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

The world did not scream when it died.

The Hollowborn stepped through the gates of Tharell, a once-mighty fortress-city perched on the cliffs of the eastern sea. Its guards raised steel, summoned magic, and prayed to gods long silent.

With a single breath, the Hollowborn unmade the sky. The sun above Tharell turned black, and every flame snuffed itself out in terror. Buildings cracked under the weight of its aura. People wept blood before they even saw its face.

He felt it like a blade through his spine.

Standing atop the ruins of the Hollow Throne, Ashren dropped to one knee, blood leaking from his nose and ears.

"It's here," he whispered. "Something worse than the Queen."

Liora reached him seconds later. "What just happened?"

He looked up at her, eyes shadowed and glowing faintly violet.

"It walks in her shadow, but it's not her reborn. It's the source."

The fire hadn't gone out in her yet.

But fear curled around her gut like a serpent.

When Ashren told her what he felt, she didn't argue.

She gathered the last remaining Blood Seers and sent word to every cursed settlement, rogue faction, and forgotten temple:

But this time, it was wearing a face no one recognized—and it was walking west.

It left a mark wherever it passed: land curdled, skies twisted, bones blooming like flowers from the ground.

Its voice returned slowly—first as whispers, then as full words, stitched from the cries of the dead.

"Ashren," it said, as it crossed into the Veilmar Wastes.

He gathered the scattered remnants of his rebellion, now a warband tempered in fire.

They would not survive what was coming.

But maybe they could buy the world time.

"We don't kill it," Ashren said before them. "We bind it."

"And what happens to you?" Liora asked.

Ashren smiled, the way broken men do.

"I carry it. Just like I carried the last one."

When the Hollow Walks