Chapter 6: The Rising Tide of Darkness

The stars were hidden behind a curtain of ominous clouds as the night sky extended across the kingdom, seeming pitch-black. A shudder crept through Castle Ravaryn's ancient walls—not simply the coolness of the weather but something far deeper. There were murmurs of approaching conflict throughout the corridors, and long-lost foes were stirring in the darkness.

Once feared for his tremendous authority, King Alfred was now the subject of unsettling whispers among his adversaries. The dark worlds had heard of his waning power, and now they circled like vultures, feeling the blood in the air. He was weaker than he wanted to acknowledge because of his self-imposed penance of refusing to take blood after losing his soulmate. His aura used to be permeated by unadulterated, undiluted power that was now fading, a flickering light in a world where darkness was its food.

Alaric sat on his chair in the council room, his fingers softly beating across the armrests. Even while his advisers bickered about the mounting threat, his senses were acutely aware of it. But his thoughts were elsewhere. His eyes darted to Celine, who seemed oblivious to the piercing glances directed at her as she stood at the room's edge.

She had been with him for weeks at this point, and she was tormented all the time. Her gaze, her voice, the little curve of her lips—how very similar she looked to Elara—was an unavoidable reminder of his lost love. Every time she got close, his long-suppressed bloodlust would resurface inside him like a coiled beast. He was hungry, but his want for her blood was more complex than that; it was a combination of dread, need, and desire.

Despite his desire to shield her, he was aware that his adversaries were observing. They could see he was becoming more and more fixated on the girl who resembled Elara. Before long, they would attempt to turn her against him.

Lord Draven, the vampire who was closest to him and older than Alaric, leaned in. "My lord, your foes will attack shortly. They can perceive your frailty.

Alaric's jaw became tense. "I'm not weak at all."

Draven's icy grin revealed how skeptical he was. "The girl," he said, glancing at Celine. "They think she's the key to your downfall."

Alaric remained silent as his gaze grew gloomy. How real is Draven's Phrases tore at him.

All of a sudden, a crackling energy flooded the room—a pulse of magic so old and terrible that it sent shivers down everyone's spines. The stone walls were covered in lengthy, spooky shadows created by the flickering and sputtering candles. They felt a tidal wave of gray sweep over them.

The chamber's doors sprang open, letting a bloodied and panting messenger stagger inside. His words were, "My lord!" "There has been a breach of the northern frontiers. Shadow creatures with fiery red eyes have overtaken the settlements. The populace is being massacred.

Alaric narrowed his gaze and stood. Now the dark powers that had lain buried for so long were moving. They were aware of his weakness. They desired his empire, his throne, and they now had a weapon they thought might shatter him, with Celine in their sights.

A cold feeling crept over Celine, who had been calmly observing. The black energy throbbing in the air felt personal, as if it were directed at her, even though she understood very little about these foes or the history of this realm. She took a deep breath and watched as Alaric issued quick orders to get the castle ready for defense. She could sense the anxiety underneath the authoritative tone in his voice.

Alaric walked up to her as the council members scattered to be ready for the impending onslaught. Normally icy and calculating, his eyes were suddenly filled with dread and anxiety. "You have to stick close," he murmured. "They're going to get you." They think my vulnerability is you.

"Am I right?" Celine questioned, shaking in her voice.

Alaric's eyes wavered momentarily. "You are not limited to that."

The air appeared to thicken about them, and a deep, guttural growl reverberated through the chamber before she could inquire what he meant. Alaric's hand moved automatically for his sword, but he knew it wouldn't be sufficient even as he clutched it. The walls' shadows started to writhe and assume shape. Monstrous, faceless beings with crimson eyes that glowed with evil intent sprang out of thin air.

The conflict started.

Alaric sliced through one of the things with a quick stroke, but others came. They were pure blackness, not of flesh and bone, called forth by some old, forbidden force magic. Every one he destroyed was replaced by two more. Once sufficient to defeat legions, his might now faltered in the face of the darkness.

Meanwhile, Celine experienced an odd tug from deep within. Her heart was racing, but it wasn't from terror; rather, it was from something deeper, more basic. She saw Alaric fighting, his movements strong at first, then getting slower. His adversaries were gaining the upper hand.

Celine felt a sharp agony suddenly shoot through her veins. With a gasp, she gripped her chest. She was surrounded by swirling shadows that appeared to be responding to something in her blood. A burst of strength, a strange force that buzzed just beneath her skin, accompanied the panic that swelled in her throat.

Memories raced into her consciousness—bits of unidentified dreams. She heard an old and strong voice speak in her ear, saying, "You are more than you know, child." The secret is in your blood. Accept it.

Celine's eyes grew wide at the knowledge. This was no accident. In this fight, she was more than simply a pawn. Her life force, her blood, had strength that might tilt the odds in this fight. Could she control it, though?

Weary and wounded, Alaric looked at her. "Celine!" he exclaimed. "Leave this place!"

She didn't move, though. Rather, she inhaled deeply and moved forward, her pulse palpitating with her renewed determination. "No," she replied steadily and gently. "I can assist."

Gazing at her, Alaric's eyes widened in shock. "What are you discussing?"

Celine shutting her eyes, she reached deep within. The magic was there, waiting to be released, pulsating through her veins. She released it with a sudden force of determination. With a hiss and twisting sound, the shadows about her withdrew as the strength within her drove them back.

The dark monsters were driven away as a brilliant, gleaming light emanated from Celine, leaving Alaric in wonder. For a split second, she appeared far more powerful than the frail human he had thought her to be, as her eyes radiated with an ethereal brilliance.

The room quieted as the last of the shadow creatures vanished into thin air. Celine stood there with her eyes gradually losing brightness, frightened yet unflinching.

Alaric came up to her; his face was a mix of amazement and dismay. "What are you...?"

With her speech barely audible, Celine caught his eyes. "I'm not sure. However, I believe... there is magic in my blood.

Alaric's eyes darkened again, but not because he was scared or furious. It was accompanied by an epiphany—a link that he had not yet really grasped. She didn't have ordinary blood. Elara's lineage was involved. She was the key to everything, not just a substitute.

One thing became evident as the growing darkness loomed large above them: Celine was no longer simply a pawn in a negotiation. She represented the kingdom's future and Alaric's sole hope.