The Blood Thirsty ✨

CHAPTER FOUR — Convergence

Lina’s footsteps echoed through the silent streets as if the city itself were holding its breath. The Masked Lady book felt heavier in her hands, the words almost searing into her skin. Every shadow seemed alive, every whisper in the wind a beckoning call she could not ignore.

The pull had grown stronger since the night in the church. It wasn’t just instinct or intuition—Lina could feel a tug inside her chest, as if someone far away were reaching across time and space, searching for her.

Someone like me…

She shivered, turning a corner, and froze.

A flicker of movement, a shadow too fluid to be ordinary, passed between the alleys ahead. Her heart clenched with recognition, though she didn’t know why. The air vibrated, as if the city itself were aware that something monumental was about to happen.

Then she heard it—a whisper, soft, insistent, almost like a heartbeat.

“Lina…”

Her breath hitched. The voice was foreign, yet intimate, a mirror of her own thoughts. The pull inside her surged, nearly knocking her to her knees. Someone was near. Someone who mattered.

Nera was feeling the same.

The cemetery had emptied, but the memory of Zoraver lingered like smoke in her mind. Her hands still tingled from the surge of power she had felt, and though it frightened her, it also exhilarated her. She could feel it—something alive within her, waiting to be awakened fully.

And then she heard it too. A whisper riding on the wind, carrying a name she did not expect to know so intimately.

“Nera…”

The sensation was magnetic, pulling her forward, through the streets, across bridges, and into the city she thought she knew. Her heart pounded with urgency, but it was not fear that drove her—it was recognition. The twin flame, the other half of her soul.

She could feel Lina.

Jaxon watched from the shadows, unseen.

His dark eyes narrowed as he observed Lina weaving through the streets, following a pull she didn’t yet understand. Dante stood beside him, silent, but equally tense. Both knew what was coming—the convergence of the sisters was imminent, and with it, the awakening of a power long buried.

“Do you think they’re ready?” Dante asked, voice low.

Jaxon’s lips curved into a faint, grim smile. “Ready or not, fate doesn’t wait. And Zoraver has been patient for centuries. He won’t wait either. When they meet… everything changes. And if they fail… everything dies.”

Dante’s eyes darkened. “Then we need to make sure they survive long enough to awaken fully.”

Jaxon’s gaze lingered on Lina. “It’s not just survival. They have to remember. Their past lives, their deaths, the reason Zoraver killed them in the first place. Only then will they have a chance.”

Meanwhile, Lina and Nera’s worlds drew closer.

Lina felt the pull stronger than ever, almost unbearable. It led her to the old city square, where the fountains had dried but the marble statues still stood, weathered by centuries. She paused, sensing a presence—a mirror of herself, a reflection in the shadows.

Nera, drawn by the same invisible thread, stepped into the square from the opposite side. Their eyes met, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

Time stuttered.

Two souls separated by fate and death, yet bound by something deeper than life itself, finally glimpsed one another.

“You…” Lina whispered, her voice trembling.

“You…” Nera replied, equally shaken.

It was recognition, not just of form, but of essence. Memories that weren’t memories flickered in their minds—moments of laughter and pain, betrayal and love, all echoing across lifetimes. The sensation was overwhelming, yet undeniable.

Jaxon and Dante remained hidden, watching, ready to intervene if Zoraver appeared. They exchanged a tense glance—the awakening was beginning, but the sisters didn’t yet understand its magnitude.

Zoraver, far away, sensed it too.

In the dark halls of his lair, his eyes glowed like coals. His fingers tapped against the obsidian table, a cruel rhythm that mirrored his anticipation.

“They are awakening,” he whispered to the shadows around him. “The twin flames… the sisters… they feel each other. Soon, they will converge. And when they do, the power that was stolen from me will rise again. I must be ready.”

His voice was a promise of destruction, but also of obsession. Lina and Nera were not merely threats—they were unfinished business, souls he had hunted and killed before. Their meeting would either bring him ultimate triumph or awaken the very powers he sought to suppress.

Back in the square, Lina reached out instinctively.

Her hand trembled as it moved toward Nera, and Nera mirrored the motion. The space between them seemed impossibly small and yet vast, as if a thin veil separated two worlds. When their fingertips brushed, a shockwave of energy surged through both of them.

They gasped, stumbling back, but their eyes never broke contact. The city around them seemed to fade, leaving only the pulsing connection of their souls.

“You feel it too,” Lina whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yes,” Nera replied, her chest heaving. “Everything… everything inside me… it’s like it’s been waiting for this moment.”

In that instant, the air shimmered, and the faintest glow surrounded them. Their hearts beat in tandem, a rhythm older than memory, a song of lifetimes intertwined.

Jaxon stepped forward, finally revealing himself.

“Enough hiding,” he said, voice calm but authoritative. “You two are stronger together than apart. But Zoraver knows. He’s coming. And when he does, you’ll need every ounce of the power that’s waking inside you.”

Lina and Nera turned toward him, startled. But there was trust in his gaze, a promise of guidance in a world that had suddenly become unbearably dangerous.

“And Dante,” Jaxon added, “will help as well. But remember—this isn’t just about fighting. It’s about awakening your true selves, your past, your destiny. Only then can you survive what’s coming.”

For a brief, suspended moment, the world felt fragile, but alive.

The sisters’ souls pulsed, resonating across time, space, and memory. The city square, once ordinary and mundane, had transformed into a nexus of fate. Lina and Nera were no longer just two strangers with a connection—they were forces of destiny, bound to each other, and to the men who had entered their lives as guides, protectors, and witnesses.

But lurking in the periphery, Zoraver’s presence grew, a shadow threading through reality like a poison. He would not be denied. And soon, the first battle for their souls would begin.

The night whispered, carrying promises of awakening, danger, and the blood that had yet to be spilled.

And for the first time, Lina and Nera understood the weight of what they had been brought into—and why their souls had been waiting for this convergence across lifetimes.