more, if only to catch a fragment of Selena’s emotions, but the invisible mental barrier rebuffed her harshly again. A searing, explosive pain shot through her temples, causing her vision to go dark. She staggered, clinging to the cold stone pillar beside her to steady herself.

Selena watched her in agony. Something seemed to sink rapidly in the depths of her dark red eyes—so fast it was almost an illusion. Her voice remained calm and unruffled: “The choice is yours, Vivian. You have ten minutes to decide. Or, I can have the guards ‘escort’ your companions out right now.” She raised her hand elegantly, her pale fingers pointing toward the entrance.

Time crawled slowly in the deathly silence, every second like a heavy lead weight pressing down on Vivian’s heart. Outside the door were thirty-seven compatriots waiting in despair for her to bring back hope; inside, a deal proposed by the person once closest to her—a deal that reduced her to nothing more than a pawn. She recalled A-Jie pushing her arm away as he lay dying, the cries of children amid the settlement’s ruins, and every figure that had collapsed along the arduous journey. Sacrifice? She had long been prepared for that. But a sacrifice like this… offering herself as a sacrifice to a cold, blood-thirsty lord who viewed her as mere property? Becoming his “bride”? This filled her with more fear and humiliation than death itself.

Cold sweat soaked through her thin garments, clinging to her icy skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; the air, mingled with the stench of decay and cold metal, stung her throat. When she opened them again, the fire in her eyes had died out, leaving only a near-deadly weariness and resolve.

“...I accept.” The voice was as soft as a sigh, yet it echoed clearly through the vast hall.

Selena’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly before returning to normal. “A wise choice.” She turned and walked toward the depths of the hall. “Follow me. The contract requires a witness.”

Vivian followed numbly behind her, the “tap, tap” of her high heels on the floor sounding like a death knell for her. They passed through a heavy oak door carved with eerie patterns and entered an even more sinister space. The place resembled a small chapel, with a soaring vaulted ceiling and several thick black stone columns rising on either side, their surfaces entwined with reliefs of thorns and bats. The air was thick with a stronger musty odor and an indescribable, cloying scent—a mixture of rust and withered roses.

At the very front stood a stone altar draped in deep crimson velvet. On either side of the altar, three figures stood motionless and silent.

They wore simple, black robes of unknown material, their hoods pulled low to conceal most of their faces, revealing only pale, bloodless chins and thin, sharp lips. The aura they exuded was even older and colder than Selena’s, carrying a sense of decay that had settled over hundreds of years and an air of absolute authority. Merely standing there, the invisible pressure made Vivian feel as if she could barely breathe, her heart clenched tightly by an icy hand. This was the Elders’ Council of the Blood Clan.

Selena stepped before the altar and gave a slight nod. “Elders.”

The figure in black robes at the center slowly raised a hand—gaunt as an eagle’s claw, skin stretched taut over bone, nails a sickly bluish-gray. He did not look at Selena; the shadow beneath his hood seemed to lock directly onto Vivian. A hoarse voice, like the grinding of sand and stone, rang out with unquestionable authority: “Human, step forward.”

Vivian felt as though she were being pulled by invisible threads, step by step toward the altar. Each step felt extraordinarily heavy. She could feel three icy gazes—like tangible probes—scanning her body, assessing her worth, or rather, evaluating her quality as a “sacrifice.” A sense of humiliation, like a venomous snake, gnawed at her heart.

Selena stood beside the altar, her face expressionless, as if the events unfolding before her had nothing to do with her. She picked up a yellowed scroll made of an unknown material from the altar and slowly unrolled it. The scroll was covered in dense, strange characters written in dark red ink that looked like congealed blood, exuding an ominous aura.

“The terms of the contract,” Selena’s voice rang out with startling clarity in the silent hall, cold and devoid of emotion, “Vivian Bai voluntarily becomes the contractual bride of Selena Yan, binding herself with her flesh, blood, and soul in exchange for Mist Manor’s perpetual protection of her human settlement.”

“First, the contract holder, Vivian Bai, must regularly provide fresh blood to the contract holder, Selena Yan. The timing and dosage shall be determined by the contract holder.”

“Second, the Contracted, Vivian Bai, shall never leave the boundaries of Mist Manor for the rest of her life. Violation shall be deemed treason, rendering the contract void and the protection terminated. The violator and her settlement shall face the blood clan’s most severe punishment.”

