Chapter 3 003

Lucien looked like he wanted to answer-but didn't.

Sera stepped closer to Evelina, the chapel's dim light flickering against her veil. "The vow your ancestors made centuries ago," she said softly. "When the first vampires came to this land, the Harts were chosen as the mortal keepers of balance. You were the seal."

Evelina shook her head, backing up. "That's impossible. My family was nobility, not... not some magical bloodline."

"They were both," Lucien said grimly. "And Thorne knows it."

Sera's gaze sharpened. "He doesn't just want to marry you, girl. He wants to drain you. To claim the vow and bend it to his will. With your blood, he could unbind the oldest laws. Tear the veil between death and dominion."

The room seemed to grow colder.

"No," Evelina whispered. "That's not what the contract said. My uncle-he said it was a marriage pact."

Lucien's voice was low, tight. "Your uncle lied."

Evelina's knees threatened to give out. She braced herself against a crumbling column, her breath catching. "Why me? Why now?"

"Because you ran," Sera said. "And that mark of yours? It flared when you defied the bond. Magic that old doesn't like being broken. It sent out a cry-and every dark thing heard it."

Evelina glanced at the glowing red sigil on her wrist. The pulse of it had grown stronger, angrier. Like it resented her.

"So what do I do now?" she asked. "Go deeper into hiding? Wait until he finds me and rips me apart?"

"You go to the catacombs," Lucien said. "Find the bloodkeeper. If there's anyone who can strip a vow from your veins without killing you, it's him."

Sera arched a brow. "You'd trust the priest? He's half-mad, Lucien."

Lucien gave her a cold look. "Better mad than dead. Or worse-Thorne's bride."

Sera turned back to Evelina. "I could hide you. Cloak your scent. Bury your presence for a while."

"No," Evelina said, surprising them both. "No more hiding. I've spent my whole life being passed between men who wanted to use me. If this priest can help, then that's where I'm going."

A flicker of something like respect passed over Sera's features.

Lucien gave a curt nod. "Then we move at dusk."

Sera lingered, her glowing eyes unreadable. "You'll need more than fire and courage to survive what's coming, girl."

"I've survived Thorne's lies," Evelina replied. "That's a start."

Sera smirked, then dissolved into mist, her form vanishing into a swirling column of shadow that drifted out the broken stained glass.

Silence settled once more.

Lucien turned to Evelina. "You sure about this?"

"No," she admitted. "But I don't think that matters anymore."

He walked past her, brushing her shoulder lightly. "Then we prepare. And pray the bloodkeeper is still sane enough to help."

By the time the sun dipped below the ruins of Crimson Hollow, Evelina and Lucien had already slipped through the back alleys and into the underground. The streets above had grown quiet-too quiet. As if the city held its breath.

Lucien led the way, his movements deliberate, almost silent. Evelina followed close, the mark on her wrist burning hotter with every step.

They reached an iron grate hidden beneath an abandoned apothecary, and with a grunt, Lucien wrenched it open. Cold air, thick with decay and damp earth, swept up from below.

"The old catacombs," he said. "Built before the courts, before the towers. Some say the first vampires were born here."

Evelina glanced into the yawning blackness. "And now it's home to an exiled priest."

Lucien's smile was grim. "If he hasn't gone fully mad."

They descended into darkness.

The tunnels were narrow and slick, carved from stone that wept moisture and whispered with ancient secrets. Evelina kept her hand near the wall, steadying herself. Shadows clung to every corner, and even with Lucien's presence ahead, she felt exposed-vulnerable.

"What was the vow?" she asked after a while. "The one my bloodline made."

Lucien didn't look back. "A promise. That the Harts would carry the seal. That their line would be a check against pure bloodlust. Against what Thorne has become."

"Why would anyone agree to that?"

"Because once, vampires weren't kings and monsters," Lucien murmured. "They were gods and guardians. The vow was a pact to keep balance between worlds. But Thorne-he wants dominion, not balance."

A fork in the tunnel loomed ahead. Lucien paused, sniffed the air, then turned left.

"How do you know all this?" Evelina asked.

Lucien hesitated. "Because I was raised by someone who still believed in the old ways. Before Thorne silenced them."

They continued deeper until the passage widened into a circular chamber. Faint candlelight flickered from stone sconces. In the center of the room stood a man-tall, gaunt, cloaked in a robe of tattered silver and bone.

He turned slowly, eyes pale as milk, skin the color of old parchment.

"You bring cursed blood into sacred ground," the priest said. His voice echoed unnaturally.

Lucien stepped forward. "We need your help."

The priest's gaze slid to Evelina. "She is marked."

"We know."

"You risk war by coming here."

Evelina stepped beside Lucien. "If you can help me, I'll risk anything."

The priest's head tilted. "And if I cannot break the vow?"

"Then teach me how to kill the one who made it."

A long silence.

Then the priest moved. He circled her slowly, muttering to himself in a language Evelina didn't recognize.

"Your blood sings with the old vow," he murmured. "But there is... something else. A fracture."

Lucien tensed. "What do you mean?"

"She is not only bound to Thorne," the priest said. "Something deeper coils inside her. A second tether. Older. Hidden."

Evelina's stomach twisted. "What kind of tether?"

The priest looked at Lucien. "Not his. Yours."

Lucien went still.

Evelina's voice trembled. "What are you talking about?"

"You touched her," the priest said. "Your blood touched hers. Your magic mingled. The moment she took your hand in the alley, the bond flared. Not enough to overwrite the vow-but enough to leave a mark."

Lucien's face was unreadable.

"That's impossible," Evelina said. "I don't feel anything."

"Not yet," the priest replied. "But if the contract is broken, the tether will rise. He will be the only one strong enough to hold you together. Or tear you apart."

Lucien exhaled sharply. "I didn't mean to-"

"But you did," the priest said. "And now you are tied, vampire and vow-bearer. Threaded through a spell older than any of us."

Evelina took a step back, heart pounding.

"So I traded one bond for another?"

"Not yet," the priest said. "But the choice will come."

"What choice?"

"Between freedom," he said softly, "and him."

Lucien's eyes met hers-and for the first time, Evelina saw fear there. Not for himself.

For her.

The priest lifted a dagger made of bone and obsidian. "If you still want to break the blood contract, the ritual will begin at moonrise."

Evelina clenched her fists.

"I want it gone," she whispered.

Lucien's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

And as the priest began to chant, Evelina felt the mark on her wrist begin to burn-hotter than ever. Not from pain.

From power.

It had begun.