The magic lamps, the banners of Valtheris, my father's gasp, my mother's trembling lips — everything broke apart like shards of glass.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
I found myself standing in nothingness. No floor beneath my feet. No walls, no sky. Just black, pitch-black darkness everywhere.
The silence was so deep I could hear my own heartbeat. Each thump sounded like a drum inside my chest. Even my breath sounded too loud, every inhale and exhale scratching against my ears.
And then I saw it.
That damn white rose.
It floated in front of me, the only light in the darkness. A glow, small but sharp, like a firefly in a night without a moon, showing me a path in darkness.
The same white rose that had drunk my blood every time I died. But now… it was different.
Its petals were no longer pure white. One petal was half stained crimson, dripping with blood. My blood. The other petals stayed pale, untouched, like half of it still clung to purity.
Drop by drop, the blood slid down, falling into the black nothing below.
I froze. I couldn't move, couldn't take even a single step.
It was not fear, but my body denied my command to move. My heart pounded, too loud in the silence.
The rose swayed, even though there was no air, no wind. And as it moved, I thought I heard something — a whisper. A voice, soft and thin, like it was coming from the rose itself.
Seraphina… Seraphina Valtheris… Blood Princess…
The sound echoed in my head, over and over. My breath caught in my throat. My fingers curled tight at my sides.
The bloody rose leaned toward me.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Blood fell from its petals — my blood — and each drop hissed when it struck the black ground that wasn't even there, like fire meeting water.
Then the ground cracked. Red veins spread out from the breaks, crawling like roots.
Thorns burst through the vines, sharp and wet with blood. They spread fast, reaching for me.
I tried to move back but couldn't, and the vines caught me. They coiled around my arms, my legs, and my waist. Cold, tight, pulling me down.
Then one thorn rose higher, sharp as a blade.
It stabbed straight into my chest.
I gasped. Pain ripped through me as the thorn pierced my heart.
I screamed, but my voice didn't come out; only my mouth opened. Tears from my eyes welled.
My blood spilt; I felt it. But the vines didn't drink my blood.
Not this time.
Instead… for the first time, this damn curse gave something back.
Through the pain, a warmth spread inside me. Slow at first, then stronger, burning hot. Like a coal dropped in cold water.
It was power.
I could feel it crawling through my veins, filling the hollow places the curse had carved out in me.
The darkness trembled, and the crimson glow from the rose pierced it.
And I knew — this was no dream. The pain was too real to not be a dream. It was the nightmare. I had forgotten the pain after dying many times.
But this felt like every pain I had ever felt at the end of each life came back to me all at once. And it rose from my heart, spreading through my whole body.
This was the curse itself. And for the first time, it was not just taking from me.
It was offering something back.
My heart started to bleed, and the drops of blood fell on the ground.
The ground cracked, and from the cracks another vine came out.
Bloodthorns… I could feel it. I didn't know how, but it was like that vine was an extension of my limb. Like a third hand had grown out of my body.
I could feel it linked to my mind.
I thought about moving it — and the vine moved. It was a vine without thorns at first, but when I commanded it, thorns grew from it. Bloodthorns.
I named it without thinking. I didn't know why I named it, but it came naturally to me, like I had known this spell for a very long time.
If I said go left, it went left. If I said go right, it went right. I swirled my finger in a circle, and it coiled around the darkness.
I was amazed and shocked. My eyes went wide with bewilderment.
I could feel the vines. They were thirsty. I could feel it in my mouth — dry, burning — like I wanted to drink, but not water. Blood.
Panic hit me. The urge was too strong, too overwhelming.
I dropped to my knees, clutching my chest. Sweat ran down my face, my body shaking.
My head hurt. I pressed both palms against my temples, trying to hold it in. My breath grew heavy, fast. Inhale, exhale – too quick, too shallow.
"Ahhh—" A broken sound slipped from me. The hunger to drink blood clawed at me, so strong it made me weak.
It felt like the Bloodthorns were drinking from me instead, taking my blood, draining my life.
I forced myself to act. I shouted in my mind and commanded the Bloodthorn to vanish.
The vines were gone, but the hunger was still there. I could feel it crawling in my throat, in my stomach, and in my blood itself. A thirst that no water could ever fill.
My lips parted and I licked them, and the thought terrified me. What if blood touched my tongue? Would I lose myself?
I slammed my fists on the dark ground beneath me. My arms trembled. My heart burnt.
I felt it — the Bloodthorns demanded a sacrifice. A sacrifice of blood.
And an eerie thought crept into my mind. There were many sacrifices waiting.
Prince Kaelen. Prince Mordred. And this damned whole world.
They would all become my sacrifices. They would all feed the thirst of the Bloodthorns.
My head threw up, and I laughed like a madwoman, but my hands were wide open.
As I turned my head down. I grinned. An eerie smile crept across my lips.