The Blood of Vampire: Chapter 10 - The Throne of Celestial Ash
The ride back to the hidden Citadel was a blur of controlled spiritual panic. The searing scars from the Light-Aethyr backlash burned across Jatex's chest, a physical reminder of General Marius's ingenuity, but the deeper, more agonizing pain was the uncertainty over Aeliana's fate. The Shadow-Blood Weave allowed him absolute spiritual clarity, yet even its deepest reach could not penetrate the wards of his own Citadel to confirm her survival. He arrived at the hidden entrance just before dawn, his stamina severely depleted, and his control over the Thirst strained to the breaking point.
He found Aeliana in the command chamber, alive but leaning heavily against the ancient stone table, directing the movements of the three Crimson Watch acolytes he had left behind. Her Vaelanar shield was intact, but her exhaustion was profound. She had fought the assassins, using the core defensive principles of the Shadow-Weave to draw them into prepared traps—a testament to her own innate resilience.
The reunion was silent and desperate. Jatex crossed the room in two strides, pulling her into a fierce embrace, the coldness of his skin and the subtle, perpetual pulse of the Thirst a sharp contrast to the familiar warmth of her life.
"I heard the signal break," Jatex rasped, his voice raw. "I had to rely on you. I had to prioritize the Throne."
"I know," Aeliana whispered, pulling back to look into his crimson eyes, her own silver-amber gaze holding immense strain but no judgment. "The assassins were professional. But they expected Vaelanar defense, not aggressive counter-weaves. We held them, but they'll be back. You took a gamble, Jatex, but now we must prove it was the right one. Show me the maps."
The Decryption and the Hidden Heart
The satchel contained not full maps, but fractured charts of astronomical alignments, ancient Syldavian spiritual nodes, and detailed Aerthos military schematics. Jatex had the power; Aeliana had the lore and the intellectual discipline. Working over the next crucial, sleepless day, they combined their knowledge.
Jatex used his Shadow-Blood Weave to perceive the faint spiritual resonance of the ancient Syldavian markers on the charts, while Aeliana cross-referenced the celestial patterns against Aerthos's modern-day military infrastructure.
The truth revealed itself with chilling clarity. The Iron Throne of Syldavia was not hidden in a forgotten cave or an ancient ruin. It was located deep beneath Fortress Valerius—the largest, most secure Aerthos military headquarters in the occupied territory. The Fortress itself was built precisely over the spiritual coordinates where the Dragon of Ash constellation met the terrestrial nexus—the same alignment that keyed the Blackened Hearth.
"Marius wasn't searching for relics," Jatex realized, slamming his fist onto the table. "He was searching for a spiritual weapon to cement the Aerthos rule, and he built his main power base directly on top of the ancient heart of Syldavia."
The final chart, decoded by Jatex's growing mastery of the Blood Lord tongue, revealed the key to entry: the final seal was not a lock, but a spiritual signature—a massive, complex array that would only yield to the fusion of Aethyr discipline and the pure, predatory power of the Source Blood. It would only yield to a Blood-Weaver.
There was no time for siege. Jatex, his spiritual core singing with the controlled, cold hunger of the mission, prepared for infiltration.
The Infiltration of Fortress Valerius
Fortress Valerius was a staggering symbol of Aerthos power, a citadel of grey stone and iron dominating the horizon, protected by layered military patrols and constant surveillance. Jatex initiated his infiltration at the deepest point of night, utilizing his honed Spiritual Stealth to compress his entire aura into a pinprick of focused nothingness.
He moved through the fortress sewers and supply tunnels, utilizing his predatory awareness to anticipate the movements of guard patrols and magical tripwires. The Thirst, amplified by the painful scars, was a constant, demanding presence, but the necessity of control turned it into a hyper-efficient tool. He briefly and selectively consumed the life force of three solitary guards—enough for a momentary spiritual refill, neutralizing the guards instantly and maintaining his energy without compromising his stealth.
He reached the deepest subterranean level, beneath the primary armory, finding a thick, triple-locked vault door that radiated both high-level Aerthos security magic and the faint, cold echo of ancient Syldavian power.
Jatex approached the vault, ignoring the crude human locks. He placed both palms against the ancient stone and focused. He didn't push; he willed. He allowed the Shadow-Blood Weave to flow from his core—a silent, intense fusion of crimson and indigo—pressing his unique spiritual signature against the seal. The seal recognized the power of its Progenitor's lineage, recognizing the disciplined nature of the Blood-Weaver.
With a low, grinding sound that barely registered above the distant marching of troops, the vault door slid open, revealing a short passage that descended into profound, echoing darkness.
The Throne of Celestial Ash
Jatex descended into the hidden chamber, and the air immediately changed. It was cold, sterile, and yet vibrating with immense, captured power. The chamber was cyclopean, carved from black, volcanic stone, and the only illumination came from the star-like points of ancient, glowing runes etched into the ceiling.
In the center of the chamber, upon a circular platform of shimmering, celestial ash, sat the object of his quest: the Iron Throne of Syldavia.
It was not a majestic, golden seat, but a brutal, simple construction—a massive, black iron chair forged in the shape of a seated, stylized dragon, its surface rough and cold, etched with millennia of protective, terrifying ritual. It was a tool of ultimate spiritual authority, radiating a power that dwarfed any magical focus Jatex had ever encountered.
Jatex walked toward it, feeling the inevitable pull of destiny. He had walked a path of murder, exile, and consumption to reach this single point. He was no longer the conflicted Acolyte; he was the Blood-Weaver, the rightful heir to the darkness. He ascended the platform and, without hesitation, sat upon the Iron Throne.
The moment his body contacted the cold iron, a catastrophic spiritual feedback loop erupted. The Iron Throne, sensing the presence of the Source Blood, activated fully. Jatex didn't feel crowned; he felt impaled. A wave of pure, concentrated ancient knowledge flooded his mind—a devastating spiritual download that threatened to shatter his consciousness entirely.
This was the Chronicle of the Void.
The Chronicle of the Sleeper
Jatex endured the agony, gripping the armrests of the Throne as the cold, ancient truths were imprinted onto his mind:
The Sleeper's Nature: The entity beneath Syldavia was not a demon, but a pre-creation consciousness—a cosmic void that, if fully awakened, would consume all Aethyr and every form of life. It was a gravitational constant of destruction, drawn by the spiritual activity of the living world.
The Progenitor's Design: The original Blood Lord had not built the Throne to rule, but as a perpetual Lock and Transmitter. The Throne was designed to channel and synchronize the power of three primary artifacts—the Wards—to maintain the prison holding The Sleeper dormant.
The Cost: The Throne required constant, immense power to operate, and the only sustainable fuel was the controlled consumption of life force—the very function of the Blood Lord lineage. The Vaelanar's attempt to starve the Source Blood led directly to the weakening of the prison.
The Path Forward: The Chronicle provided the precise geographical and spiritual coordinates for the three necessary Wards—the Gem of Frozen Tears, the Chalice of Silent Light, and the Eye of the Golem.
Jatex rose from the Throne, his entire being ringing with the profound power and terrible responsibility of his discovery. His eyes, fixed and unwavering, were the color of fresh, resolute crimson. He was no longer fighting for the survival of the Vaelanar; he was fighting for the survival of the entire realm. He was the king, and the guardian, and the final line of defense. The true quest—the search for the Wards—had just begun.
The prophecy is revealed, and Jatex is now seated on the Iron Throne with a clear path forward.