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

A low fire crackled in a cave untouched by time. Walls of black ice reflected nothing—not even the ancient ones gathered there. Seven figures in dark robes sat in a perfect circle, each bearing a single mark on their throat: the broken chain sigil.

Not soldiers. Not kings. Not prophets.

They were the first—once Gate-born, now unbound.

"Faethrin burns," murmured the tallest. "The Key lives."

A female figure, her voice like poisoned silk, replied, "He does more than live. He awakens. The soulfire responded. The Hollow-Eyed fell. The old prophecy… stirs."

Another, older still, with glowing threads braided into his robes, growled, "If the Key fulfills his purpose before we reach him, all is lost. He must not ascend without us."

"Then we bring him to us," said the final voice, calm and cruel. "Or we bring the world to him."

He stood in a forest of ash, where white leaves drifted from dead trees. Voices whispered in the wind, thousands of them—former bearers of the soulfire. Hollowborns lost to time.

"You are not ready," one voice said.

"Your pain is too human," whispered another.

Ashren opened his eyes, waking with a scream, drenched in sweat. He sat up fast, heart thundering.

"You saw them again," she said softly.

Because this time, he didn't just see them.

She believed in power. In survival.

But watching Ashren now—every day glowing brighter, every night slipping further from what he once was—she felt the terrifying weight of something else.

His soul wasn't just bending under the burden of the Gate.

Seris reached for him. "You're still you."

"No," Ashren whispered. "I'm something else now."

Ashren's voice cracked. "That when the time comes, I won't stop the Gate. I'll open it."

King Malric received word of the massacre at the monastery.

His fury was a quiet thing—measured, surgical.

"Then the time has come," he told his spies. "Release the Forgebound. Activate the Throne Protocol. If the Key will not surrender, we bring the war to him."

The Fractured Crown