Ashes of the Covenant

The wind howled across the frozen plains, biting into the skin with cruel intent.

Varek and Selene rode side by side, their mounts moving swiftly over the snow-covered ground, the cold stinging their faces like a thousand tiny daggers. The Rift of Chains wasn't a place for the faint of heart. It was a scar in the earth, a wound that ran deep into the soul of the world itself. It had been sealed long ago by those who feared what it might unleash.

But Alaric had found it. The blood eclipse would open the Rift once more—and if they didn't reach it first, the world might be torn apart in the wake of Alaric's ambition.

Every day on the road had brought them closer to it—and with every step, Varek could feel the weight of the prophecy tightening around them. Their bond—blood, soul, fate—was growing stronger, more undeniable. There were moments when he could feel her heartbeat like his own, their breaths in perfect sync.

Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness in the pit of his stomach—a fear he couldn't shake. What if the ritual failed?

They rode through the biting winds for hours, the snow swirling in their wake. The air smelled like metal and ash, a sign that the Rift wasn't far now.

Selene pulled her hood tighter, her silver eyes glinting with determination. She wasn't the same woman who'd walked into the Watchers' sanctum just a week ago. The ritual they had undergone there had changed something in her—something deep, primal. She was more than the fierce warrior. She was a queen in her own right. And she wasn't afraid of what awaited them at the Rift. She wasn't afraid of Alaric.

But she wasn't sure about herself.

She glanced at Varek, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed him. He hadn't spoken much since their lovemaking in the Watchers' temple, but she could sense the storm brewing within him. His eyes were still haunted by the visions, the weight of the prophecy pressing against him, drowning him.

"How far?" she asked, her voice cutting through the howling wind.

"Not far," he said, his voice distant. "We'll reach it by nightfall."

She didn't press him further, but she knew what it was. The fear.

The fear of failing.

She had it too. But she had learned to hide it better.

By nightfall, they had reached the Rift.

The land here was barren, marked by jagged rocks and twisted trees that had long since died but refused to fall. The sky above was a strange, sickly red, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. The air itself felt thick, charged with something that made every hair on their bodies stand on end.

Varek dismounted, his boots crunching on the frozen ground. He looked up at the jagged cliffs that marked the Rift's entrance—two towering spires of rock, ancient and weathered, split down the middle, the blackened stone leaking a faint crimson glow.

"This is it," he muttered, his gaze locked on the darkened abyss between the cliffs.

Selene stood beside him, her hand resting on the hilt of her glaive. She could feel the power emanating from the Rift, a force unlike anything she had ever sensed. It felt like a living thing—hungry, watching them, waiting.

"We don't have much time," she said, her voice low.

"I know."

They stepped forward, together, toward the heart of the Rift. The ground seemed to shift beneath their feet, as if the very earth was alive, responding to their presence

The air grew colder as they descended into the Rift. The path was narrow, flanked by towering, jagged rocks on either side. The deeper they went, the darker it became. The only light was the faint, red glow that seeped from the cracks in the earth itself.

Selene's steps were sure, her glaive resting lightly in her grip. But she could sense the growing unease in Varek. He was tense, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He was waiting for something—someone. And she knew what it was.

"They're coming," he said, his voice rough.

Selene's grip tightened around her glaive. "Who?"

Varek's eyes flicked to the shadows ahead. "Alaric's hunters."

Before Selene could respond, the ground beneath their feet trembled, and a roar split the air—a sound like the screech of a dying beast.

Then they appeared.

Vampires.

But not like any vampires Varek had ever seen. These were something else. Their eyes glowed red, their skin was stretched tight over their bones, and their fangs were longer, sharper. They were more than mere soldiers—they were hunters, beasts made to track and kill. And they were closing in fast.

"Move!" Varek shouted, drawing his sword.

Selene didn't hesitate. She swung her glaive in a wide arc, slicing through the air with deadly precision. A vampire lunged at her, but she sidestepped, slamming the butt of her glaive into his chest, sending him crashing into a rock. He scrambled to his feet, only to find Varek's sword at his throat.

"Not tonight," Varek growled, his eyes flashing crimson.

The vampire snarled, but before he could strike, Varek drove his blade through his heart, dropping him to the ground with a sickening thud.

Selene wasn't far behind, her glaive cutting through the air with ruthless efficiency. She sliced through one vampire after another, her movements a blur of silver and red. But for every vampire they killed, another two took its place. They were outnumbered.

Varek's senses flared. He could feel something shifting in the darkness—a presence, something more powerful than any of the hunters.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them cracked open.

From the depths of the Rift emerged Alaric Mordane.

Alaric stood tall, his crimson armor gleaming in the blood-red light, his expression cold and cruel. His eyes locked onto Varek and Selene, his lips curling into a smirk.

"I see you've made it this far," Alaric said, his voice low and mocking. "But this is where it ends."

Selene's heart beat faster. The air around them grew heavier, thick with dark magic. Alaric was more than just a vampire—he was a force of nature, a predator that could never be fully contained.

"You'll never have it," Varek growled, stepping forward, his sword gleaming in the fading light. "The Cradle won't open for you."

Alaric chuckled darkly. "Oh, but it already has." He lifted his hand, and the air around them crackled. A wave of power surged through the Rift, pulling the very ground beneath them apart.

Selene's glaive swung forward, but Alaric's hand caught it mid-strike, squeezing it until the blade began to bend.

"Foolish girl," he sneered. "You think you can stop me?"

Varek rushed forward, his blade flashing in the light, but Alaric was faster. He raised his other hand, and Varek was thrown back, crashing into the jagged rocks with a sickening crunch.

Selene's eyes widened, her heart racing. She tried to move, but her body was frozen in place by the overwhelming power radiating from Alaric.

"Give up," Alaric said softly. "You can't stop this. You never could."

But just as Selene felt the darkness closing in, something inside her snapped.

Her grip tightened on her glaive. The power coursing through her veins, the blood bond between her and Varek—it gave her strength.

With a primal cry, she tore herself free from Alaric's grip, her glaive flashing like a bolt of lightning. She slashed through the air, catching Alaric off guard, forcing him to step back.

For a moment, they stood in silence.

Then, in the distance, they heard a sound—a low, deep growl.

The wolves had arrived.