The Blood Thirsty ✨

Chapter 18 – When Monsters Feel Fear

The forest did not breathe.

It held its breath, as if even the ancient trees feared what stood among them.

The air thickened, heavy with ash and old blood, and Lina felt it first — the way her chest tightened, the way her heartbeat staggered, like it recognized something it was never meant to face again. Her feet sank into damp earth as the shadows stretched unnaturally long, crawling toward her ankles like fingers testing how much she remembered.

Nera’s blade was already in her hand.

Not drawn in panic — drawn in instinct.

“Something’s wrong,” Nera said quietly.

The forest answered before Lina could.

A slow clap echoed through the trees.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Mocking. Patient.

“Well done,” a voice murmured, smooth as silk dragged across bone. “You survived longer this time.”

Lina’s breath hitched.

That voice.

Her soul recoiled before her mind could catch up.

The shadows peeled apart.

He stepped forward like he belonged there — like the forest had grown itself into a throne just to hold his presence. Tall. Still. Dressed in black so deep it seemed to swallow light itself. His skin was pale, untouched by age, untouched by guilt. And his eyes—

God.

His eyes were burning embers, ancient and amused.

Zoraver Dracula.

The world tilted.

Lina’s knees almost gave out.

Her hands trembled — not from fear alone, but from memory. From something clawing its way up from the depths of her soul, screaming run and too late at the same time.

Nera stepped in front of her instantly.

“Stay back,” Nera growled.

Zoraver smiled wider.

“Oh, you still do that,” he said pleasantly. “Shield her. Protect her. You always were loyal to the end.”

Nera stiffened.

“What did you just say?”

Zoraver ignored her, his gaze locking onto Lina like a predator finally reunited with its favorite prey.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Breathing. Walking. Alive.”

His eyes gleamed.

“I burned you better than this.”

The forest shifted.

Lina screamed.

The ground beneath her feet vanished — replaced by fire.

Flames roared around her, heat ripping through her lungs, her skin, her bones. She smelled it — burning hair, burning flesh, burning herself. Her throat tore open as she tried to scream, but the fire swallowed the sound whole.

She remembered now.

Chains.

Stone.

Laughter.

His laughter.

“You begged,” Zoraver’s voice whispered inside the memory. “You always begged.”

Lina collapsed to her knees in the present, gasping, clawing at the earth as if it could anchor her. Her palms burned with phantom pain. Her chest felt like it was caving inward.

Nera turned feral.

She lunged.

Steel met darkness.

Zoraver caught her blade with his bare hand.

The sound was deafening.

Metal screamed. The blade cracked.

Nera was thrown back like a doll, slamming into a tree so hard the trunk splintered. She hit the ground and didn’t move.

“No!” Lina sobbed.

Zoraver finally looked bored.

“Relax,” he said calmly. “She doesn’t die today. That would be… repetitive.”

He stepped closer.

Every step made Lina’s power stir violently, like something furious and terrified waking inside her bones. Golden light leaked from her palms, flickering uncontrollably.

Zoraver noticed.

Ah.

There it was.

He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“Still tastes the same,” he murmured. “Sunfire and suffering.”

Lina forced herself to stand.

“You killed me,” she said, voice shaking but loud. “You burned me alive.”

“Yes,” Zoraver agreed. “And I’d do it again.”

He leaned in close.

“But this time, I want you awake when it happens.”

The forest exploded.

Light clashed with shadow. Trees were torn from the ground. Earth cracked open as Lina’s power surged wildly, uncontrolled, raw. Zoraver laughed as the force hit him, sliding back several feet before stopping effortlessly.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Suddenly—

A roar.

Jaxon burst through the trees like a living weapon, fangs bared, eyes blazing with rage so pure it bent the air around him. Dante followed seconds later, shadows curling at his feet like obedient beasts.

Zoraver turned slowly.

“Ah,” he said. “The mistakes.”

Jaxon didn’t speak.

He attacked.

The impact shook the forest.

Fists, claws, power — everything collided in a violent storm. Dante struck from the side, darkness slicing through space itself. For a moment, for a heartbeat, it looked like they might actually win.

Zoraver snapped his fingers.

The world froze.

Jaxon and Dante were slammed into the ground by invisible force, pinned, choking, unable to move.

Zoraver crouched beside Lina, voice low and intimate.

“You see?” he whispered. “No matter how many lives you live… you always come back to me.”

He stood.

“And I’m not done burning you yet.”

The shadows swallowed him whole.

The forest fell silent.

Lina collapsed beside Nera, shaking, sobbing, her hands glowing faintly like dying stars. Jaxon crawled toward her, pain etched into every line of his face. Dante stood frozen, fists clenched, eyes dark with something dangerous and unspoken.

Zoraver was gone.

But his promise wasn’t.

The war had begun.

And Lina knew — with terrifying certainty —

The next time he came for her…

He wouldn’t leave her alive.