Chapter 37: Crimson Reverie
The soft rustling of silk echoed in the moonlit chamber as Ella stood by the arched window, her gaze lost in the silver glow of the blood moon hanging like a sentinel over the horizon. Liam stirred beneath the velvety sheets of the four-poster bed, his senses slowly awakening not to the comfort of dawn, but to the unmistakable hum of ancient magic vibrating through the stones of the vampire queen's castle. It had been only hours since he and Ella had sealed the truth of their bond not just with blood, but with trust. That trust now hummed in the very air, a fragile thing, as luminous and dangerous as starlight on a blade.
He sat up slowly, his bare chest catching the glow of candlelight as it flickered across the dark oak walls. Ella didn't turn to him, but her voice, as ever, carried like velvet laced with iron. "The covenant breathes stronger now. The pact you signed… it has awakened something older than both of us."
Liam rose and approached her, his bare feet silent on the cold marble. "Something older? You mean the Blood Contract?"
She turned, her crimson eyes shimmering with a thousand unshed truths. "Not just the Contract. The throne beneath the crypt. The Crimson Reverie. It's stirring."
He blinked. "You're saying a throne is waking up?"
"It's not a metaphor, Liam." She stepped aside, revealing a distant flicker in the mist-shrouded forest beyond the castle. "That throne once ruled not just vampires, but all creatures of the nocturne. And it was sealed because its bearer fell into madness. Now the seal is cracking."
"And this is connected to our bond?"
"Because you bear the mark. The Sigil of Binding didn't just tether you to me—it keyed you into the Crimson Lineage."
He let out a slow breath. "So I'm heir to something I didn't ask for, again?"
She smiled faintly, the weight of centuries behind her eyes. "Fate rarely knocks politely."
Suddenly, a boom shattered the silence. The castle trembled as a flare of red light burst from beneath the forest. Screams echoed—not human, but feral. Something was coming.
Ella grabbed his wrist. "You need to see the crypt."
The descent into the crypts beneath the vampire keep was steeped in enchantments and shadows. The air thickened with each step, and the walls seemed to sigh with memories of old conquests and betrayals. Glyphs lit beneath Ella's footsteps, recognizing her as queen. But when Liam stepped near, they pulsed red-hot.
Ella halted. "It knows you."
"I don't like that it does."
She extended a hand toward the ancient iron door at the end of the corridor, speaking in the Old Tongue. It creaked open with a groan like the world itself yawning.
Inside was the Crimson Reverie.
It was less a throne and more a living relic—a construct of bone, blood-forged steel, and veins of crimson crystal that pulsed with a heartbeat. Symbols crawled over it like runes etched into skin. It shimmered with forbidden power.
Liam staggered. His mark burned. The throne was reacting.
Ella stepped between him and the pulsing relic. "If you sit upon it now, it might consume you."
"I'm not planning to."
"Good. Because others are."
A flare of shadow erupted behind them, and a tall figure emerged—cloaked in midnight, with glowing emerald eyes and a jagged crown of obsidian.
"Lucan," Ella hissed. "You dare return?"
Lucan smiled, sharp as razors. "The boy unlocked the throne. I've merely come to claim what you feared to wield."
Liam moved beside Ella, his fists clenched. "Back off. I don't care what this throne is—I'm not giving it to a psycho vampire cosplaying a dark god."
Lucan's smile widened. "Then die with your queen."
What followed was chaos. Magic lanced through the crypt like lightning in a storm. Ella threw herself into the fight, a whirlwind of blood and shadows, her claws extended, her gown billowing like death incarnate. Liam fought not with magic, but instinct—dodging, striking, his blood thrumming with the rhythm of the Crimson Lineage.
Lucan was powerful—perhaps too powerful. His connection to the throne was old, tangled in betrayal. But Liam had something he didn't: the living bond.
When Lucan tried to strike Ella down with a blade forged from cursed blood, Liam leapt in front of her, taking the blow to his shoulder. Pain seared through him. His blood splattered the throne.
The Crimson Reverie responded.
The throne screamed.
A pulse of raw power exploded outward, throwing all three of them apart. Liam hit the ground, coughing, eyes burning with visions.
Visions of past kings and queens. Of Ella, younger, nobler, weeping as she sealed away her kin. Of Lucan, once her brother, turning dark. Of the Crimson Lineage—each bearer of the blood contract shaping destiny.
And now it was his turn.
He stood, blood dripping from his fingers, the throne calling his name.
Ella screamed, "Don't!"
He didn't sit. But he touched it.
The throne accepted.
Runes crawled up his arm. His wound sealed. Lucan vanished in a vortex of screaming shadows.
Ella dropped to her knees, staring at him. "You've become something else."
Liam looked down at his hand. Power coiled there. Not destructive, but potent. Alive.
"I didn't choose this," he murmured.
She rose and embraced him. "But you did not run. And that makes you worthy."
In the darkness, the throne pulsed gently. Awaiting its bearer. Awaiting the trials to come.
Above them, the blood moon pulsed once more, a crimson eye watching the beginning of a new reign.
—End of Chapter 37—