The Blood Thirsty ✨

Chapter Twelve – The First Confrontation

The night had fallen like a shroud over the ruined city, casting everything in shades of silver and obsidian. Lina and Nera could feel the pulse of power in the air, raw and electric, a rhythm that mirrored the beat of their own hearts. The cathedral had been only the beginning; Zoraver’s shadow now stretched across the city, seeking them, testing them.

Lina’s fingers glowed faintly as she walked beside Nera, golden light curling like a living flame. Nera’s shadowed wings wrapped around her shoulders, protective and watchful, feathers twitching at every distant sound. They were more than two girls now—they were twin forces, light and dark, bound by centuries of memory and pain.

Jaxon and Dante flanked them, every sense alert. “He’s near,” Dante whispered, eyes scanning the broken skyline. “I can feel his presence… tasting our fear.”

“Then we don’t give him any,” Lina said, determination sparking in her chest. Her golden light flared, warm and brilliant, washing over the streets. “We face him. Together.”

Nera’s dark aura mirrored her, feathers bristling. “Together,” she echoed, and the word carried centuries of whispered promises, of deaths and rebirths, of love and loss.

They entered a ruined plaza, the ground cracked and littered with debris. A chill wind swept across the space, carrying with it whispers—mocking, seductive, cruel. Zoraver appeared then, his figure emerging from the shadows like smoke made flesh. He was taller than any mortal man, clad in dark silk and leather that shimmered with the unnatural light of his own power. His eyes glowed crimson, and a smile curved across his pale face—empty of warmth, full of malice.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth, venomous. “The little light and the Raven, reborn. And their companions… how quaint.”

Lina’s light surged instinctively, golden flames licking her hands. “Quaint?” she spat. “We are not what you remember, Zoraver. We are stronger, and we will not bow to you again.”

Nera’s shadow rose around her like a cloak of living night, feathers sharp and jagged. “Your reign ends tonight,” she hissed. Her eyes, dark and glowing, met his, unwavering.

Zoraver laughed, a sound that made the very air vibrate. “End? Oh, my little souls… you are still bound by fear. You cannot even imagine the power I wield.” He raised a hand, and the ground trembled. Shadows erupted, black tendrils writhing toward them, sharp and alive.

Lina and Nera moved as one. Golden light and black shadow intertwined, forming a barrier, a storm, a force that pushed back the creeping darkness. “Jaxon, Dante—together!” Lina shouted.

Jaxon and Dante nodded, moving with lethal precision, striking down the minions that Zoraver had sent. Yet the villain was patient, his gaze fixed on Lina and Nera. He was waiting for the moment when fear, doubt, or hesitation would strike—a moment that would never come.

“My little light,” Jaxon whispered, taking Lina’s hand in the chaos, grounding her, anchoring her to the mortal plane even as her power surged. Lina’s heart fluttered at the nickname, and she felt her flames grow hotter, brighter, stronger.

“My Raven,” Dante murmured to Nera, voice thick with devotion. Nera’s shadowed wings expanded fully, feathers slicing the air with lethal grace, her darkness responding to the whispered name with feral intensity.

Zoraver hissed, frustration flickering across his face. “So… this is the power you’ve buried in yourselves? Pathetic.” He struck the ground with his staff, sending a shockwave that cracked the plaza in half. Lina and Nera were thrown back, but the four of them recovered instantly, their bond unbroken.

“You can’t stop what’s inside us,” Lina shouted, rising into the air, golden flames burning around her like a halo. “We are alive. We are free. And we will not fall!”

Nera mirrored her, shadows rising like wings, feathers slicing the darkness. “We are not victims,” she said, voice low, dangerous, and beautiful. “We are the storm.”

The battle erupted in full force. Lina and Nera’s powers had evolved—they were not just defensive, but offensive, weaving light and shadow into weapons of pure energy. Jaxon and Dante moved like shadows themselves, striking with precision, their devotion to the girls giving them a strength beyond mere mortals.

Zoraver snarled, the first time in centuries he had felt fear. His minions fell, shredded by the twin storm of light and dark. His power alone was not enough to match the unity of the four of them. And in that realization, something primal stirred in Lina and Nera—something ancient, something that remembered death, betrayal, and love.

Lina’s eyes locked on Zoraver, golden fire igniting in her chest. “You cannot control us anymore,” she said, flying forward, light radiating from her like a sun breaking through the night.

Nera followed, shadow wings extended, darkness wrapping around her like a blade. “You killed us once, but we’ve returned. And we remember everything.”

For the first time, Zoraver hesitated, sensing the depth of their awakening. And in that moment, Lina and Nera’s hands met, golden and black energy swirling around them, binding them into one unstoppable force. Jaxon and Dante flanked them, the four of them a perfect unity of love, power, and vengeance.

“My little light,” Jaxon whispered again, and Lina felt her strength double, the name a promise and a weapon all at once.

“My Raven,” Dante said, and Nera’s shadow expanded, feathers slicing through Zoraver’s defenses, cutting him off from his minions.

And then the storm truly began.