Chapter 12
2066words
I jerked awake, opening my eyes to find not my spacious, bright master bedroom, but an entirely different space—dim yet luxurious. The ceiling was a dark dome painted with faded star charts. Heavy velvet drapes hung on the surrounding walls, blocking out every trace of outside light. The room's only illumination came from a candlestick in the corner, emitting a soft amber glow. I was lying on an enormous four-poster bed carved with intricate patterns, covered by a silky, cold silk quilt.
This was Silas's "room"—that secret chamber he had claimed in the deepest part of the underground cellar. I instinctively reached for my neck, which was carefully wrapped in soft bandages. The touch was smooth, and I could no longer feel any pain, only a slight numbness that remained after my life force had been drawn away.
"You're awake."
A low voice came from the shadows beside the bed. I turned my head to see Silas sitting in a high-backed armchair there. He had changed out of his battle-damaged formal attire and was wearing a loose, fine-quality black silk shirt with several buttons at the collar casually undone, revealing his pale, elegantly contoured collarbone. He no longer appeared as aggressive as before, but his expression was unusually complex. Those crimson eyes flickered in the candlelight like two restless flames.
"How long... have I been asleep?" My voice was somewhat hoarse.
"Twelve hours," he answered, his gaze still fixed on me. "For a human who has had nearly one-third of their blood drained, your recovery speed is astonishingly fast."
I struggled to sit up, but he immediately stood up, quickly walked to the bedside, and gently pressed me back down with a force that brooked no argument. "Don't move, your body still needs rest." His palm was cold, but his movements carried a hint of caution that even he himself had not noticed.
"You look... much better," I observed him. His face remained pale, but that sense of near-collapse weakness had disappeared, replaced by a reserved, even stronger presence. His existence was so intense that the very air in the room seemed to thicken because of him.
"That's thanks to you," Silas sat back down in the chair, his gaze growing deeper, "Nora, we need to talk about your blood."
My writer's instinct was immediately activated. "Is there something special about it?" I even wanted to reach for my "Field Notes," but was stopped by a warning look from him.
"Special?" He laughed self-mockingly, "That word is too pale. Your blood... it possesses an extraordinary power. It not only completely healed my wounds within minutes, even faster than my peak recovery speed before I fell into slumber. More importantly," he paused, as if searching for the right words, "it's like the purest fuel, temporarily and greatly enhancing my abilities. I can feel my power climbing at an unprecedented rate, every cell that has been dormant for hundreds of years is reawakening and boiling because of your blood."
These words gave me an inexplicable palpitation. I wasn't just a walking "blood bag," I was a walking "stimulant."
"But that's not the most important thing, Nora." Silas's expression suddenly became extremely serious, even with a trace of... gravity. "In my world, when a vampire accepts blood voluntarily offered by another creature, not for the purpose of 'embracing', a deep bond is established. We call it a 'Blood Covenant'."
"Blood Covenant?" This term full of classic fantasy elements made me instantly forget that I had just been hovering between life and death, curiosity overwhelming everything else.
"Yes, Blood Covenant." He looked at me, his gaze as complex as a churning sea, "It means that your life essence is now closely connected to mine. From now on, to any non-human creature with a keen sense of smell, you emit a mark that belongs exclusively to me. You're like a precious possession branded with a family crest, declaring your belonging to the entire world."
Declare my... belonging? This word made me feel somewhat uncomfortable, but even more so, I felt a strong desire to explore this unknown phenomenon. I struggled to sit up, and this time Silas didn't stop me. I leaned against the headboard, feeling physically weak but mentally extraordinarily stimulated. I eagerly grabbed my notebook and pen from the bedside table—they had been placed there at some point.
"This is fascinating!" I said while opening to a new page, "Is this 'aura marking' on a chemical level, or some kind of more metaphysical energy fluctuation? Does it weaken over time? Or does it require some kind of ritual to remove? For the two parties who have signed the blood contract, besides the olfactory marking, are there other sensory connections? Like telepathy, or emotional sharing?"
Like a scientist who has discovered a new species, I excitedly prepared to document this precious supernatural phenomenon capable of overturning established theories in the paranormal fiction world. However, what I received was not Silas's answer, but a deathly, unsettling silence.
I looked up to see Silas staring at me intensely, his crimson eyes churning with an emotion I had never seen before, like a violent storm. It wasn't arrogance, it wasn't amusement, it wasn't hunger, but rather a deeply wounded... anger and disappointment.
"You're always like this!" his voice suddenly rose, carrying an uncontrollable, violent tremor. He abruptly stood up from his chair, snatched the notebook from my hand, and slammed it violently to the ground. "You always treat everything as material for your damn novels! Don't you understand what this actually means?!"
I was stunned by his sudden outburst of rage.
He paced restlessly back and forth in the room like an enraged trapped beast. His powerful aura became extremely unstable due to the violent fluctuation of his emotions, causing the candlelight in the room to flicker wildly.
