Chapter 6 The Blood Oath

The night air felt thick, like it was holding its breath. The moon peeked from behind the dark clouds, throwing a soft silver light through the high windows of the throne room. The obsidian floor glimmered faintly as Elsa stood in the center of the cold, silent space. The same shadows that had bound her before now circled slowly around her like dark ribbons, waiting. Watching.

Cruz stood at the foot of the throne, a tall figure cloaked in black, the faint red veins of the throne behind him pulsing like a heartbeat. His golden eyes burned like fire against the night. But tonight, there was something different in them. No mockery. No quiet smile. Only cold purpose.

“You can’t fight this forever, little flame,” he said softly, his voice carrying through the room like a low growl wrapped in silk. “The mark has chosen you. The throne has accepted you. Now the oath must be sealed.”

Elsa’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Cruz took a slow step closer. The shadows slithered forward with him, moving like living creatures. “You belong to the bond,” he said. “Not me. Not you. The blood oath is older than both of us.”

She shook her head, taking a step back even though she knew there was nowhere to run. The walls of the throne room stretched high into darkness, endless and unkind. Every inch of this place felt alive, as if it were waiting for her to surrender.

“I don’t want your throne. I don’t want your shadows.”

“And yet,” Cruz said, stopping just a breath away from her, “your heartbeat echoes with mine.”

The words made her chest tighten. She didn’t want to believe it. But she could feel it—the pull. The same strange warmth that burned inside her whenever he came close. The same rhythm that wasn’t just her own heartbeat anymore.

Cruz lifted his hand, and a black blade formed from the shadows themselves, rising from his palm like smoke turning solid. The blade gleamed faintly red at the edge, humming with something old and powerful.

Elsa’s breath caught. “What are you doing?”

“The oath must be made,” he said simply. “A king and his chosen. A bond of shadow and flame. You can resist it all you want, but the throne does not accept half-measures.”

She shook her head again, but her voice trembled. “I won’t let you control me.”

Cruz’s expression softened just slightly, something almost human flickering in his golden eyes. “This isn’t control,” he whispered. “It’s fate.”

Before Elsa could move, the shadows wrapped around her wrists, lifting her arms gently but firmly. She gasped, struggling against them, but they only tightened with a cold strength she couldn’t break.

Cruz raised the blade between them. “Blood answers to blood. Shadow answers to flame.”

“No—”

But his hand cut through the air. The blade slid across his palm, and dark red blood dripped onto the black floor. The ground beneath them shuddered as the throne behind him pulsed brighter, glowing like hot iron. Then he turned the blade toward her.

“Take it,” he said.

Elsa stared at him, breath shaking. “You’re mad.”

“Take it,” Cruz repeated, his voice low and steady.

She wanted to refuse. To scream. To burn this whole room down. But the throne had its own heartbeat, and it was calling her name. The pull between them grew stronger, like invisible hands pressing her closer.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the blade. The moment her skin touched it, the shadows around her flared, wrapping up her arms in cold heat. She hissed as the blade sliced her palm. Warm blood pooled between her fingers, bright against the darkness.

The air shifted.

Cruz stepped closer until their palms hovered inches apart—his hand dripping with shadow-dark blood, hers with flame-bright red. The shadows and her golden light reached for each other like two forces trying to merge and fight at the same time.

“Say the words,” Cruz murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “Or the throne will say them for you.”

Elsa’s lips trembled. She didn’t know the words, but something inside her did. The mark burned on her wrist, and the words rose like a whisper in her throat.

“My blood is my fire,” she breathed.

Cruz’s voice followed, low and steady. “My blood is my shadow.”

“Fire shall not fade.”

“Shadow shall not break.”

They pressed their palms together.

The moment their blood touched, the world exploded.

A pulse of dark red and gold light surged through the throne room, pushing the torches to flare wildly. The shadows around them screamed like they were alive, swirling faster and faster, wrapping the two of them in a storm. Elsa’s heartbeat merged with his, pounding in perfect rhythm.

She gasped as heat and cold flooded her veins at once. His darkness slid into her like smoke, cold and heavy, and her flame pushed back, warm and fierce. They clashed in a storm that made the air shiver.

Cruz’s eyes burned brighter than ever. “It’s done,” he whispered.

Elsa stumbled back as the shadows released her. The mark on her wrist now glowed a deep crimson, twisting like a serpent made of light and darkness. She felt different. Not just warm, not just scared. Linked.

“You can’t run from this now,” Cruz said softly. “The blood oath has been made. Our fates are bound.”

Elsa stared at him, her hand still trembling. “Then I’ll find a way to break it,” she hissed.

Cruz tilted his head, a dark smile slowly curving his lips. “You can try, little flame. But the throne doesn’t like being broken.”

Thunder rumbled outside, as if the heavens themselves had heard the oath. The storm had begun to answer their bond.

And deep in Elsa’s chest, the fire and the shadow pulsed together, two enemies forced into one heartbeat.

This was no longer just a bond.

This was war.