Chapter 6 The Trial of Blood

The dreams continued to plague me over the next several days. Each night, I was pulled deeper into Darian's memories—centuries of war and peace, love and betrayal, all filtered through his crimson-tinted perspective. I witnessed the rise and fall of empires, saw him both as conqueror and diplomat. But most disturbing were the more personal fragments: his anguish when forced to harm innocents under Isabelle's commands, his bitter resignation when the sealing ritual began.

I woke from one such dream to find Mira sitting beside my bed, her expression concerned.

"You were crying out in your sleep," she explained, offering a glass of water. "The memory dreams are getting stronger."

I accepted the water gratefully. "Is that normal?"

"For a binding this old and powerful, yes." Mira hesitated. "The prince wishes to see you when you're ready. There have been... developments."

The way she said "developments" sent a chill down my spine. "What kind of developments?"

"It's better if he explains."

I dressed quickly in the clothes Mira had laid out—black pants and a deep red tunic that complemented the markings on my skin rather than hiding them. The palace seemed unusually active as we made our way to Darian's private study, with blood-born hurrying through the corridors in small groups, voices low and urgent.

"Something's happening," I observed.

Mira's lips thinned. "Lord Ashryn has been busy since the Archive incident."

Darian was not alone when we arrived. Elder Thorne stood with him, along with a younger blood-born I hadn't met before, dressed in formal attire reminiscent of a medieval scholar.

"Elira," Darian greeted, his voice tense. "This is Kael, our chief archivist."

Kael bowed slightly. "Lady Elira. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

"What's happened?" I asked, looking between them.

Elder Thorne sighed. "Ashryn has formally petitioned the Ancient Council to nullify your binding contract on grounds of illegitimacy."

"He can't do that," Darian said sharply. "The binding is sacred—once sealed, it can only be broken by death or mutual release."

"He's invoking the Rite of Verification," Kael explained, placing an ancient tome on the desk between us. "A rarely used but legally valid process to challenge a binding's authenticity."

I moved closer to examine the book. The page showed intricate drawings of what appeared to be a ritual combat. "What exactly does this 'verification' entail?"

"A blood duel," Darian said flatly. "The challenger questions the binding's legitimacy, and the bound must fight as champion for the contract holder."

"Fight Ashryn?" I clarified, alarm rising. "That's insane."

"It's ancient law," Elder Thorne corrected gently. "And Ashryn has garnered enough support among the traditionalists to force the issue."

Darian's expression was carefully controlled, but I could sense his rage simmering beneath the surface. "My brother has always been skilled at manipulating court politics."

"What happens if I refuse this challenge?" I asked.

Kael and Elder Thorne exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Refusal would be interpreted as admission of an illegitimate binding," Kael finally said. "The contract would be declared void, and you would be..." He hesitated.

"Removed from the equation," Darian finished grimly. "Blood-born law is unforgiving regarding humans who possess knowledge of our world without legitimate claim."

The implication was clear. "So my choices are to let you fight your brother to the death, or be killed myself?"

"There is a third option," Elder Thorne said quietly. "You could release Darian from the contract voluntarily. With both parties agreeing to dissolution, there would be no need for the blood duel."

I looked at Darian, trying to gauge his reaction to this possibility. His face remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes—resignation, perhaps. He expected me to choose the easy way out.

"And what happens to you if I do that?" I asked him directly.

"I would be free of the binding," he replied carefully. "Free to reclaim my position without the... complication of a human contract holder."

"And me?"

"You would be returned to the surface with no memory of our world," Elder Thorne answered. "A clean separation."

It should have been an easy decision. A way out of this nightmare, back to my normal life. Yet something held me back—the fragments of Darian's memories I'd witnessed, the growing sense that there was more at stake than I understood.

"How long do I have to decide?" I asked.

"The challenge has been set for three nights from now, at the full moon," Kael said. "You have until then."

After they left, Darian remained silent, staring out at the underground lake visible through his study window.

"You should take the third option," he said finally, his back still to me. "Release the contract. Return to your world."

I moved to stand beside him. "Is that what you want?"

"What I want ceased to matter centuries ago." His voice was bitter. "But if you're asking if I want to fight my brother in ritual combat while bound to a human who barely understands our world—no, I do not."

"Then help me understand," I challenged. "Stop giving me fragments and half-truths. If I'm going to make this decision, I need to know everything."

He turned to face me, studying me with those ancient crimson eyes. "Why not simply walk away? Take the freedom being offered."

"Because these dreams, your memories—they're showing me pieces of something important," I replied. "And because Ashryn is pushing too hard to break this contract. I want to know why."

A ghost of a smile touched Darian's lips. "Curiosity is a dangerous trait among vampires, Elira."

"Good thing I'm human, then."

He considered me for a long moment, then nodded decisively. "Very well. But not here. There are too many eyes and ears in the palace."

Darian led me through a series of increasingly narrow passages until we reached what appeared to be a dead end. He pressed his palm against the stone wall, murmuring words in a language I didn't recognize. The wall shimmered and dissolved, revealing a small chamber beyond.

Unlike the grandeur of the rest of the palace, this room was simple—almost ascetic. A few books, a worn chair, and walls covered in what looked like hand-drawn maps and diagrams.

"My private sanctuary," Darian explained. "One of the few places Ashryn cannot access."

"It's... not what I expected," I admitted, taking in the humble surroundings.

"What did you expect? Coffins and Gothic furnishings?" His tone was dry, but the tension had eased from his shoulders now that we were away from the palace proper.

