Ashes of the Covenant

The sky bled.

A roiling crimson eclipse now hung above the Rift of Chains, casting the world in an otherworldly red that shimmered over broken stone and twitching corpses. The sun, swallowed whole, wept blood into the clouds. And beneath it—caught between destiny and damnation—stood Varek Nyxen and Selene Valeborne.

Around them, chaos reigned.

Dozens of vampires lay dead, their flesh burning in the eclipse's gaze. The remaining ones—Alaric's elite Nightborn—snarled as the sound of howling pierced the Rift.

They came in a rush of teeth and fury.

Wolves. Hundreds.

Silver fur, black fur, russet and grey—an army of werewolves charged down the jagged cliffs like a living avalanche, their eyes wild with rage and purpose. Not feral. Not rogue.

United.

At their front, armored and massive, stood High Alpha Kael Thorne—Selene's long-exiled father.

Selene's heart skipped.

He hadn't joined a war in thirty years. Not since the treaty was shattered. But now he was here—because she called.

"Daughter!" he roared in a voice that shook the rocks beneath their feet. "We fight as one!"

She didn't have time for reunion.

Varek was rising again, staggering from the boulder where Alaric had thrown him. Blood soaked his leathers, but his sword was still in hand—and his eyes burned with defiance.

"I'll end him," he growled.

"Not alone," Selene said, moving to his side.

The Nightborn vampires surged, screeching as the wolves slammed into them. Fur and fang met claw and blade in a furious clash. The Rift trembled with the force of it. Bones shattered. Flesh tore. Magic screamed through the air.

Alaric stood untouched, crimson energy radiating from his hands.

He was opening the Rift.

And the Codex Redemptus, bound in bone and locked by fate, began to stir behind him.

Varek knew: if Alaric finished the spell, the Old Blood would return—the gods locked beneath the world for eons. Entities that even vampires feared.

He ran.

Through the carnage, cutting through two Nightborn with wide, precise swings. Their blood steamed on his blade.

Selene stayed beside him, moving with equal grace and fury, her glaive flashing as she tore through a towering brute with plated armor and snake-like fangs. He exploded in mist and fire.

"Get to Alaric!" she shouted

At the center of the Rift, the stone platform cracked as Alaric's spell neared completion.

The blood eclipse above had become a full eye, open and watching. Ancient chains that wound deep into the core of the earth began to groan and snap.

Alaric chanted in the tongue of the Firstborn.

"We were gods once. Bound in flesh. No longer."

His voice echoed across time.

As Varek closed in, Alaric turned slowly, his armor molten crimson, his gaze like twin suns.

"You're too late, child," he said. "The Cradle opens. And the world is reborn."

Varek leapt into the air, sword raised. He brought it down with every ounce of power in his blood.

Alaric caught the blade mid-air—with one hand.

Varek's eyes widened.

"You can't stop fate," Alaric hissed.

But he hadn't counted on Selene.

She came from behind, a blur of silver and fury, slashing with her glaive. The blade bit into Alaric's back, deep enough to tear through his enchanted armor.

Alaric roared, stumbling.

Varek ripped his blade free and struck again—this time, he cut off Alaric's hand.

The severed limb fell, still twitching, still clutching the spellbound Codex.

The spell faltered. The Rift groaned.

But it didn't close.

Instead, the chains at the center snapped, and a massive column of blood-red light shot into the sky.

Far away, across the realm, everyone felt it.

In the vampire citadel, nobles screamed as the air went still.

In the deepest wolf dens, pups howled, their eyes glowing with ancient instincts.

The world was waking up.

The Cradle was stirring.

Back at the Rift, the ground split wide, revealing a massive pit lined with bone and molten crystal. Inside, something moved—massive, scaled, dripping with black ichor.

A god.

Or what was left of one.

Alaric, kneeling, bleeding, laughed.

"It's too late," he whispered. "They rise."

Varek stood over him, breathing heavily. "Not while I draw breath."

Alaric's smile faltered as Selene stepped up behind Varek, her glaive slick with blood.

Together, they raised their weapons.

But before they could strike the final blow, the god beneath the Rift surged upward, tendrils of corrupted flesh lashing out like whips. One slammed into the earth, sending everyone flying.

Varek hit the ground hard, vision swimming.

Selene rolled beside him, groaning.

Alaric stumbled to his feet, laughing.

"You think I needed to live? I only needed to open the door!"

And with that, he vanished into the shadows—gone.

The pit began to glow brighter. A voice, deep and monstrous, rumbled from within.

"Children of war… you dare bind me again?"

The god's body was barely formed—a mass of flesh, bone, and teeth—but its power was overwhelming. Already, it was reaching out, touching minds across the world.

Kael, fighting a vampire warlord nearby, froze as blood began pouring from his ears. "What… what is this madness?"

Selene grabbed Varek's hand. "The ritual. Now!"

Varek nodded, drawing the obsidian dagger Sevrien had given them.

They raced to the altar—a spire of black stone that pulsed in time with the god's heartbeat.

There, they stood together.

Varek turned to her.

"I love you."

Selene smiled faintly. "Then bleed with me."

They slit their palms and pressed them to the stone.

The altar lit with fire, ancient symbols flaring to life. The blood eclipse overhead began to flicker. The Rift howled as if alive.

The god screamed.

"NO!"

Chains, spectral and massive, erupted from the sky and began to wrap around the god's form.

But it fought back.

Tendrils of darkness surged at Varek and Selene.

Kael and his wolves leapt in the way, shielding them. Dozens died instantly—burned, impaled, shredded.

Kael turned to Selene, blood dripping from his mouth.

"I'm proud of you… my little moon…"

Then he collapsed, unmoving.

Selene cried out—but didn't stop.

Varek gritted his teeth, his blood pouring faster.

The altar was glowing brighter than ever.

One final phrase remained.

Varek looked to her. "Together."

And they spoke the final word.

"Arak'thel."

The god screamed.

The Rift exploded in light.

When the world settled, the sky was clear.

The blood eclipse was gone.

And so was the god.

The Rift was sealed.

Once more.

Varek awoke hours later in Selene's arms, bruised and broken, but alive.

All around them, the battlefield was silent. The wolves and vampires that remained stood scattered—stunned.

Selene was crying quietly, cradling his face.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered.

"You almost did," he said hoarsely. "But I couldn't leave you. Not now."

She smiled through her tears.

Then kissed him.

Fiercely. Like it was the last time.

It wasn't, though.

Far away, in the ruins of the Blackspire, Alaric sat before a mirror of blood.

The god was sealed—but only for now.

And the hybrid lovers had survived.

He stared at their image, seething.

"Let them rest," he whispered. "Let them heal."

He rose, his new hand—clawed and inhuman—flexing with dark power.

"Because when they rise again…"

He turned to the shadows behind him, where a dozen cloaked figures knelt.

"…I will end them."