Perfect, ---
Elaris
The night came without stars.
Only the pulse of the vow glowed between my ribs — a rhythm that was not entirely my own.
I had fallen asleep clutching the serpent scroll, its ink whispering in my dreams. But when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the world I knew.
The library had dissolved.
The fire had gone cold.
I stood in a field of pale lilies that shimmered under no sun. Above, the sky was a vast mirror — reflecting me, reflecting him.
"Lucien?" I whispered.
He was already there.
Barefoot, coat torn, eyes half-shadow and half-light — the living twilight.
He turned toward me, confusion softening into recognition. "You feel it too."
"The vow?"
He nodded. "It called us here."
The lilies swayed though there was no wind. Between us, the air hummed — threads of gold and black weaving and unweaving, like veins of living silk.
Then the world split open.
The field melted into light.
And through that light, two figures emerged — ancient, radiant, intertwined.
A man of starlight, his wings unfurled like galaxies.
A woman of shadowfire, her hair flowing like liquid dusk.
They stood hand in hand upon a world half-made — between Heaven and the Abyss.
Lucien and I both fell silent. The air tasted of creation.
> "Do you know what this is?" he murmured.
"I think…" My voice trembled. "This is the first vow."
The scene rippled, drawing us closer until we could feel the pulse of the lovers' joined hands. Blood trickled between their palms — bright gold from him, black from her — and where it met, the blood turned crimson.
The color of defiance.
> "In love, we bind the unbindable," the woman whispered in a tongue older than stars.
"In blood, we remember the forbidden."
The man leaned close, his voice a low prayer.
> "Let Heaven rage and Hell despair. For in our vow, light shall kiss shadow… and be unmade."
Their hands pressed together. The blood flared like flame.
And from that union, the serpent rose — shimmering, twin-eyed, divine and profane. It coiled around their joined hands, then lifted its gaze to the sky, where the first divine sigil cracked apart.
Heaven wept fire that day.
The serpent spoke in a thousand voices at once:
> "So it shall be. Those who love beyond Heaven's law shall inherit the power to unwrite fate."
Lucien stepped closer to the vision, his breath shallow. "That's the origin. The first defiance."
I touched my palm to his. "And we're the echo."
The serpent's gaze turned toward us, and for a heartbeat, I swore it recognized me. Its tongue flickered, tasting the air between Lucien and me, then whispered:
> "The vow remembers its children."
The vision shattered.
---
Lucien
I woke with the sound of her breath against mine.
The tent's fabric swayed, the fire outside burning low, but I could still see the vision burned into my mind — those two beings, their blood, their vow.
Elaris gasped softly, sitting up beside me. Her eyes gleamed faintly crimson and gold in the dim light.
"You saw it too," I said.
She nodded. "They were the first. The original pair — the celestial and the shadowborn."
I swallowed hard. "And their serpent… it wasn't a curse. It was a covenant."
Her gaze drifted toward the scroll beside her. "Which means the Blood Vow isn't just power. It's… inheritance."
Silence fell. Outside, the night wind howled through the cliffs like something alive.
"Lucien," she whispered, "if what we saw was true… then Heaven didn't destroy them."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Their bodies burned," she said slowly, "but their vow didn't die. It passed through their blood — through the lineages that followed. Through you. Through me."
His heart stuttered. "You think we're their descendants?"
"No." Her eyes met his — fierce, trembling, luminous. "I think we're their continuation."
The mark on her collarbone flared softly, and his pulse answered.
The bond between them hummed like a heartbeat of the universe — constant, defiant, alive.
Lucien reached for her hand. The moment their fingers brushed, gold and black light bled between their palms — and for a brief, breathless instant, he saw everything.
The world as it once was.
The gods watching in terror.
The first serpent laughing as stars fell into the sea.
And above it all, one truth repeating like scripture:
> "The vow does not end. It begins again."
Lucien tore his hand away, breath ragged.
Elaris stared at him, eyes wide. "You saw it too."
He nodded slowly. "We're not just bound to each other, Elaris. We're bound to their sin."
The serpent mark glowed faintly along both their necks.
Outside, thunder rolled — not from a storm, but from the Heavens themselves.