I smiled despite myself. "Maybe some bats and cobwebs, at least."

He gestured for me to sit in the chair while he leaned against the stone wall. "You wanted the truth. Where shall I begin?"

"The beginning," I said simply. "Why was the contract created in the first place?"

Darian's gaze grew distant. "The first blood-born were not like modern vampires. We were... closer to gods than monsters. Created in the aftermath of a divine war, infused with power that humans could barely comprehend."

"We? You speak as if you were there."

"I am older than you can imagine, Elira." His voice was soft but carried the weight of millennia. "I was among the first generation after the original blood-born. I have seen civilizations rise and fall like tides."

The casual mention of his age sent a shiver through me. "And the contract?"

"As with most conflicts, it began with fear," he continued. "Humans feared our power, our immortality. We feared their numbers and their unpredictability. The human-divine hybrids—descendants of gods who had taken human lovers—proposed a solution: a binding that would balance the scales."

"The contract," I murmured.

He nodded. "A blood-born bound to a hybrid would gain protection from the sun and certain divine powers. The hybrid would gain an immortal protector and access to blood magic. It was meant to be symbiotic."

"But something went wrong?"

"Many things went wrong." Darian pushed himself off the wall, pacing the small space. "The hybrids began to die out—their divine blood diluting with each generation. Some blood-born discovered they could bind themselves to powerful pure humans instead, though the connection was never as strong."

"And you? Who were you bound to?"

He stopped pacing, his expression darkening. "Originally? My binding was to the royal line of a civilization your historians have never discovered. For centuries, I served as protector to their kings and queens, passing from one to the next as they aged and died."

"What happened to them?"

"War. Plague. The inevitable march of time." His voice held ancient grief. "Their bloodline thinned, then vanished altogether. I was... adrift. Unbound for the first time in millennia."

"Until Isabelle," I said softly.

"There were others between, brief bindings that never truly took hold." He turned to face me fully. "But yes, Isabelle was the last true contract holder before you."

I processed this information, trying to fit it into the fragments I'd seen in my dreams. "And after her? The sealing you mentioned?"

Something shifted in his expression—a guardedness returning. "That is a more complicated story, tied to why Ashryn is so determined to break our binding."

Before he could continue, a soft chiming sound filled the chamber. Darian tensed, moving to one of the maps on the wall and pressing a sequence of points. The image shimmered, transforming into something like a viewing screen showing Mira's worried face.

"My prince," she said urgently. "Ashryn has moved up the timeline. The Council has approved his request for immediate verification."

"What?" Darian's voice was sharp with disbelief. "They cannot override the three-day consideration period."

"They invoked emergency protocol, claiming the contract's instability threatens the Heart." Mira's expression was grave. "The blood challenge has been set for midnight. Tonight."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "That's only hours away."

"Precisely Ashryn's intention," Darian growled. "He doesn't want to give you time to consider your options or learn more about the binding." He turned back to the screen. "Mira, gather our allies. I'll return with Elira shortly."

After the communication ended, Darian turned to me, his expression grim. "It seems my brother has forced our hand."

"What do we do?" I asked, trying to keep the fear from my voice.

"You still have three options," he said quietly. "Accept the challenge, with me as your champion. Release me from the contract. Or..."

"Or?" I prompted when he hesitated.

"Or we could attempt to strengthen the binding." His eyes held mine steadily. "Make it undeniable, even to the skeptics."

"How?"

"Blood sharing," he said simply. "More than the few drops that activated the circle. A true exchange that would deepen the connection between us."

The implication hung in the air between us. "You mean you would drink my blood."

"And you would take some of mine." He moved closer, his voice low and intense. "It would make the contract markings more pronounced, the connection between us unmistakable. Even Ashryn couldn't question it then."

"Would that stop the challenge?"

"No. But it would ensure that when I fight, the contract's power flows fully between us." He reached out, his cool fingers brushing the markings on my arm. "These are but shadows of what the binding could be."

His touch sent a shiver through me that wasn't entirely fear. The markings warmed beneath his fingers, responding to his proximity.

"Why offer this now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "You've made it clear you resent this binding."

Darian's eyes met mine, centuries of carefully guarded emotion visible for just a moment. "Because Ashryn is more dangerous than you realize. And because—" He stopped, seeming to reconsider his words. "Because I've seen enough of your character to know you don't deserve his brand of cruelty."

It wasn't quite trust, wasn't quite alliance—but it was something more than the cold resentment he'd shown when we first met. I took a deep breath, weighing my options.

"If I accept the challenge, with or without this blood sharing, what are your chances against Ashryn?"

"In fair combat?" A grim smile touched his lips. "Even after my long sleep, I am still the elder brother. But Ashryn has never fought fairly."

The decision crystallized in my mind with surprising clarity. "Then we strengthen the binding. And you fight for both of us."

Relief and something more complex flashed across his face. "You understand there's no turning back from this? The binding will be deeper, the connection between us more... intimate."

The word hung between us, charged with meanings neither of us was ready to address.

"I understand," I said steadily. "But I'm not letting Ashryn win through manipulation and rushed timelines. If there's going to be a fight, we face it together."

Darian nodded once, a gesture of respect I hadn't seen from him before. "Together, then."

As midnight approached and we prepared for the blood ritual that would strengthen our bond, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were stepping toward something far beyond a simple contract—something ancient and transformative that would change us both in ways neither of us could predict.