Chapter 38: The Throne's Whisper
The silence after the chaos felt unnatural, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Liam stood at the base of the Crimson Reverie, his hand still glowing faintly from where the runes had etched themselves into his skin. The throne pulsed softly now—not violently as it had during Lucan's intrusion, but with a steady, resonant hum, like the heartbeat of an ancient beast merely waiting.
Ella's arms remained around him, but her breath trembled. "It accepted you. It should have destroyed you."
He nodded slowly, eyes unfocused. "I didn't sit. I didn't take its power. Just… touched it."
"That was enough," she murmured. "It's chosen you now."
Liam didn't want to ask what that meant. But the truth pressed on him like a weight. "So what happens now?"
Ella pulled back and looked at him—truly looked at him. There was reverence in her gaze, but also fear. "Now, the other bloodlines will come for you."
"Other bloodlines?"
She nodded. "The Crimson Reverie was sealed away because it became a source of madness, war, and ambition. Only one bloodline remained to protect it—mine. But others still exist. Scattered vampire dynasties, hidden and powerful. When they sense the throne has awakened, they will either try to claim it—or destroy you to stop a new ruler from rising."
Liam stared at his hand again. The runes had faded, but the sensation lingered. A quiet hum, like a whisper in the back of his skull, constant, just beneath thought.
"They'll come soon," Ella said. "And we're not ready."
---
They left the crypt in silence, the echoes of Lucan's attack still reverberating through the castle like a warning bell. Servants scurried through the halls, cleaning, repairing, and avoiding Liam's gaze.
He had been human when he arrived here—reluctantly bound to a queen by blood and error. Now he was something else.
At the dining hall, Arabelle, the high steward and a loyal vampire of Ella's court, waited with a folded document in her hand. "Your Majesty. My Lord." She gave Liam a short, uncertain bow. "A summons from the Night Council."
Ella stiffened. "Already?"
"They request an audience with the bearer of the Throne's Mark."
Liam blinked. "That was fast."
Ella took the scroll, cracked the seal, and read in silence. Then she handed it to Liam. "They've summoned us to the Sanctum of Dusk. Neutral ground."
He scanned the flowery language, his unease growing. "If it's neutral ground, does that mean they won't attack me?"
Ella's silence spoke volumes.
---
The journey to the Sanctum of Dusk took them through the Veiled Realms, a fractured world suspended in twilight between reality and dream. It was a place only accessible to those bound by the blood, and the terrain changed with one's emotions.
As they traveled in a carriage pulled by shadowbeasts, the forest around them twisted. Trees leaned in, branches whispering secrets.
Liam sat opposite Ella. "You were part of the Council, once?"
She nodded. "Centuries ago. Before I abdicated the throne."
He leaned forward. "Why did you? Why seal the Crimson Reverie?"
Her jaw clenched. "Because I killed someone I loved. A king who sat on that throne. My consort. He fell to its madness. And I had to end him before he tore the realm apart."
Liam swallowed. "You never told me that."
"Because I didn't want you to know what the throne could do."
"Is that why you tried to stop me from touching it?"
"Yes. And why I'll do everything to make sure you never sit on it."
---
The Sanctum of Dusk rose like a monument carved from starlight and sorrow. Tall obsidian spires pierced the sky, and waterfalls of black mist flowed from hidden mouths across the cliffs. Vampires from all corners of the realm gathered on the terraces—lords, warriors, and ancient ones wrapped in ceremonial robes.
Liam's presence silenced the air.
Ella held his arm tightly as they approached the high dais. Seven thrones lined the stone semicircle at the top, each bearing a different sigil—representing the great bloodlines.
Only three were occupied.
An old vampire with skin like marble and eyes like storms spoke first. "The boy has awakened the throne."
A slender woman with silver hair and an eyeless face nodded. "He bears the runes. The throne has not done that in eons."
The third, a brute of a man with tusk-like fangs and armor carved from dragonbone, growled. "He's untested. A mortal with stolen blood. He's a threat."
Ella stepped forward. "He is under my protection."
"Then your protection binds you to his fate," the silver-haired woman said. "If he falls, you fall."
Liam took a step forward. "What do you want from me?"
"To test your will," the old one said. "If the throne has chosen you, you must endure the Rite of Crimson Waters."
Ella paled. "That rite hasn't been used in centuries."
"Then it is time it was revived."
---
They led Liam to a chamber beneath the Sanctum. A vast underground lake shimmered with blood-red light. The Rite was simple in theory—he would submerge himself in the waters, and if the bloodline truly accepted him, he would emerge alive, changed. If not—he would drown in the memories of every ruler before him.
Ella clutched his hand before he entered. "You don't have to do this."
"I do," he said softly. "I need them to stop seeing me as a mistake."
He stepped into the water.
And the water swallowed him.
---
Memories surged.
He was not himself anymore.
He was a king of ages past, raising a blade forged in moonfire.
He was a queen sobbing over the corpse of her beloved.
He was a tyrant laughing as cities burned.
He was Ella, younger and radiant, sealing away the throne with tears and fury.
Time folded. Faces blurred. He screamed—but no sound escaped.
Then he saw himself—standing before the throne, hand extended.
Will you take it?
He shook his head.
Then will you lead without it?
"Yes," he said.
The waters surged upward.
---
He awoke gasping on the stone floor. The Council stood in silence.
The old vampire approached and offered a hand.
"You are marked not just by the throne, but by restraint. That is rare. You are... accepted."
Ella dropped to her knees, relief breaking her mask.
The silver-haired vampire knelt next. "The line of blood endures."
The brute just grunted. "Let's see how long he lasts."
---
That night, as they returned to the castle, Liam stood on the balcony, watching the stars flicker.
Ella joined him, her expression unreadable.
"You're becoming something I never imagined," she said.
He smiled faintly. "A vampire king?"
She touched his cheek. "A ruler who chooses to resist power, even when offered."
He leaned into her touch. "I'm still afraid."
"Good," she said. "It means you still have your soul."
Beneath them, the forest whispered. Somewhere far off, the Crimson Reverie pulsed once more—waiting.
But for now, peace held.
For now.
---
End of Chapter 38