“Third, the Contracted must absolutely obey all reasonable commands of the Contract Holder; her life, will, and soul shall belong to the Contract Holder, Selena Yan. ”

“Fourth…”

One by one, the cold, harsh clauses poured from Selena’s mouth, like invisible chains binding Vivian layer by layer. As she listened, her body grew colder and colder, her blood seeming to freeze. Lifelong imprisonment? Regular blood donations? Absolute obedience? She had sold herself to the devil, only to gain a sliver of faint hope for survival.

“...The contract is sealed, sealed with blood, and may never be revoked.” Selena finished reciting the final line. She picked up a strangely shaped pen from the altar, crafted from some kind of black bone, its tip glowing with a faint, eerie light. She looked at Vivian, her dark red pupils showing no emotion: “Sign.”

Vivian’s fingers were ice-cold as she trembled, taking the bone pen. The moment it touched her hand, a chill seeped into her very marrow. She stared at the spot on the parchment where she was to sign; the dark red text seemed to writhe, exuding a nauseating stench. She took a deep breath, mustering every ounce of strength, and signed her name—Vivian Bai—in the spot that signified the complete loss of her self. As the final stroke fell, the dark red text on the parchment suddenly lit up, emitting an eerie red glow. A searing heat traveled up the shaft of the pen, as if branding her soul.

Selena took the pen and, beneath Vivian’s name, signed her own with fluid, elegant strokes—Selena Yan. Her movements showed not a hint of hesitation; the tip of the pen glided across the parchment, leaving a mark that also glowed red. Just as she signed her name, Vivian furrowed her brow slightly at the stinging pain in her soul caused by the contract’s formation and instinctively looked up at Selena.

In that split second, Selena’s gaze seemed to inadvertently sweep over Vivian’s pale neck, where the veins, slightly pulsing with tension, were clearly visible in the dim light. Deep within her eyes, the calm that had always resembled a frozen lake shattered for an extremely brief moment. Vivian’s keen mind-reading ability, in the instant the power of the contract surged, caught a fleeting glimpse of a c***k!

It wasn’t coldness, nor was it contempt. It was a… possessiveness twisted to the extreme, mingled with pain and fervor! Like magma buried deep underground, it surged wildly beneath the solid ice, carrying a scorching heat capable of destroying everything and a near-desperate obsession—“She is mine… must be mine… forever… and only mine…”

This fleeting glimpse into the inner landscape sent a violent shudder through Vivian, terrifying her even more than the soul imprint she had just experienced. She jerked her gaze toward Selena’s face—still flawless and as cold as ever, as if the harrowing inner storm had never occurred. But Vivian knew it was no illusion. Behind Selena’s seemingly cold and ruthless bargain lay a twisted, intense emotion that Vivian could not comprehend.

The glow of the contract gradually faded, and the parchment returned to stillness, appearing as nothing more than an ordinary, old piece of paper. But Vivian knew that invisible shackles had already bound her tightly.

The black-robed elder in the center emitted an indistinct low hum—part sigh, part satisfaction. With a slight wave of his gaunt hand, the other two elders vanished silently behind the stone pillars, as if merging with the shadows.

“The contract is sealed,” Selena’s voice returned to its previous flat tone. She rolled up the parchment with a detached, businesslike air. “Your companion will be housed in the old servants’ quarters on the outskirts of the estate. Remember your promise, Vivian.” She turned, the dark red hem of her skirt sweeping across the cold stone floor. Without another glance at Vivian, she walked straight toward a small door deep within the chapel, her figure soon swallowed by the darkness.

In the vast, eerie hall, only Vivian remained. The* blue flames on the altar flickered, casting flickering shadows across her face. She looked down at her hands; the chill from the bone stylus still seemed to linger at her fingertips. Contract Bride… Prisoner… Vessel for blood…

She slowly raised her head, gazing toward the direction Selena had vanished. Her deep brown eyes were filled with unprecedented confusion and a hint of barely perceptible inquiry. The intense, possessive madness she had glimpsed in Selena’s innermost being just a moment ago was like a pebble tossed into still water, sending ripples of unease through her heart. What hidden secrets lay behind this cold contract? And what kind of future would this Mist Manor—which felt like a giant prison—hold for her?