Chapter 14 #2
Stephan stepped forward again, his gaze locked onto his father’s, burning. "You do not get to twist her into something she is not, to condemn her for sins that were never hers." He paused. And then: "Say another word against her." His voice dropped, lethal. "I dare you."
Silence followed, taut. For the first time, Raphael hesitated.
Eris’s fingers twitched. She had seen Stephan fight for her before, but this was different. This was defiance without fear. For a moment, her breath caught, but she forced it down. This was not the time for hesitation. This was the time to fight.
Her voice came, seething. "You think that is what I want? That I would destroy my family? Bring Stephan to ruin? If you refuse to end this war, there will never be peace in Goznoth. Your son will inherit ruins, when he could have ruled over a kingdom united."
Raphael’s lips curled. "Peace?" he scoffed. "You speak of peace like it is real. Like it ever lasts." His silver eyes flashed. "There is no peace, Eris. Only survival. Only rulers willing to fight hard enough to keep the world from burning."
Eris’s gaze burned. "For peace to survive, it must be built together. But if you think you can rule without listening…if you believe the Lycans will accept exile and submission, then you are nothing but a blind king clinging to a crumbling throne."
For a moment, the room held still, too still. Raphael’s presence darkened. His silver eyes glinted with something dangerous. No one had ever challenged his authority so openly.
"We are not pushing them away," Yori said calmly. "The Obsidian Order is bleeding their land dry. Not us."
Eris inhaled sharply. "That is true," she admitted. "But we let it happen. The Firstbloods stood by while their land was taken. We let their suffering become the price of our indifference."
Raphael’s fingers clawed into the table, his knuckles bone-white.
His control was fraying. "This is happening all over again," he spat.
"The same arrogance. The same defiance. The same weakness.
I will not watch this family suffer a second time.
" He squeezed his eyes shut, battling something inside himself.
Then it snapped. "You should have never been born! "
The room froze. Eris’s breath hitched.
Raphael moved, too fast to think, too fast to stop. Steel flashed as the blade fell, mercilessly.
Then came the clash, metal screaming, sparks lighting the chamber walls. The impact shook the room.
Stephan was there, steel meeting steel. Yori followed, seizing Raphael from behind and restraining him. Eris staggered, her pulse thundering.
Stephan’s sword remained locked against his father’s.
"If you want to kill her," Stephan said, voice lethal, "you will have to go through me."
Raphael’s chest rose and fell in ragged, shuddering breaths, his knuckles still white on the hilt. The room hung suspended.
Raphael’s gaze flickered between Eris, Stephan, and his trembling hands. What had he done?
His grip loosened, the blade dipping. His silver eyes, once cold, now looked haunted. He had acted on fury, on fear, and nearly—
His breath hitched.
Eris stood frozen, her face pale, breath shallow. Words abandoned her, swallowed by the enormity of the moment. She had prepared for Raphael’s scorn, for his anger. But this? Never had she believed he would raise a blade. Her body felt rooted while her mind spun, unable to grasp it.
Then Stephan’s fingers brushed her wrist lightly, as if testing if she would pull away. She did not. At his touch, her lungs drew a sharp breath, like surfacing from deep water.
She turned her hand slightly, fingers twitching toward his, acknowledging.
Stephan lowered his sword first. His body stayed taut, but his focus shifted from battle to resolution.
"This stops here," he said, and it was not a request.
Yori moved next. He released Raphael’s arms slowly, testing his balance, then stepped in front of him. His heart cracked at the sight of his brother, once his greatest ally, now a man driven by fear. It took everything Yori had not to strike him down for what he had done.
"We all need to take a breath. Sit down."
No one moved at first. Then Raphael exhaled sharply, shoved his sword into its sheath, and sank into the chair behind him, dragging a hand down his face without a word.
Stephan gently tugged Eris’s wrist. She followed, lowering herself into a seat, knowing her legs might not hold her.
Yori remained standing, his gaze shifting between them as he drew a long breath. "Raphael," he said, his voice steady but softer now, the weight of what had passed settling in. "What if Eris is right?"
Raphael’s head snapped up. "What?"
Yori leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "What if this is the time for change?"
Eris blinked at him, stunned.
"You and I were called visionaries once," Yori continued. "We broke tradition in the name of progress, and we were nearly cast out for it."
Raphael’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Yori’s gaze darkened. “When we split the throne, to hold up a kingdom too fractured for one crown, they called us radicals.
When we legalized vampirism, they called us heretics.
When we banned human hunting and built the blood banks, they called us weak.
And yet, despite the resistance, we built something stronger.
" His voice dropped, deliberate. "Maybe it is time we step aside, and let Eris and Stephan do the same. "
Raphael ran a hand through his hair, frustration and exhaustion etched into every movement.
"Even if you are right," he muttered, "the Firstblood Council will never accept Eris’s idealism. They will eat her alive."
Yori was silent for a moment, then smiled, knowing. "Then we do not give them a choice. We bind them to her."
Eris frowned. "What?"
Yori tapped lightly against the table, already a step ahead. "We bring forward the Crimson Vow. For both Stephan and Eris. We present it as a demonstration of loyalty, a way to silence doubts about Eris’s allegiance. No one will oppose it."
Raphael’s expression flickered. Stephan stiffened. Yori pressed on.
"Once the oath is taken, the Council will drink from their blood. And once they do, the magic in our blood will bind them inescapably, by blood, by legacy. They will not be able to deny them as sacred leaders."
Eris’s eyes snapped to Stephan, uncertain. She did not have to speak. He met her eyes and nodded, decisive.
Raphael leaned back, processing. It was dangerous, but it could work. Pride and fear warred inside him, but in the end, survival won. Slowly, he nodded.
"Fine," he said, authoritatively. His gaze locked on Eris and Stephan. "Then it is decided. Tomorrow, Yori and I will announce to the Council that you will take the Crimson Vow, proving your loyalty to the House of Dragov and the Firstbloods."
Eris opened her mouth to protest, breath catching in her throat, but Raphael lifted a hand.
"You are dismissed," he said, with finality.
Eris stood rigid, the words crashing over her like a second blow. Bound by duty she had not chosen. Bound by blood she could not escape. Her jaw clenched, swallowing the protest burning in her chest, because here, survival demanded silence.
Yori stepped forward, brushing her cheek with a whisper of comfort. "Go rest," he murmured. "Everything will be fine."
She hesitated. She did not believe him, but she nodded. The room felt too small, the walls too close, until a steady hand found hers. Stephan.
"Let’s go, Eris," he said.
She breathed, once, and followed.