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 floor buckled beneath him as the voice echoed through the ruins. It wasn't sound—it was pressure, ancient and sentient, slithering into his veins like fire and frost.

Ashren lunged forward, grabbing Seris's wrist as the stone beneath them fractured.

They crashed through a falling pillar as the Archive collapsed inward, a sinkhole yawning open to the void beneath. Magic spiraled upward—threads of red and silver, pain and time—ripping books and bones into the sky.

Ashren dragged her behind him as he ran through smoke and ruin.

"I told you!" Seris screamed. "You're the damn Key—it wants you!"

"Yeah?" Ashren panted, dodging another blast of shattering force. "It can wait its damn turn!"

She'd thought he'd be colder. Vicious. Corrupted by the Hollow's death. Instead, he was raw fury wrapped in grief—and something worse: hope.

But her chains didn't burn when he touched her.

They burst into what remained of Faethrin's upper district. The once-beautiful plaza was fractured, the fountain dry, the cobblestones split by veins of glowing crimson. Beneath them, the earth rumbled.

"No," she whispered, raising her staff. "This is where we make our stand."

Something had crawled through the fracture. Not the Gate itself. Not yet.

It was tall. Skinless. Covered in runes that bled light. Its face had no mouth—only eyes. Hundreds of them. And they stared straight at Ashren.

And it had come to collect its Key.

"I don't have my blade," Ashren muttered.

Seris stepped beside him, slamming her staff into the earth. "Then you fight with your curse."

He looked at her, stunned. "You want me to use it?"

"Right now," she said, eyes glowing silver, "I want you to survive."

Light erupted from his chest—red and black and alive. The soulfire of the Hollowborn surged into his veins, forming a weapon not of steel but of will.

Ash and Binding