Chapter 5 The blood debt

The storm hadn’t stopped since the night she attacked the opera house.

Trine’s skies felt heavy clouds and carried silver lightning that split the night in flashes. Seraphina stood by her window, staring at the reflection of that glow on the wet streets below.

The city had started to whisper her name again.

The Blood Queen.

The Lost One.

The witch who refused to die.

She ignored the rumors, but part of her couldn’t help the small, dark satisfaction that came with hearing them. Fear spread fast, and fear was power.

Still, she knew what would come next.

The Court wouldn’t ignore her challenge.

By midnight, she had her proof.

A letter slid under her door, a single page written in black ink.

It wasn’t signed, but the handwriting was sharp and familiar.

If you want answers, come to the cathedral. Alone.

She didn’t need to guess who sent it.

Caelum.

For a moment she just stood there, the paper trembling slightly in her hand.

After a thousand years, the man who had once promised her eternity had called her back.

She folded the letter and put it in her pocket. She didn’t think about what would happen next. Thinking meant hesitation, and hesitation meant death.

She took one last look at the shop and  the life she’d built, the quiet corner of peace she’d carved for herself. She   blew out the candle.

The cat lifted its head. She smiled faintly. “Stay,” she whispered. “This isn’t your fight.”

Then she was gone.

The cathedral stood at the edge of the city like a skeleton ; tall, ruined, and full of echoes. It had once been holy. Now it belonged to the dark.

She stepped inside. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of old blood. Candles burned along the aisles, their flames unnaturally steady.

She felt the trap before she saw it.

Magic hummed in the walls; not witchcraft, but something older.

“Come out,” she said softly. “You didn’t call me here to hide.”

Footsteps echoed. Six figures stepped out from behind the pillars, their eyes glowing faintly red. Hunters.

The one in front smiled. “He expected you to come.”

“Of course he did,” she said. “He always liked control.”

They moved first.

The first lunged with claws out, but she caught his wrist and twisted until bone cracked. The second came from behind, and  she spun, her blade flashing once, clean and final.

The others hesitated.

“You don’t have to die for him,” she warned.

The leader laughed. “You think this is about him? You’re the reason he became what he is.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He was made to love you,” the hunter said. “And when you fell, he broke. You think he betrayed you? You created him.”

Her grip on the blade tightened. “Lies.”

“Ask him yourself,” he said and laughed.

She met him halfway.

The fight was fast. The hall filled with the hiss of steel and the crash of stone. One by one, the hunters fell, their bodies dissolving into ash.

When the last one collapsed, Seraphina stood in silence, surrounded by dust and fading candlelight. Her hands were steady, but her chest ached.

If what they said was true,  if she had created Caelum,  then everything she thought she knew was wrong.

The mark on her neck burned. The ring pulsed again, harder now, responding to something unseen.

She turned slowly. The air behind her shimmered, bending the light.

For a heartbeat, she saw him.

Caelum Draven.

Standing in the doorway, dressed in black, silver eyes glowing faintly under the red light that poured through the cathedral glass.

The sight hit her like fire and ice. He looked the same; ageless, beautiful, impossible. But his presence filled the room like a storm that had been waiting centuries to break.

“Seraphina,” he whispered gently .

Her name sounded different on his tongue; divine,  soft, reverent and dangerous, all at once.

She didn’t move. “So it’s true.”

He smiled faintly. “You always did have a talent for trouble.”

“Is that why you sent them?” she asked. “To test me?”

“I needed to see how much of you was left.”

Her voice trembled with anger. “You could have asked.”

“You wouldn’t have come.”

He stepped closer. She could feel the bond between them hum like a heartbeat. It wasn’t love. It was history, thick and heavy.

“What do you want, Caelum?” she asked.

His expression flickered, pain buried under calm. “To make things right.”

“By killing me?”

“No,” he said. “By saving you. You have no idea what’s coming.”

She took a step back. “I know enough.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then his eyes softened. “I never stopped looking for you.”

Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out. “You should have.”

The candles blew out, one by one, leaving them in darkness.

When the last flame died, Caelum was gone.

Seraphina stood alone in the silence, the echo of his voice still in her head.

He was alive. He had changed. And somewhere in his calm tone, she had heard a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

He wasn’t trying to kill her.

He was trying to stop her from remembering.