Ohwofasa_Emonena

They spilled his blood to protect their crown. Now he’ll drown their kingdom in it.

Once a devoted knight of the Silver Court, Kael Morvain was betrayed by the royals he served—offered as a living sacrifice to seal a cursed blood pact. But death was only the beginning. Reborn as a vampire in the ruins of forgotten gods, Kael awakens with no soul, no mercy, and one burning purpose: vengeance.

The kingdom of Solrath flourishes on lies, its golden heir worshiped like a savior. But Kael knows the truth: the blood on their throne belongs to him.

When he kidnaps the last surviving princess, a fierce woman marked by prophecy and hiding her own monstrous bloodline, Kael’s revenge spirals into a war between old gods, cursed blood, and forbidden desire.

In a land where power is written in veins and vengeance never dies, only one truth remains:

The dead don’t forgive.
They return.

veins of vengeance

He stared at the Queen's message again, though he'd memorized every cruel word.

> Come alone. Or watch the world pay the debt of your defiance.

She knew exactly how to bait him. She always had.

But this wasn't about her anymore.

Ashren stood before the war council, eyes blazing beneath a heavy hood. The rebel leaders were shouting—some outraged, some afraid.

"You walk into the Hollow Throne alone and you're handing her exactly what she wants!" barked General Iven.

"And if I don't," Ashren said coldly, "she'll burn what's left of the free lands. She doesn't want a fight. She wants me."

Selene, pale and still recovering, leaned against a pillar nearby. Her eyes never left her son.

"She'll twist your blood again," someone whispered.

"She already did," he said. "Now I twist it back."

She found him alone that night, standing in the silent courtyard where Kael used to train him.

Ashren's sword lay across the stone, untouched. Instead, he held the vial of god-blood Liora had stolen from the Queen's relic vault.

"You don't have to go alone," Selene said.

He didn't look at her. "If I bring anyone, she'll slaughter them to prove a point."

He turned, eyes softening for the first time in days.

"You're my mother. And I already lost you once."

She stepped forward, placed a hand on his chest.

"Then fight like hell to make sure it wasn't for nothing."

"I will. But this… this part I do alone."

She stood barefoot on the Hollow Throne's steps, letting blood drip from her hands into the sacred basin.

Each drop awakened a voice—screams of gods, kings, and forgotten beasts.

"Prepare the chamber," she said to the war priest.

"He's already halfway here," the Queen murmured. "He burns for answers. And vengeance."

She lifted a sliver of obsidian—the first blade ever used to kill a god.

"And when he arrives," she whispered, "he'll become mine… or ash."

At sunrise, Ashren rode alone through the gates.

Only the wind and the storm building behind his eyes.

He had no illusions of walking out of this alive.

But if he fell—he'd make sure the Queen fell with him.

Thorns of the Past