A BARGAIN IN BLOOD

The symbol on her wrist pulsed like a second heartbeat, its glow fading into her skin until only a faint trace remained. But Seraphine could still feel it—an invisible tether, a weight that had not been there before.

She yanked her wrist from Caius's grasp, chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths. "You had no right."

Caius didn't flinch. "And yet, I did."

Her fingers curled into fists. Magic oaths were not to be taken lightly. They were ancient, binding—woven into the very fabric of one's soul. Breaking one was impossible. Violating it… catastrophic.

Seraphine knew the old stories. Those who defied a blood oath met fates worse than death.

"You think this will make me your puppet?" Her voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous.

Caius smiled, slow and knowing. "No. I think it will make you listen."

The air between them crackled with unspoken words, with unrelenting fury.

Seraphine turned, pacing the length of the stone chamber, forcing herself to think. She could not afford panic. She could not afford to let her emotions rule her, no matter how much she wanted to claw at his face.

She inhaled sharply. "Fine."

Caius arched a brow. "Fine?"

She turned to face him, arms crossed. "You want vengeance? I want answers. I'll listen. But the moment I decide this is not my fight—" She held up her marked wrist. "You remove this."

His expression did not change. "You misunderstand, Seraphine. That mark cannot be undone."

Her stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said slowly, as if savoring the words, "that the moment our blood mixed, the bond was sealed. It is not a leash. It is a chain."

Seraphine took a slow, measured step toward him, ignoring the way the shadows curled at his feet like eager beasts. "Then you just made the greatest mistake of your life."

Caius chuckled, low and dark. "Did I?"

Her nails bit into her palms. "You think binding me to you gives you control? You think I'll fall in line, just like that?"

"I think," he murmured, "that you haven't decided whether you hate me or need me."

She wanted to slap him.

Instead, she exhaled sharply and turned away.

She needed to focus. Needed to think.

And more than anything—she needed to get out of this damned cave.

Seraphine glanced around, taking in her surroundings more carefully this time. The chamber was wide, its walls lined with faded murals. She stepped closer, brushing her fingers against the stone. The images were old, but she recognized the style—pre-Empire, from the days when magic had not been outlawed.

A woman stood at the center of the mural, cloaked in fire. A serpent coiled around her wrist, its fangs bared. And at her feet—shadow.

Not just shadow. Darkness given form, given hunger.

Seraphine's throat tightened.

This wasn't just history.

It was prophecy.

Her prophecy.

She turned back to Caius. "How long have you known?"

He studied her. "Long enough."

A sharp laugh left her lips. "And what? You decided to find me, claim me before the Inquisition could?"

"Before they could kill you," he corrected.

She hated that she couldn't argue.

Caius stepped closer, voice softer now. "You are the last, Seraphine."

She frowned. "The last what?"

"The last Duskborne. The last true heir of the serpent's line." He exhaled. "And the only one who can stop what's coming."

A chill traced down her spine.

Because for all his arrogance, all his games—Caius Veyne was not a liar.

"What is coming?" she asked quietly.

Caius hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then, he said two words that sent ice through her veins.

"The Harbinger."

---

The Weight of Truth

Seraphine had heard that name before.

Whispered in dark corners. Etched into forbidden texts. A figure of myth and terror, a being older than kingdoms, older than time itself.

The Harbinger was destruction incarnate. A god that had been sealed away long before the rise of the Empire.

And yet—

She swallowed. "That's impossible."

Caius's gaze did not waver. "Is it?"

She wanted to deny it. Wanted to call him a liar, a madman.

But she couldn't.

Not when she had felt something stirring in the depths of the world for years. Not when she had seen the way the sky darkened unnaturally before storms, the way the earth trembled as if something beneath it was waking.

And not when she had felt it in her bones—an unease, a knowing.

Seraphine shook her head. "If what you're saying is true, then we're already doomed."

Caius smirked. "Perhaps."

She glared. "That's not comforting."

"I'm not in the habit of offering comfort, little sorceress."

She exhaled sharply. "Why me?"

Caius studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Because your blood carries the last key to sealing it away."

Her fingers curled around the ring still clutched in her palm.

Her mother.

The Inquisition hadn't just taken her for being a sorceress. They had been looking for something. For someone.

Seraphine's stomach twisted. "You think my mother knew about this?"

"I think she was the only one who did."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Caius took a step back, as if giving her space to process.

She hated that he was right. Hated that she was standing here, bound by a blood oath, with no real choice but to see this through.

But more than anything—

She hated the tiny flicker of something deep inside her.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something worse.

Hope.

---

A Pact Made in Shadows

Seraphine let out a slow breath. "If I help you, if I do this—" She lifted her wrist, letting the faint glow of the oath shimmer in the dim light. "You swear that when it's over, I'm free."

Caius's lips quirked. "I swear."

Seraphine nodded. "Then we have a deal."

Caius extended his hand.

She hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then, she took it.

The shadows curled around their joined hands, sealing the pact in silence.

And deep beneath the earth, something stirred.

Something ancient.

Something waiting.