Asher grasped Catherine's wrist, his grip firm yet hesitant, as her ruby-red eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Go ahead," she murmured, her voice both encouraging and commanding.
He closed his eyes, focusing inward as he reached out with his blood-related ability. The moment their connection began, he felt a surge unlike anything he had ever experienced. Her blood was dense, ancient, and unfathomably powerful. Merely sensing its presence was like trying to move a mountain—massive, immovable, and overwhelming.
Catherine noticed his furrowed brows and the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Don't try to control it," she instructed gently. "You're not meant to dominate it. Connect with it. Feel it. Embrace it. Become one with it."
Taking a steadying breath, Asher pushed aside his instinct to wrestle with the blood's immense energy. Instead, he let himself immerse in it, like a drop of water merging into a vast ocean. That's when he noticed the strange, paradoxical nature of her essence. Her blood felt both alive and dead, vibrating with vitality and yet eerily stagnant at the same time.
The realization struck him: Catherine wasn't entirely human. Her blood bore traces of the undead—a race tied to death yet not fully consumed by it. But it wasn't like any undead he had read about. There was something unique, something far more profound. He couldn't yet pinpoint what kind of being she was, but one thing was clear: her blood wasn't ordinary.
As the connection deepened, images began to flicker in his mind. He caught glimpses of a younger Catherine, her radiant beauty unchanged, standing over a man whose face was twisted in terror. The air crackled with magic as her victim cursed her in his dying breath, binding her to the castle. He could feel her fury, her pain, and her defiance as she stood tall, refusing to break even in the face of imprisonment. This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
Catherine's voice brought him back. "You're starting to understand, aren't you?" she said softly, a trace of sadness in her tone. "The weight I carry is not something most can fathom."
Asher opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. He didn't release her wrist immediately. "Your blood… it's beyond anything I've ever felt. It's like it's alive but not… and it's tied to something ancient, something vast."
She smiled faintly, her expression unreadable. "You've only scratched the surface, Master. But you've done well. You didn't crumble under the pressure."
Freya, who had been silently observing, frowned and crossed her arms. "What did you see?" she asked, her tone cautious.
Asher released Catherine's wrist and straightened up. "I saw enough to understand why she's sealed here. She wasn't lying about the curse."
Freya narrowed her eyes. "And the rest?"
He glanced at Catherine, who gave him a slight nod of approval. "The rest," Asher said, his tone firm, "isn't something I can explain easily. But she's not an enemy."
Catherine chuckled softly. "Wise words. Now, shall we continue exploring? Or do you have more questions for me, Master?"
Asher looked at her thoughtfully before asking, "Can I show Freya what I saw?"
Catherine tilted her head, a hint of curiosity in her expression. "Why are you even asking?" she questioned, her ruby eyes narrowing slightly.
"It's your memory," Asher replied simply. "I don't know if you'd like it to be shared or not."
Catherine's expression softened, and she shook her head with a faint smile. "There's nothing I am ashamed of in what you saw, especially since the one involved is long dead. But..." Her smile widened, becoming a touch more genuine. "It's rare to meet someone who would ask for permission first instead of assuming they have the right. You're... different, Master."
Asher nodded at her response, then asked once more, "So, I can show her?"
"Yes," Catherine confirmed with a slight nod. "You may share it. But be warned—while you experienced it in an instant, it will take time for her. Memories like these can be overwhelming for those unprepared."
She gestured with a flick of her wrist, and three plush chairs appeared in the grand hall. "Sit," she commanded. "Unlike you, who saw it directly through the bond, she'll need to experience it as it unfolds. It might take some time, so be patient."
Freya hesitated, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Why are you even showing me her memories?" she asked, glancing between Asher and Catherine.
Asher sighed, crossing his arms. "Because I can tell you don't fully trust her, Freya. I don't blame you—her story is... unusual. But I also know you won't take my word for it. Seeing her truth for yourself might help."
