Riven crouched beside Elara's collapsed form, trembling. Her body was cold, yet her skin pulsed with heat, as if a storm of fire brewed beneath it. Black veins threaded across her neck and arms, glowing faintly in the flickering afterlight of the Lunarch Heart's detonation.
"Elara," he whispered, gently cupping her cheek.
Her eyelids fluttered. Then her body jerked as if struck by lightning. Her lips parted, and a voice not her own rasped out:
"They seek the bound... the oath-breakers... the heart-bearer."
Riven reeled. The words were old—too old. They struck a chord in his blood. He remembered nothing and everything. Flames in darkness. Chains over moons. Elara's voice returned, clearer but frightened.
"They're here. They've found us."
He stood, senses sharpening. Something moved between the trees. Shadows that didn't belong. Whispers from lips that didn't breathe.
And then he saw them.
Clad in gleaming armor inscribed with silver runes, faces hidden beneath mirrored helms—the Ember Paladins of the Pale Synod. Five in total. Each bore a lance of consecrated steel, tips burning with pale fire.
The leader, a towering figure with antlers rising from his helm, stepped forward.
"Hybrid. Vampire. You have awakened the Heart and broken the Accord. You will come with us."
Riven stepped in front of Elara. "She's injured. She needs help."
The antlered knight raised a gauntleted hand. "Mercy is not ours to give. Judgment lies with the Seeress."
They advanced.
Riven's body began to shift, bones cracking. Not wolf. Not man. Something in between, with threads of light snaking through his flesh. A sigil burned across his chest.
"Then come," he growled, "and be judged with me."
Lightning cracked from the sigil, blasting outward. Two Paladins were thrown back into trees. Riven leapt into the fray, claws finding gaps in their armor. Sparks and blood. Steel clashed with fury.
Elara stirred as the battle raged. Her mind plunged inward, pulled by a tether of blood...
Elara's Dream-Descent — The House of Nyxis
She stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking a blood-red sea. Above her, a cathedral floated upside down in the sky, its spires pierced by moons of bone.
Before her stood a woman in crimson robes.
"Elara," the woman said.
She recognized the voice. The face.
"Mother."
Lady Nyxia stepped forward, eyes like still wine.
"You have denied us for too long."
"I am not yours," Elara said.
"You carry our blood. You used our power. The Nyxis bloodline answers when summoned."
Flames erupted behind her. Screams echoed from below the sea.
"We will reclaim you," Lady Nyxia said. "Even if we must burn away what remains of your humanity."
Elara screamed as hands reached from the sea, clawing at her ankles, pulling her down...
Back in the Forest – The Battle Worsens
Riven dodged a burning lance, his left shoulder searing. Blood dripped from his claws, but he moved with instinct that wasn't his. It was ancient. Taught in forgotten battles.
The Ember Paladins regrouped. A sixth figure arrived, cloaked in firelight—the Seeress herself. Pale, blindfolded, with chains wrapped around her waist like a serpent.
"Enough," she intoned.
Riven froze. The chains slithered toward him, not physical, but spiritual. They latched onto the sigil in his chest and began to pull.
Riven screamed.
The forest around them warped. The trees wept black ichor. And then—a howl.
From the shadows emerged a new threat—dozens of werewolves clad in dark leathers, eyes glowing with lunar madness.
The Eclipsed Moon Order.
Their leader, a woman with silver tattoos across her chest, pointed a bloodstained blade at the Seeress.
"You will not touch the bearer. He belongs to the Moonbound. And the prophecy is ours."
In the chaos, Elara's eyes opened—glowing. She rose, levitating slightly, and spoke with two voices:
"I am of the House Nyxis. And no one commands me."
With a gesture, she unleashed a wave of crimson energy that threw back the Paladins and wolves alike.
Riven fell to his knees beside her, gasping. "Elara?"
She looked at him, eyes softening. "Let's go."
Together, they fled into the night as chaos erupted behind them.
The Twilight Between — Aeron Vale's Reckoning
Aeron Vale stood alone in the twilight veil, where light and shadow bled together in eternal dusk. Around him, ten thrones of hollow bone slowly dissolved, their revenant occupants consumed by spiraling vortexes of memory.
"You were the first to turn away," echoed the mirror-faced revenant.
"I was the first to see through the lie," Aeron said. "The bound do not protect—they enslave."
The air pulsed, and all ten revenants rose. Blades formed in their hands—spiritual echoes of their oaths.
"You forsook the Binding," said one. "You led mortals to the Heart."
"I showed them the truth."
"You fractured the Veil."
Aeron stepped forward, shadows clinging to him like a shroud. "I became the Veil."
With a whisper, he summoned the Revenant Oathblade—a sword forged of deathlight and mourning song. Its edge shimmered with the names of every soul he had failed to save.
The revenants attacked.
The battle was not physical. Blades clashed through time, thought, and guilt. Aeron faced each judgment—each regret—and shattered it.
One by one, the revenants fell back into silence, their masks crumbling, revealing faces he had once loved.
Only the mirror-faced revenant remained.
"You have broken the cycle. What now?"
"I return," Aeron said. "The Rift calls. The prophecy moves. And Bloodbane awakens."
The Twilight cracked like ice.
Aeron Vale walked through the breach into the waking world—alone, hunted, and reborn.
Above It All.
Far beyond the Veil, in the prison-temple of the Nine Circles, ancient sigils unraveled.
Chains melted. The stone screamed.
Aamon Thereon Bloodbane, first of the Riftborn, opened his eyes. Crimson. Endless.
In a dark, menacing and diabolical tone.
"The Age of Binding is over."
He smiled.
"And the Black Age begins."