CHAPTER ELEVEN: “The Marking Flame”
The heart of Noctis Hollow throbbed with a strange energy. Vampires from every bloodline gathered beneath the Cathedral of Shadows — a vast stone hall carved from obsidian, lit by blood-red fire, and guarded by warriors older than most cities.
At the center stood a black altar, shaped like a fang, waiting.
Tonight, Jayden would be marked.
He would be sealed to the Court, and the Hollow would claim him.
Or so they thought.
---
The Ceremony Begins
Veyna tightened the collar of Jayden's ceremonial cloak. Her eyes, for once, looked unsure.
"You can still refuse," she said quietly.
Jayden shook his head. "I need answers. I need them to trust me before I decide anything."
"Then keep your mind sharp," she said. "This rite is more than a formality. The Mark sees what you are."
The crowd hushed. Lord Kaelric stepped forward, cloaked in flowing black lined with runes of ancient blood.
"Let the Shadow-Blood step forward," he said.
Jayden walked into the circle of fire, heart thudding.
---
A Flame of Judgment
From a stone basin beside the altar, Mother Nyxa reached into a crimson flame — the Aetherfire, a rare spiritual fire said to burn both truth and falsehood.
She dipped a ceremonial blade into it.
The metal hissed, glowing white-hot.
"Do you submit," she said, "to the will of the Blood Court?"
Jayden hesitated — just for a breath — then nodded. "I submit… for now."
The crowd stirred at his bold words.
Kaelric narrowed his eyes, but motioned for the blade to proceed.
Nyxa moved to Jayden's chest and pressed the flat of the burning blade above his heart.
A searing pain cut through him — but it was not physical.
> It was memory. It was soul.
Visions surged:
His mother's voice singing in the kitchen.
The warmth of his sister's hand.
Blood-soaked dreams of moonlight and war.
A throne of bone, cracked and empty.
The blade etched a glowing mark over his heart — a sigil not seen in centuries.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Kaelric stepped forward sharply. "That's not the mark of the Hollow…"
Nyxa staggered back.
> "It's older," she whispered. "Much older."
---
The Sigil of the Firstborn
The mark pulsed on Jayden's chest — not the chained circle of the Hollow, but a spiral of claw and flame.
An ancient symbol. A forbidden one.
Lady Morrienna whispered, "It's the Crest of the Firstborn — the mark of the original line… before the courts… before the treaties."
"But that bloodline was wiped out," another gasped. "Extinct since the Night Wars!"
Veyna stared at Jayden in awe. "You're not just a prophecy… you're a descendant of the First."
Kaelric's voice rang like iron. "This ceremony is over. He is not one of us."
---
The Fracture
Jayden turned slowly. The mark on his chest glowed brighter with every heartbeat.
"No," he said. "I'm more than one of you."
"I'm what you feared."
Suddenly, the Aetherfire flared into the air — and from the flames, a shadow stepped forth.
Tall. Horned. Burning with hunger.
The Hunter.
Screams rang through the chamber.
Jayden reached instinctively for his dagger, but the Hunter wasn't looking at him.
It stared at the Council — ancient enemies — and snarled.
"Return… what was stolen."
Then it vanished in a swirl of smoke.
---
The Aftermath
Panic spread.
Kaelric barked orders. Warriors ran to their posts.
Jayden stood frozen in the flame-lit silence, the mark still glowing on his chest.
Nyxa turned to him slowly.
"You've awakened something we sealed long ago," she said.
Veyna grabbed his arm. "We need to get you out. Now."
Jayden looked around — at the fear, at the broken faces of the Court — and realized something.
> They weren't in control anymore.
> He was.