Soulbound Ascension

Circa 1465

The sky is a canvas of iron and ash, swollen with storm clouds threatening to split the heavens. Wind shrieks through the jagged peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, a wailing dirge that seems to echo the screams rising from the battlefield below. The air is heavy with the stench of death—blood, sweat, and the acrid tang of burnt flesh. Even the earth beneath my knees feels soaked in suffering. Mud mingled with crimson as though the mountain itself bleeds.

I stand at the edge of a narrow plateau, cradled by the cliffs that loom like the teeth of some ancient beast. Behind me, the twisted black trunks of a forest stretch into the fog, their skeletal branches clawing at the heavens. Before me lies the current ruler of the Vampire Realm.

His once-pristine armor, wrought from blackened steel and adorned with the sigils of his royal lineage, is shattered. Deep gouges streak his breastplate, revealing the pale flesh beneath—flesh torn and oozing sluggish streams of blood as dark as ink. His crimson eyes dulled now, flutter open before slipping shut again. He looks smaller like this, lying motionless against the jagged stone, the grandeur of the Voivode Drăculea reduced to a fragile, broken form.

The ritual circle encases us, etched into the frozen soil with trembling hands. Its sigils are sharp and angular, carved with the precision of desperation. The lines glisten, illuminated by the sickly glow of moonlight breaking through the storm clouds. I've smeared my blood over them, crimson streaks stark against the icy ground. The symbols pulse now, as though alive, waiting for my command.

"Voivode," I whisper, my voice audible over the howl of the wind. My trembling fingers brush against his cheek, and I flinch at the unnatural coldness of his skin.

His lips part, a faint snarl escaping as his chest heaves. "Voivodina..." he rasps, his voice a raw scrape that twists my heart.

"I'm here," I say, my tone soft but unsteady.

His gaze sharpens for a fleeting moment, locking onto mine. Even now, there is a flicker of defiance in his crimson eyes, a fire that refuses to be extinguished. "They're coming... for us," he hisses, his fangs glinting weakly beneath bloodied lips. "You can't... stop them."

"They're already here," I reply, my voice heavy with sorrow. I glance past him toward the battlefield below, a churning sea of death and ruin. Torches flicker in the distance, the shouts of fellow bloodsuckers and shapeshifters rising in a dissonant chorus. The dark forms of winged creatures' flit through the chaos, their screeches cutting through the gale. Once, they were his army. Now, they are his executioners.

The Blood King struggles to rise, but his strength fails him. He collapses back against the frozen earth with a groan, his hands curling into fists. "Don't... don't let them take me."

"They won't," I promise, though the words are as much a plea as a vow. My fingers tighten around his gauntlet, slick with his blood. "I won't let them have you. I won't let anyone take you."

His lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. "Liar," he breathes, and the accusation stings more than it should.

I pull away, my hands trembling as I press them to the sigils on the ground. The magic beneath us stirs, thrumming like the heartbeat of some noble beast. The storm above mirrors its pulse, lightning crackling across the sky in jagged veins of white.

"I bind your soul," I begin, my voice steady despite the tears streaking my face. "To the cycle of breath, to the string of destiny. You will walk among mortals, reborn in flesh untainted by the shadow of what you once were. You will find your way, Dragul meu so soț. You will find yourself."

His eyes widen, the last embers of strength igniting into a fiery glare. "No..."

"I'm sorry," heart squeezed tight I whisper, though the words are drowned by the rising howl of the wind.

The ritual circle flares to life, its golden light carving through the gloom like a sun reborn.

The ground trembles beneath us, the sigils writhing and shifting as if alive. The spell surges through me, raw and untamed, its power threatening to rend me apart.

The Head of the Royal House of Musat thrashes, his body arching as the magic tears into him. His scream is a visceral sound, a howl of agony that cuts through the storm. I feel the resistance in his very essence, the stubborn defiance of a king unwilling to yield. But I press on, pouring every ounce of my will into the spell.

"I call upon you," I plead, voice breaking. "You who weave the threads of fate, who guard the cycle of life and death—hear me! Take his soul, grant him a second chance. Guide him to a life unburdened by what he has become!"

For a moment, nothing answers but the storm. Then the air shifts, growing heavy with a presence so vast and ancient it feels like the mountains themselves are bowing.

The wind stills and the golden light around him dims, replaced by a faint, silvery glow that seems to emanate from the very air. The presence is unseen, but it is there—vast, unknowable, and watching.

The glow around her soulmate intensifies, wrapping him in tendrils of light. His thrashing ceases, his body going limp as the magic strips him of his essence. The sharp lines of his vampiric features soften, his crimson eyes fading to a dull gray. His fangs retract, leaving only the ghost of the predator he once was.

"It is done."

The voice is neither male nor female, yet it resonates with a weight that feels older than time itself. I turn toward the unseen figure, breath hitching. The air around me hums with their presence, a pressure that makes it hard to breathe.

"His soul will walk the mortal plane," the voice continues, calm and implacable. "He will be reborn, stripped of his darkness and memory. When the time is right, the bond you share will awaken him."

I nod, though the tears streaming down my face make it hard to see. "Mulțumesc," I whisper, the words choked with grief.

There is a pause, the presence lingering as though weighing my resolve. "Know this, child of shadows: what you have done is not without consequence. The soul you save may not return to you as you remember. Love and fate are rarely kind."

The words are a blade, cutting deep into the fragile hope I cling to. But I cannot falter now.

"If that is the price, I will pay it," I say, my voice firm despite the ache in my chest.

The presence withdraws, leaving only the faint shimmer of light that lingers over her husband's now-mortal form. His once-majestic armor hangs loose on his body, its grandeur tarnished. He looks... ordinary.

I kneel beside him, my hand brushing against his cheek one last time. "I will find you," I vow, though I know he cannot hear me. "No matter what it takes, I will find you."

With the last of my strength, I weave the final enchantment, sealing myself within the crypt. The jagged stone walls rise around me, cold and unyielding. My body grows heavy, the exhaustion of the ritual pulling me into slumber.

The last thing I see before the darkness claims me is his still form, bathed in the faint glow of the spell that will carry him far from this broken place.

And as the mountain trembles, sealing me in my tomb, I send one last prayer into the heavens.

"Please," I whisper, the word a plea to gods I do not know. "Let him find the light."

Then the world fades to black, and I am gone.