Chapter 15: blood wears a crown
The snow melted faster than it fell. Not because the season was changing, but because something else was breathing heat into the world again—something powerful, malevolent, and hungry.
Cain could feel it in his bones.
As they descended the mountain, silence trailed behind them like a haunting. The fire from the pyre still pulsed faintly in his chest, a remnant of the flame Varos had given him. It was like carrying a part of the sun—beautiful, but blistering if he lost control.
Ayden walked a few paces ahead, his coat flapping in the wind, jaw clenched. He hadn't said much since the vision in the temple, but Cain could sense the storm raging inside him. Ayden had always worn his pain like armor. Now it was becoming a weapon.
Lucien was quieter too. For once, he didn't crack a joke or flash a smirk. He walked with his hands stuffed into his pockets, glancing every now and then toward the sky—as if expecting it to fall.
Corin was gone again. Typical. The man was smoke, appearing only when convenient or infuriating.
Rei, however, was the same. Calm. Sharp. Distant. Her eyes, like blades of silver, were constantly scanning the horizon. When she did speak, it was only to warn them of incoming energy spikes or subtle shifts in the realm's veil.
They reached the village of Kishiro by dusk. A quiet, hidden place nestled between dead woods and winding rivers. Once a sanctuary for vampires who had turned their backs on violence, now it was... wrong.
Dead wrong.
The streets were empty. The air smelled metallic—faint like blood left to dry too long. The lanterns didn't flicker. No footsteps echoed. The silence felt staged.
"Something's off," Lucien said, drawing his twin daggers. "No way an entire village just goes quiet unless it's hiding something. Or... something's hiding in it."