The Blood Thirsty ✨

CHAPTER THREE — Threads of Fate

The city had changed, though Lina couldn’t see it yet. London, normally a maze of familiar sounds and smells, felt stretched, unrecognizable, like a dream where edges flicker and blur. Every shadow seemed to pulse with life, every echo carried meaning she couldn’t quite grasp.

Lina pressed the Masked Lady book against her chest as she leaned against the cold stone of the old church. The words she had read earlier now burned in her mind: “Two sisters. Two souls. Four destinies. The blood will call. The night will answer.”

Her heartbeat thrummed with a mixture of fear and something else—recognition. Something in her stirred, a memory she could not place. A life she had never lived, and yet somehow, she had.

She didn’t hear the footsteps at first. They were soft, deliberate, calculated. But then a shadow separated from the darker shadows outside the church doors, stepping into the slivers of moonlight spilling across the floor.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” the voice said, low, commanding, but not cruel.

Lina’s head snapped up. Jaxon. His dark eyes held a depth that unsettled her, like looking into water too deep to see the bottom. Her hands tightened on the book.

“Who… who are you?” she asked, voice wavering.

“I’m someone who knows what’s coming,” he said, stepping closer, but not too close. “And you… you’re part of it whether you like it or not.”

Lina swallowed hard. Something in his presence made the hairs on her neck stand on end. It wasn’t fear exactly—it was… anticipation.

“Part of what?” she asked, almost daring him to answer.

“Everything,” Jaxon said simply, as though that explained enough.

Meanwhile, Nera moved through streets she barely recognized, chasing shadows that were no longer human.

Marcus’s safety was the only thing keeping her grounded. Every instinct she had screamed at her that these attackers were more than ordinary thugs or criminals. Their movements were fluid, unnatural, precise. Eyes glinting with hunger, teeth sharp and glinting in the moonlight.

Her pulse drummed in her ears as she darted between alleyways, the soft hiss of pursuit always just behind her. And then she felt it: a presence like a clawed hand pressing against her chest. A voice, cold and metallic, whispered her name.

“Nera.”

Her blood ran cold. She stopped, spinning, blade ready. But no one stood there—only shadows. Yet the air vibrated with intent, and she knew, with a certainty that had no room for doubt, that Zoraver was near.

The same Zoraver who had haunted the whispers of her nightmares for years.

And he wasn’t alone.

Lina’s night grew stranger.

Jaxon’s presence was constant, hovering at the edges of her awareness, like a shadow tethered to light. His gaze was sharp, assessing, and occasionally softer, as if he were trying to communicate something unspoken.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked, stepping closer.

“I… I don’t know,” Lina admitted, her fingers clutching the book. “Sometimes… I feel like I’ve… lived before. Or someone has lived for me. It’s like a memory I can’t reach.”

Jaxon nodded. “That’s the awakening. It’s starting. You and… someone else. A twin soul. Two halves that were split, trapped, waiting.”

Lina’s heart skipped. “Twin… soul?”

“Yes,” he said. “And when you meet her, when you finally see each other… the world changes. For all of you. But be warned—there are forces that want to stop it. Forces older than you can imagine. And they are already hunting.”

Something stirred in Lina’s chest. Fear, yes—but also hope. Recognition. She felt it somewhere inside her core, a pull toward someone she didn’t yet know.

Nera’s pursuit brought her to the edge of the old city cemetery.

Moonlight glinted off the iron gates, casting long shadows over the gravestones. She slowed, listening. The shadows shifted, almost like a tide. And then she saw him—Zoraver.

Tall, imposing, a figure draped in black that seemed to drink the moonlight. Eyes like burning coals pierced the dark, fixating on her.

“You came,” he said, voice like silk over steel. “But you’re too late. Your brother… your connection… all of it is mine to claim.”

Nera’s breath hitched, her body tensing. “I’ll never let you touch him,” she spat, stepping forward, blade raised.

Zoraver smiled, and it was a smile that promised pain, domination, and despair. “Oh, Nera… it’s never about permission. Fate doesn’t ask. It takes. It always takes.”

The shadows around him stirred, writhing like living things, and Nera realized she was no longer alone in the alley. Figures moved within the darkness—soulless, hungry, waiting.

Her mind raced. Fight or flight—there was no time for hesitation.

Back to Lina, who felt an unnatural pull.

The air in the church thickened, and the Masked Lady book hummed against her chest. The whispers inside were louder now, clearer.

“She comes… the other half… find her before the night consumes all.”

Lina’s eyes widened. The words struck her like a thunderclap. She didn’t need to know how—but she understood. Someone out there was connected to her. Someone she had been searching for without knowing.

And it had to be Nera.

Jaxon moved beside her, silent, observing her reaction. “Yes,” he said softly. “You’re feeling her. The connection is alive. Stronger than you realize. Strong enough to awaken powers that were buried… suppressed… killed once, but never truly dead.”

The weight of his words pressed down on Lina, a mixture of dread and exhilaration.

Nera’s confrontation escalated.

She fought, each movement precise, deadly, but the shadows were relentless. Zoraver’s power was palpable, suffocating, pushing her to her limits. And then, in the chaos, she felt it—something stirring inside her. A surge of heat, a pulse, an energy that wasn’t entirely hers, yet it was.

“Lina…” The name echoed in her mind, soft and insistent. A whisper she couldn’t explain, yet one that burned her soul.

Her blade faltered for a moment, and in that instant, the world shifted.

The shadows recoiled slightly, a hiss breaking through the night. Zoraver’s eyes narrowed, as if he sensed what she had just discovered.

“You are awakening,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “But know this… the night will always hunger for what is yours.”

Nera’s hands shook—not from fear, but from recognition. The connection was undeniable now, and her heart beat faster with the certainty that Lina existed, somewhere, feeling the same pull she did.

And together, they would face what was coming.

The chapter closes on Lina, alone in the church, clutching the Masked Lady book.

Moonlight spilled across the pages, revealing words that had never been there before:

"Soon, the sisters will meet. Four souls will unite. The past will awaken. The blood will rise. And the darkness… will notice."

Lina swallowed hard, a shiver running down her spine. Outside, shadows pressed against the stained glass, moving closer. A faint, almost imperceptible growl rattled the air.

The night was alive.

The night was hungry.

And Lina understood, in the deepest part of her being, that nothing would ever be the same again.