And yet, she survived.
Every morning—or what felt like morning—Veyra took a deep breath, rose from her root-bed, and spoke to her vines like they were allies.
She tested her skill each day. Learned how to thicken her thorns. Learned how to grow tendrils that could slither through soil, that could carry sensory pulses to her like whispers on nerves. She even managed to regrow part of a severed vine using her own blood and a moment of meditation.
One morning, she discovered something new: she could leave behind a seed—a tiny pod, no bigger than a tooth—infused with her blood essence. When planted, it would sprout a smaller, faster-growing version of her Crimson Bloom network. It wouldn't be strong, but it would warn her of pursuit or provide her with a tiny outpost.
She called them bloodblooms. And by the end of the first week, she had planted six of them in a spiral pattern around her base.
She didn't know if Asher or Valeris were watching. But she knew she is here to survive and prove she is not an burden to anyone.
Deep inside Shardrift Valley, Asher stepped through a broken archway of vine-strangled stone and entered a place few in the world above even knew existed.
A city. A vast, ancient city.
It sprawled beneath the valley's mist-choked cliffs, carved into the very bones of the land—its architecture a fusion of gothic and natural, like thorns sculpted from obsidian. Towering spires twisted upward like the talons of some buried god, and winding paths glowed faintly with veins of soulcrystal that pulsed in rhythm with the ambient essence of the earth. Luminescent moss hung like banners from broken rooftops, and statues of long-forgotten monarchs stood watch over courtyards draped in eternal twilight.
"So… there really are vampires on this planet," Asher muttered to himself, eyes scanning the ethereal skyline.
He had expected ruins. Silence. Perhaps ghosts.
But instead, he found life.
The city was not empty.
Shadowy figures moved through the mists with grace and quiet purpose—pale-skinned men and women dressed in silks of silver and black, their presence regal, their expressions unreadable. Not a single one spoke aloud. They walked as though the world belonged to them, and nothing in it could dispute that claim.
They're not just surviving, Asher thought. They're thriving. Peaceful. Hidden.
Shardrift Valley, it turned out, wasn't just a forbidden zone for monsters and trials. It was also a sanctuary.
He stood at the edge of a great courtyard, its floor inscribed with blood-gold sigils older than dynasties. The city pulsed with an ancient quiet, as if it breathed in tandem with the earth.
Asher closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. Dozens… no, hundreds of presences flickered through the stone and air, all of them restrained, but undeniably powerful. Vampire auras—subtle, refined, controlled. Not beasts, not wild. Civilized.
But then… he felt another one.
Of course he noticed. He'd felt her approach from the moment she emerged from the side path. But Asher didn't turn. He kept his posture relaxed, his gaze still fixed on the city before him. He wanted her to think she'd surprised him. Let her feel safe. In control.
She came to a stop two paces behind him.
"You're not from here," a voice said, smooth and low—a velvet whisper wrapped in moonlight. "And you're not human, not entirely."
He turned slowly, letting his eyes meet hers.
She was tall, her form lithe and regal, with hair like liquid midnight cascading over her shoulders. Her skin was alabaster pale, unblemished, glowing faintly with an inner essence. Her eyes… crimson irises rimmed with gold. The mark of an old bloodline. She wore armor laced with living roots and soulmetal, elegant and sharp. A highborn, no doubt.
"I'm not," Asher replied simply.
This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
The woman tilted her head, studying him with open curiosity. "Then what are you?"
Asher's smile deepened, calm and quiet—like the sea just before a storm.
And then, above his head, it appeared.
A halo of ancient red flame burst into being, swirling in regal arcs shaped like jagged thorns and flowing blood. It floated above him—not conjured, not summoned, but manifested—a birthright of power given form. The air around him warped with a pressure older than memory.
The woman recoiled half a step, her breath catching in her throat.
She felt it instantly.
A surge of Bloodline Binding—not like that of common vampires or even the noble castes. This was something else. Something deeper. Her very blood responded instinctively, like a forgotten key clicking into an ancient lock.
It wasn't fear that rippled across her face. It was awe.
As if she were suddenly standing in the presence of an Ancestor—one of the ancient progenitors that birthed the vampire race from myth and moonfire. Her knees weakened. Not from weakness, but reverence.
And then her eyes widened even further.
Because now she could see it—woven beneath Asher's living soul and brutal might: the traces of legacy. Fragments of a vampiric lineage so pure and potent, it resonated with her own blood like a call across eternity.
To her, a high noble of the Obsidian Court—scion of the Crimson Choir and heiress to the Duskroot Throne—this man standing before her bore a claim more sacred than name or title.
He has the blood of the Progenitor.
Asher, meanwhile, looked at the kneeling woman and gave a faint nod.
'Well… the legacy of the very first vampire finally came in handy,' he mused inwardly.
Just as the woman had sensed, she was not wrong.
Asher bore the legacy of the Progenitor—the Primordial Vampire, the first of his kind to ever walk the Realms of Existence. A being born not of death or dark rituals, but of the raw abyss between creation and oblivion. A creature who had once reigned supreme when time itself was still forming threads.
Trillions upon trillions of years had passed since the Progenitor's birth. And after countless cycles of dominion, war, and silence, the ancient being had grown weary.
And so, before fading from reality, the Primordial Vampire sealed his true essence—his Absolutes, his primordial powers—into seven legendary fragments, scattered across the infinite cosmos.