Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 19: Incantation.

The vibrations ripple through the very foundations of the castle, shaking my thoughts from their moorings. Fear and confusion intertwine within me, a frantic whirlwind of terror. Is this an earthquake? But no, it can’t be just that.

Amidst the calm around me, I notice everyone’s gazes directed upwards, even Kieran’s. A collective hush envelops the ballroom as I realise that the commotion is not due to tremors but to something far more otherworldly. They’re looking up at the ceiling, and my eyes follow suit.

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The vast disc of stone in the ceiling begins to shift and grean, the constellations painted upon moving like ancient gears. It’s as if the very heavens are in motion, revealing a window into the night sky. Through the glassless opening, a cascade of eerie red moonlight bathes the room, casting an ethereal hue upon everything it touches. The moon, a crimson orb hanging in the dark expanse, feels like a sinister eye watching us from above, an ominous presence.

Attention shifts to the heart of the room, where a grand dais has been erected. It’s a creation of dark black marble veined with crimson, a fire coursing through the stone like veins of molten Java. The dais draws the eyes of every guest, a focal point for the enigmatic proceedings.

“Time for the show to begin, eh?” Kieran says grinning, a twinkle in his eye. “Ah, here she comes. That’s yer mam, innut?”

At one end of the ballroom, a commotion stirs as a figure is brought forth. Clad entirely in white, she stands out starkly against the sea of red. A gown of intricate lace and Edwardian elegance graces her form, a blend of christening purity and the solemnity of a wedding day. In her golden hair, white roses are woven like celestial stars. Her face is veiled, an enigma shrouded in a white, a mournful and haunting visage that draws my attention like a magnet. It’s halfway between a wedding veil and a funeral shroud, an effect I’m sure isn’t entirely unintended.

Walking hand in hand with her new husband, my mother is ushered into the ballroom. Konstantin guides her with an air of reverence as they mount the dais, standing side by side. His presence is commanding, his aura potent as he gazes upon her, and her upon him.

Anya, a pillar of authority, stands poised on the dais, her presence commanding the attention of all. As her voice carries through the hall, a mantle of solemnity enshrouds her words, an almost

priestly cadence that commands reverence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow kindred, we gather here under the watchful eye of the Blood Moon to witness a union forged in the bonds of blood and fate,” Anya intones, her voice carrying the

weight of ages. “From the ancient annals of our lineage, this ceremony has endured, a testament

to the unbreakable connections that bind our kind.

Chapter 10 Incantatiem

Anya’s wonde weave a tapestry of history, a story etched in the marrow of their existence. She speaks of an era when vampires were born not of curse or calamity, but of a profound need to safeguard their world. Her words summon visions of a time when night and day existed in harmonious balance, when humans lived unburdened by shadows.

In a time beyond time, when night and day were like the rhythmic pulse of a single heart, our kind emerged not as predators, but as guardians, Anya explains, her gaze holding the crowd. “Long before the world knew the fracture of darkness, our ancestors forged a sacred covenant with the moon, pledging their lives to protect the fragile realm of mortals.”

She unfolds a tale of a pact formed under the watchful gaze of the moon itself, an ancient vow sworn amidst moonlit groves. “It was during the peak of a red moon, when the heavens seemed to bleed, that our forebears united with the celestial forces. In a dance of shared destiny, they pledged their loyalty to the moon, its brilliance a mirror to their own immortal existence.”

Anya’s voice becomes a melodic cadence, carrying the enchantment of fables and legends. “They swore to guard the realms of humanity, to ensure their survival even in the depths of night’s embrace. And in return, the moon granted them strength, unity, and dominion over the shadows. Thus, the ceremony was born, a testament to the bond between vampire and celestial guardian.

Her words resound, enveloping the room in an aura of history and legacy. “For centuries, we have been the watchmen of both mortal and immortal realms, protectors of the balance between light and darkness. This ceremony is our testament, our eternal promise to uphold the sacred duty entrusted to us.”

Anya’s gaze pierces the veil of time, connecting the past to the present, the present to the future. “As we stand beneath the red moon, let us remember our shared ancestry, our bloodline that courses through the veins of history. Let us renew our vow to protect, to safeguard, and to stand as sentinels against the encroaching tides of chaos.

Her speech is a tapestry woven from the threads of history, a living testament to the lineage that binds them all. The room falls silent, the air heavy with the weight of tradition, the resonance of destiny. It’s a moment that stretches beyond the confines of time, a bridge that connects them to their ancestors and to the world they’ve sworn to protect.

As the final word

words of Anya’s speech dissipate into the air, the room’s atmosphere shifts. The energy is palpable, a charged undercurrent that stirs the very essence of their beings. In this moment, I’m acutely aware of my own humanity, my role as a witness to a ceremony that transcends even the most vivid of dreams.

As Anya’s speech reaches its crescendo, a female vampire adorned in scarlet steps forward, her face veiled by a lace as red as the roses twined through her hair. A cushioned pillow holds a gleaming silver ritual dagger, a tool of significance. The air is pregnant with anticipation as she

appens here Komantan, bearing the weight of tradition

The dogge ploners as it’s purcord to him. Another figure, draped in a deep purplish red and

crowned with red spuder lilies, steps forth with a silver chalice, gleaming red in the bloody

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moonlight.

Konstantin a wrist is hared, and the dagger bites into his flesh as he tears a sharp, deep cut,

imson river flows, his blood pouring into the silver chalice. The room is hushed, every vampire present reverent, sombre,

In unison, they murmur incantations, a chorus that reverberates with the weight of centuries. The room becomes a sanctuary of collective energy, the air heavy with the mingling of words that transcend time itself.

Then Anya’s voice rings out through the hushed murmuring, as she begins to sing.

“By the moon’s pale glow and the night’s embrace,

In shadows deep where ancient powers race,

I call upon the essence of the eternal night,

To weave the threads of destiny, so tightly wound and right.

Blood of life, now blood of the damned,

Blend and bind as dark forces demand.

From mortal coil to the realm unseen,

1 beckon the transition, the path between.

As veins intertwine, as life intertwines,

Let this gift be granted by design divine.

In darkness reborn, in immortality’s grace,

Let the chains of mortality now unlace.

Vampiric legacy, awaken within,

Rise from the ashes where new life begins.

Chapter 19: Incantation

Fangs of hunger, eyes àflame,

Thirst unquenchable, the immortal’s name.

Embrace the shadows, embrace the might,

From death’s sweet kiss emerges this new flight.

Awaken, arise, a creature of the night,

By this ritual’s power, embrace the endless night.”

The final notes of Anya’s song fade away, and Konstantin’s attention turns to his bride. The veil shrouding her face remains, her expression concealed, a mystery awaiting revelation. My mother’s eyes betray a cocktail of fear and determination.

The silver chalice, brimming with Konstantin’s blood, is placed within her trembling hands. She lifts it to her lips, the promise of unity between them quivering in the air. And in that moment, as the room holds its breath, my own resolve surges within me.

As the chalice nears her lips, I set my own plan into motion, a gamble borne of desperation, driven by a desire to change the course of fate. Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

Chapter Comments

EJ

and here we go. I have a feeling something bad is going to happen.

Tami Baldon

Uh–oh!

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