Chapter Thirty-Four: The Blood of the Shadowborn

The ruins seemed to breathe around them.

A soft hum vibrated through the air, coming from the ancient runes etched into the walls. Selene felt it in her bones—a deep, primal energy, old as time itself.

Lucian stood motionless, his silver eyes locked on the glowing symbols. He knew what needed to be done.

But he hesitated.

Draven's voice cut through the silence.

"Well?" he drawled, folding his arms. "Are you going to open it, or should I?"

Lucian's jaw tightened.

Selene could feel the storm beneath his surface—the war inside him. A part of him didn't want to do this. Didn't want to awaken whatever was locked away.

But they had come too far to turn back.

Selene reached for his hand, her fingers threading through his. "We do this together."

Lucian exhaled, his grip tightening around hers.

Then, with slow precision, he lifted his free hand and drew a sharp dagger from his belt. The black steel glinted under the dim light.

Draven's smirk widened. "Always so dramatic."

Lucian ignored him.

He pressed the blade against his palm and, without flinching, dragged it across his skin.

Blood welled up instantly—dark crimson, thick with power.

Selene watched as the first drop hit the carved runes.

And then—everything shifted.

The Awakening

The moment Lucian's blood touched the ancient sigils, the ruins came alive.

The carvings flared, pulsing with silver and deep violet light. The air crackled with energy, and a low, resonant hum filled the chamber.

Selene's breath hitched as she felt the magic. It wasn't just in the walls—it was in the air, in the ground, in the very fabric of this forgotten place.

And it was responding to Lucian.

Draven's eyes gleamed. "Ah. There it is."

Selene barely heard him. She was too focused on the runes as they began to shift—moving, rearranging—like living things. The stone beneath them trembled, and then, with a deep, resounding boom—

The wall in front of them split open.

A corridor stretched beyond, lined with massive, black pillars. The air was colder here, thick with an ancient presence.

Selene swallowed. Something was waiting.

Lucian's voice was low. "We go in."

Draven's smirk didn't falter. "Lead the way, Your Highness."

Lucian shot him a glare before stepping forward.

Selene followed, her heartbeat hammering.

A Chamber of Shadows

The deeper they walked, the heavier the air became.

The walls of the corridor were lined with old banners—tattered but still recognizable. The sigil of the Shadowborn.

A black sun eclipsed in silver flame.

Selene ran her fingers over one of the banners, feeling the ancient fabric beneath her touch. This was more than just a ruin.

It was a tomb.

At the end of the corridor, a massive door loomed before them—made of obsidian, its surface covered in twisting silver veins. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.

Lucian stepped forward, placing a hand against it. The moment he did, the veins flared bright.

And the door creaked open.

Beyond it lay a grand chamber—an ancient throne room, frozen in time.

Selene's breath caught.

The walls were lined with towering statues, their eyes hollow but watchful. The ceiling stretched high, shrouded in darkness, and at the far end of the room—

A throne.

Carved from the darkest obsidian, inlaid with silver and deep crimson gemstones, it sat untouched by time. Dust swirled lazily in the air, as if even time itself had hesitated to move forward.

Selene shivered.

This was a place of power.

Lucian stepped toward the throne, his expression unreadable.

Draven, for once, was silent.

And then—

A voice echoed through the chamber.

"Who dares disturb the Shadowborn?"

The Voice of the Forgotten King

Selene spun around, heart racing.

The voice didn't come from Draven. It didn't come from Lucian.

It came from the throne.

Lucian's body tensed. His silver eyes darkened as he stepped in front of Selene instinctively.

And then, from the shadows behind the throne, a figure emerged.

Tall. Cloaked in deep black, his face half-hidden by a silver mask. The air around him shifted, dark tendrils curling at his feet.

Selene felt it instantly.

This wasn't just another vampire.

This was something… older.

Something undead.

Lucian's voice was tight. "Who are you?"

The figure took another step forward.

And as he did, the torches lining the chamber flared to life.

A cold, dead fire—blue and eerie.

Selene's blood ran cold.

Draven exhaled softly, a rare moment of seriousness settling over him. "Ah. So he still lingers."

Lucian's fists clenched. "You know him?"

Draven's crimson eyes flickered. "Everyone in our bloodline knows him."

Selene's throat felt dry. "Who is he?"

Draven's smirk was gone now, replaced by something dangerous.

"The last King of the Shadowborn."

Lucian's expression darkened. "That's impossible."

Draven chuckled—low and almost hollow.

"Is it?"

The figure finally spoke again, his voice low and ancient.

"You carry my blood, boy. And yet you dare to say my existence is impossible?"

Lucian froze.

Selene stared.

Draven simply sighed. "Well. This just got interesting."

The figure stepped closer, his silver mask gleaming under the cold firelight. His eyes—deep and endless voids—locked onto Lucian's.

And then, he spoke once more—a command.

"Kneel, Shadowborn."

The magic in the room surged.

Selene felt it wrap around them—dark, suffocating. It was trying to force Lucian down. Trying to make him submit.

Selene reacted instantly.

She stepped forward, fire flaring in her palms.

"I don't think so."

The masked figure turned his head toward her, as if noticing her for the first time.

And then—his voice dropped to something even colder.

"Ah. The fireborn."

Selene's breath hitched.

Because the way he said it—

It wasn't with surprise.

It was with recognition.

Like he had been waiting for her.

End of Chapter Thirty-Four