Page 62 of Blood Vows
“You were just a boy who lost everything in one night.”
For the first time since he began his confession, he truly looked at me. And in those midnight-blue eyes, I saw both the man and the monster…and the unbearable weight of both.
But I knew there was more, and we had come too far to stop now. So, I asked softly, compassionately,
“What happened next?” He closed his eyes, as though seeing it unfold again.
“That’s when I heard them. My brothers. They had just returned from their travels. They walked in to find me covered in blood, our father lying dead at my feet, and the darkness crawling across the floor like smoke. They didn’t see him attack her. They didn’t see that I tried to save her life. They only saw what I had become.”
He turned then, his eyes meeting mine, wild, haunted, and painfully beautiful in their torment.
“They tried to kill me,” he said, each word heavy with betrayal.
“They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t listen. They only saw the monster in me and decided to end it.” I swallowed hard, the air tight in my chest.
“And they used the dagger?” I asked, though even as the words left me, a strange certainty rippled through me as if I already knew the answer. A memory stirred, unbidden. The first time I’d touched that cursed blade, I’d felt something…something alive. A pulse. A whisper. As though it had recognized me or tried to show me something I wasn’t meant to see.
“They did,” he murmured, his voice barely more than breath. Yet if he wondered how I knew, he didn’t say, no doubt too far deep into replaying his painful history.
“They thought they succeeded. But the darkness was stronger in me than it ever was in them, as it was I who ended our father’s life. They thought they killed me…” His gaze lifted then, and the shadows around him stirred, alive, restless as if something breathing beneath his skin was trying to break free. The fire roared higher as if reacting to them, painting his face as a portrait of both sinner and savior.
“…But they failed,”he stated darkly, his voice roughened by memory.
“Even after they drove my father’s dagger through my heart.” He stood before me now, his bare chest rising and falling with the memory. The dark veins beneath his skin writhed like smoke under glass, alive and restless. Then his hand pressed to the centre of his chest. Slowly, impossibly, the shadows began to recede, peeling back from his flesh like mist.
The sight rooted me in place.
At the centre of his chest was a scar that spiraled outward like a cruel flower. The flesh was darkened at the edges, faintly touched by the hue of shadow, as though it had burned itself into him to keep him alive. At its centre, a faint glow pulsed, not quite a heartbeat, but the echo of one.
“They took me to the family crypt and left me there, believing it was over. But the darkness they feared… it saved me.It wrapped itself around my heart, sealed the wound, hid the scars they had given me.” He stepped closer, his voice deepening to a near whisper.
“I was never meant to survive, Nessa, but the curse had other plans.”
“And now?” I asked, my chest tight, my voice trembling. His gaze darkened, something ancient flickering behind his eyes.
“Now…now they will finally answer for it.”He vowed, a flicker of white flashing through his irises, one brief but deadly before he blinked it away. I hesitated, then forced the words past the tightness in my throat.
“We didn’t just lose our father that day.” A staggered breath left me on a gasp,
“I am so sorry, Vas, for everything that has happened to you. You were just trying to protect her and I… well, I understand what that’s like.” I offered, gaining a tender look of understanding in return.
“He destroyed her, and ever since…” Suddenly, he stopped, and it was like watching a thread snap behind his eyes. One moment, his voice was heavy with sorrow, his expression honest and human. The next, it shifted, his features tightening, his focus pulling inward. He went still in a way that made the room feel wrong.
At first, it was subtle, the faint twitch of his jaw, the way his head angled toward the door as if catching something carried on a whisper of air. Then his entire body seemed to tense, every muscle drawn taut, coiled beneath his skin. The darkness that lingered along his chest and shoulders pulsed once, faintly, as though reacting to an unseen call.
“Vas?”I whispered, the sound of his name fragile in the thickening air. He didn’t answer. His eyes had gone distant, glassy almost, staring through me rather than at me. It was as if something beyond these walls had reached for him, something only he could sense.
“Vas, what is it?” I asked again, but still, he didn’t respond, not right away. The fire popped sharply in the grate, breaking the silence with a sound that made me jump. And then, finally, he blinked and looked down at me, his face pale, unreadable.
“I have to go,” he said, his voice low, almost strangled, as though it wasn’t truly his own.
“Vas?” I tried again, now getting to my feet and stepping closer.
“You’re scaring me. What’s happening?” His head snapped toward the door. For a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. Fear.Real fear.
“I have to go.” He repeated, making me shake my head in confusion.
“What? Go where?” I demanded, my voice rising.