Freya's gaze shifted to Catherine, who stood silently, her demeanor calm yet regal. "You trust her enough to show me this?" Freya asked, her voice carrying a hint of suspicion.
"I trust what I saw," Asher replied firmly. "And I trust you to understand what she's been through once you see it."
Freya hesitated but eventually sat down in one of the chairs. "Fine. Show me."
Catherine's eyes glimmered faintly as she stepped closer, speaking in a quiet, commanding tone. "Remember this, girl: what you are about to see isn't a justification, nor is it an apology. It is simply the truth. Take it or leave it."
Freya nodded, bracing herself. "I'm ready."
Asher stepped forward, placing a hand on Freya's forehead. He closed his eyes, allowing the bond he had formed with Catherine's memories to flow into Freya's mind. Slowly, the room around them faded, and Freya found herself immersed in Catherine's past—a haunting story of her.
The Demi-Plane was once a thriving world known as the Dark Existence World, a realm shrouded in eternal night. The absence of sunlight had shaped it into a haven for nocturnal creatures. Vampires, witches, werewolves, and various other beings of the night roamed freely.
And the vampire clan were the True ruler of this world, but among them, one vampire species reigned supreme among other Vampire Clan—the Bloodcrown Clan.
This clan was renowned for their unique and terrifying ability, Bloodcrown. With this power, they could create Blood Warriors, undead entities composed entirely of blood. These warriors were impervious to physical attacks, and even magical assaults were only 20% effective against them. Their sole weakness was holy magic, a rarity in a world where darkness dominated.
Though, very powerful they were an peaceful clan that never wished to Dominate, and always remained from where they began.
Within the kingdom, one of the four High Duke families—the most powerful families beneath the royal lineage—held dominion: the Bloodcrown High Duke Household. This family's influence stretched across the land, rivaling even the royal family in power.
The Blood Jewel Kingdom was alive with festivity. In the sprawling halls of the Bloodcrown estate, a magnificent ball was underway. Nobles from various vampire lineages, each with pale skin, ruby-like eyes, and pointed ears, danced elegantly to hauntingly beautiful music. Their chatter filled the air as they mingled and drank from ornate goblets filled with crimson liquid.
Suddenly, the sound of a bell echoed through the grand hall, silencing the crowd.
A regal figure stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate respect. This was Alaric Bloodcrown, the High Duke of the Bloodcrown household. His crimson eyes scanned the room as he raised a glass high, his voice resonating across the chamber.
"Esteemed guests," he began, his tone smooth yet authoritative, "today, we gather to celebrate a momentous occasion—the 18th birthday of my youngest and most radiant child."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the crowd before continuing.
"Please welcome, my daughter, Lady Catherine Bloodcrown."
As the final word left his lips, the lights in the hall dimmed, save for a spotlight that illuminated the grand staircase. The room fell into a hushed awe as a figure emerged at the top of the stairs.
Catherine descended with regal grace. Her flowing black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her piercing ruby eyes gleamed like twin jewels. She wore a striking crimson gown, adorned with intricate patterns that shimmered in the dim light, and a matching cape trailed behind her. In her delicate hand, she held a goblet, the dark liquid within reflecting the dim glow of the hall.
As she reached the base of the staircase, the crowd erupted in a unified chant:
"All hail Lady Catherine Bloodcrown!"
The nobles and esteemed guests bowed low, their reverence palpable. Even the three other High Dukes, whose power rivaled that of her father, inclined their heads slightly—an acknowledgment of her status.
Catherine scanned the crowd, her expression calm yet commanding, exuding an air of dignity and control. This was her night—a celebration of her coming into her own as a member of the Bloodcrown lineage.
Catherine smiled, a dazzling expression that seemed to illuminate the dimly lit hall. Her beauty was utterly captivating, leaving many of the younger nobles staring at her with wide eyes and slackened jaws. Whispers rippled through the crowd, admiration and awe evident in their voices.