Chapter 2: Blood That Remembers
The air inside the crypt had turned cold, unnaturally cold.
Kian's breath fogged as he sat up slowly, his back still against the cracked stone wall, eyes locked on the girl with the silver eyes who had just dropped a truth that made no sense.
"You're the last Nightborn."
The words echoed in his skull like a bell tolling through empty cathedrals.
She stepped closer, her boots silent on the ancient marble floor. Her voice was calm, too calm, like someone used to saying things no one else could understand. "You felt it, didn't you? The relic. It chose you."
Kian glanced down at his hand, still faintly trembling. The blood-stained pendant pulsed with faint crimson light against his chest, as if responding to her.
"I… don't even know what a Nightborn is." His voice cracked. "I don't know who you are. Or what this place is. Or why I was even in a damn crypt to begin with."
Selene didn't flinch. "You were dying. The relic saved you."
"I didn't want saving," he muttered bitterly. His chest still burned—not from wounds, but from memory. The fire. The betrayal. His screams. The faces of people who should've protected him. Loved him.
Selene's silver eyes softened for a moment. "No one wants to survive hell. But sometimes, hell spits out the ones it fears."
Kian blinked.
That wasn't comforting.
Before he could speak, a voice whispered in the back of his mind again—cold, ancient, heavy with age and rage.
"Blood remembers, even if the mind forgets. Wake, Nightborn. Wake."
He gritted his teeth and clutched his head, groaning. The relic felt like it was burrowing into his soul, dragging pieces of something long-buried to the surface.
Selene crouched in front of him. "It's starting. The awakening. You need to fight it—no, not fight. Accept it."
"Accept what?!"
"That you're not entirely human anymore."
His breath caught. "What… what do you mean?"
The silver-eyed girl tilted her head. "Your blood… is remembering what it once was."
A sudden thrum echoed through the crypt—a low, growling vibration that made dust fall from the ceiling.
Selene stiffened and stood up abruptly. "They found you faster than I thought."
"Who?"
Before she could answer, a sharp sound split the air.
Bang!
The massive stone doors of the crypt rattled. Another bang. Then a splintering crack echoed across the chamber.
Selene's voice was sharp. "We need to move."
Kian tried to stand, but his legs buckled. His entire body ached. The relic felt like molten lead in his chest.
Another bang—louder this time. The door cracked open, and something inhuman shrieked on the other side.
He looked up at her, panicked. "What the hell is that?!"
She drew a thin, silver dagger from her boot. Its blade glowed faintly blue. "Not that. Them. Bloodhunters. If they get to you before your awakening stabilizes…"
Another shriek.
Selene's voice turned urgent. "Can you walk?"
"I—I think so."
He pushed himself up with a shaky groan. Just as he got to his feet, a chunk of the crypt door exploded inward, and something stepped through the shadows.
It wasn't human.
Tall. Drenched in tattered robes. Skin like dry ash stretched over bone. Glowing red eyes. And long, needle-thin claws twitching at its sides.
It sniffed the air. Smiled.
"Found you, Nightborn."
Kian's heart slammed into his ribs.
"What is that?!" he yelled, backing up.
"A Scout," Selene replied, blade raised. "One of many."
The creature lunged—fast, faster than anything should move. But before it reached them, Selene moved even faster. In a blur of motion, she ducked low, slicing through the Scout's leg with unnatural precision.
It screeched and toppled, but it wasn't dead. It writhed, laughing, its voice like broken glass. "He isn't ready. He doesn't remember yet."
Another bang shook the crypt.
"More are coming," Selene hissed. "Kian—we need your power now. Reach for the relic. Let it in."
"I don't know how!"
Selene shoved the dagger into his hand. "Then bleed for it."
He looked at her in horror. "What?!"
"Just a cut. A drop. The relic is bound to your blood now. It needs it."
He hesitated. Then, with a trembling hand, he pressed the blade against his palm and sliced.
As blood dripped down his fingers, the relic around his neck flared.
His vision blurred. Pain lanced through his chest. The walls of the crypt warped.
Time slowed.
The Scout screeched again, but this time its voice was distant, like underwater echoes.
And then… it came.
A pulse.
Dark and ancient. As if something monstrous had just drawn its first breath in centuries—inside him.
"You are Nightborn."
"Awaken."
His eyes flared crimson.
The world exploded into motion.
He didn't know how, but suddenly he was moving—no, flying. One blink and he was across the room. Another blink, and the Scout's throat was in his hand.
He heard its thoughts. Its fear. Its hunger.
Then—he crushed its windpipe in a single squeeze.
The body collapsed in a heap of ash and bone.
Silence.
Selene stared at him, wide-eyed.
He looked down at his hands, trembling, eyes glowing red.
"What… what did I just do?"
"You barely scratched the surface," she whispered. "And they'll only get stronger."
Another bang shook the crypt. This time, the door shattered.
Three more Bloodhunters entered—bigger, faster, hungrier.
Selene turned to him, urgent.
"You have two choices. Run… or embrace what you've become."
Kian stepped forward, chest heaving, the relic burning like a second heart.
And then—
The voice returned.
"The blood you spilled… has awakened others. You are no longer hidden."
"They are coming for you."
"And not even death will stop them."
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To Be Continued...