"In my world, Nora," he suddenly turned around, his hands pressed on the bed, trapping me between himself and the headboard, his crimson eyes burning with anger stared intently at me, "this kind of contract is the... is the most solemn promise that my kind can offer! It means your life is more important than my own! It means from now on, I will protect you at any cost! It means you—Eleanor Vince—will forever belong to me, and I can never allow anyone or anything to harm you ever again, not even in the slightest!"
His voice was hoarse with emotion, each word seemed to be squeezed from the depths of his soul. I stared at him blankly, looking at his eyes that were no longer wrapped in arrogance and indifference, showing true vulnerability and fear clearly for the first time. I finally understood what a desecration my calm, almost cruel "research attitude" must have seemed to him. What I regarded as the most sacred bond in my life, he saw reduced to cold words that could be recorded, analyzed, and eventually written into a story.
Just as I didn't know how to respond to these heavy emotions, a series of urgent knocks came from upstairs, penetrating the thick stone walls of the basement. "Nora! Eleanor Vince! Are you in there? Open the door!"
It was Finn's voice. His tone filled with unprecedented anxiety and urgency.
The vulnerability in Silas's eyes was instantly replaced by cold hostility. He straightened up and snorted coldly: "That wild dog's sense of smell is really damn sensitive." He gave me a deep look, as if saying "our conversation isn't over yet," then turned and disappeared into the darkness outside the door like a shadow.
I got dressed, quickly walked upstairs, and opened the manor's main door. Finn Grimm was standing at the entrance, still with his wild and unrestrained appearance, but his expression was tense, his amber eyes filled with worry. When his gaze fell on the conspicuous white bandage around my neck, his pupils suddenly contracted, and a clear look of mingled guilt and pain flashed in his eyes.
"I should have intervened sooner," he said in a low, hoarse voice, veins bulging on his tightly clenched fist.
"I'm fine, Finn, thank you." I said softly, my heart full of gratitude for his help that night.
"No, you're not fine." He looked up, his gaze fixed intensely on me. "I can smell it, that scent... that domineering scent belonging to him has completely invaded your body. He has formed a blood contract with you." His tone was not questioning, but stating.
I nodded, not knowing how to explain.
"I can't let you stay here alone anymore." Finn's expression became extremely serious. "Attacks like last night's will certainly not be the last. That vampire may be powerful, but he's too weak right now to protect you at all times. And I, restricted by certain ancient agreements, cannot freely enter the inner grounds of the estate."
He took a deep breath and made me a solemn proposal: "So, please allow me to establish a temporary guardpost near the manor, right at the edge of that forest. This way, if any danger approaches again, I can be there immediately. I promise you, I won't interfere with your life, I just... need to ensure your safety."
His gaze was so sincere, that primal, unadorned protective instinct made it impossible for me to refuse. I nodded and said softly, "Alright."
My mind was in chaos that entire day. Silas's painful confession and Finn's serious pledge of protection were like two massive boulders, making it hard for me to breathe. In the evening, I lay exhausted on my bed and quickly fell into dreams.
Once again, I found myself in that familiar white sea of flowers that belonged to Julian. But this time, the entire dream was shrouded in an unsettling, gloomy tone. The flowers were still in bloom, yet they all appeared listless.
Julian stood in the center of the flower sea, his figure more ethereal than ever before, as if he might dissolve into the air at any moment. His face bore an unprecedented worry and sorrow.
"You have ultimately chosen the most dangerous path, Eleanor," his voice was filled with heartache. "The establishment of the blood contract has disturbed some... older, more terrifying beings."
He didn't wait for my response, but simply extended his hand toward me: "Come with me, there are things you must see with your own eyes."
He held my hand, led me through the sea of flowers, and brought me to a closed black door that I had never seen before. He pushed open the door, revealing an empty, dark circular room behind it. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of some kind of light-absorbing black material, giving one the illusion of being suspended in the void.
In the center of the room stood a huge, oval mirror that was almost as tall as the walls. The frame was twisted in the form of thorns, covered with some kind of dried, dark red traces.
"Look into it, Eleanor," Julian's voice sounded behind me, with a slight tremor, "See what your true 'belonging' really is."
I gathered my courage and slowly, step by step, walked toward the enormous mirror. I raised my head and looked at the surface. However, what was reflected in the mirror was not my own face.
The image in the mirror was a blurry, constantly twisting and changing shadow. It had no fixed form, sometimes condensing into a tall, crown-wearing silhouette, sometimes dispersing into countless writhing tentacles, and sometimes transforming into a huge, sorrowful face composed of countless thorns. Deep within that chaotic shadow, I could sense a pair of eyes—eyes that contained the ancient loneliness and obsession of the universe—quietly gazing at me through the mirror.
It was a gaze I couldn't comprehend, yet felt inexplicably familiar. It was as ancient as this manor, as profound as Julian's sorrow, as domineering as Silas's possessiveness, as persistent as Finn's protection.
It... was the source of everything.
