Chapter 50 – A Fateful Truth

Elena's fingers trembled as she traced the worn edges of the ancient book, its brittle pages whispering beneath her touch. The candlelight flickered violently, as if the shadows themselves were straining to see what she had just uncovered.

Her heart pounded as she read the words etched into the parchment:

"The cursed one walks among the living, bound by blood and fate. Only she who bears the mark of the past may restore what has been lost… but at a price."

Her breath hitched. Her mind raced to make sense of the words, yet deep down, something inside her already knew. A name glared back at her, standing out among the aged text—

Leon Blackwell.

Elena felt the blood drain from her face. She skimmed through the page frantically, absorbing the chilling details of a being condemned to roam the earth, shackled to a fate written long before she was even born.

Leon wasn't just a man enshrouded in mystery. He wasn't merely someone with a dangerous past.

He was a vampire.

Her hands curled tightly around the book as the weight of the truth crashed down on her. Every unexplained event, every eerie moment, every time he had looked at her as though he knew her before—it all made sense now.

Her mind screamed at her to stop reading, but her fingers disobeyed, flipping to the next passage. And there, written in ink that had long faded to brown, was the revelation that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Only through the sacrifice of lifeblood shall the forsaken be reborn. To restore the fallen, she must surrender to the bond—accept the mark, or let him wither to dust."

Her breath hitched. Her blood.

The candlelight flickered, shadows stretching ominously across the walls as she read those words again. If Leon was dying—if he had been weakened—then the only way to save him…

Her stomach twisted.

She'd have to let him mark her.

A dull roaring filled her ears. Marking—what did that even mean? Would it bind her to him? Would it change her? Would she still be herself?

Her vision blurred as fear gripped her, yet another emotion lurked beneath it. A whisper of something unfamiliar… something dangerous.

The room suddenly turned ice-cold. The candle extinguished with a hiss, plunging her into darkness. The book's pages rustled as if whispering secrets meant only for her ears.

And then—footsteps.

Fast. Urgent.

A sharp voice cut through the silence.

"Elena!"

She barely had time to react before the door flew open, and Leon stood in the doorway.

His usually composed demeanor was gone—his chest heaved with ragged breaths, his eyes, stormy and fierce, locked onto her with an intensity that sent a jolt through her.

But something was wrong.

His stance wavered. His lips were paler than usual. And his eyes—dark, bottomless pools—were filled with something she had never seen before.

Desperation.

Her fingers tightened around the book.

He saw it.

His gaze dropped to the open pages, and for the first time, fear flickered across his face. Not anger. Not frustration. Fear.

"Elena," his voice was raw, lower than usual. "You don't understand what you're reading."

She swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. "Then explain it to me."

Leon's jaw tightened. A muscle in his neck twitched. "Not here."

He took a step forward, reaching for her, but Elena recoiled. She saw the flicker of pain in his expression, but he masked it quickly.

"You're weak," she whispered. "Aren't you?"

His silence was enough of an answer.

The book had told her the truth—he was fading.

She exhaled shakily, mind racing. She had two choices.

Let him die.

Or let him mark her.

Leon must have seen the hesitation in her eyes because he took another step forward, this time slower. "I won't force you," he murmured. "But if you don't come with me now, it may be too late."

The shadows in the room grew thicker, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her.

Elena had never been good at making decisions under pressure. But something told her this choice was one she couldn't afford to second-guess.

Time was running out.

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