Chapter 63 Beyond BloodVow
Beyond Blood or Vow
Caramyn
Caramyn woke to Asterious looming over her, swaying weakly, his eyes pained and depleted.
She bolted upright at the worrisome sight of him and the steady snaps of flames that sounded too close to ignore.
She glanced down to where there was once a deep wound and the feeling of blood pooling in her lungs, but now there was only a scarlet stain on freshly healed skin, and a deep, steady breath in her chest. She winced from the sudden sting of a fresh wound on her palm.
She reached for Asterious, the marks of agony across his face now turned to those of relief. But then, the light in those silver-grey eyes dimmed as he fell forward into her arms.
The lifeless prince draped across her lap, heavy in her arms, as flames lapped at every corner.
And there was Brenn in the midst of it all, somehow.
She thought she had heard his voice earlier as she slipped in and out of consciousness.
And now, that same voice was desperate, as he stood yelling to the blackened sky as Shadows swarmed like flocking birds.
“What’s happening, Brenn?” Her voice quivered.
“I…I tried to heal you. The prince begged me to save you. But I fear what I may have done.”
“What?” Something like unfettered rage stirred beneath Caramyn’s skin, like she might explode any minute, and nothing could stop it. Like every small, unwelcome sound, or a single wrong word from Brenn, could release the fury building in her bones. “So you killed him…to save me?”
A strange, untamed strength took hold from somewhere within and worked its way outwards, like a fire igniting with nowhere to go.
Black fire tinged with purple hues snaked its way down her arms and settled into burning orbs of black and violet flames in each hand.
Behind her, flaming raven wings of blackfire unfurled, casting shadows that writhed like living smoke.
And every move, every breath, every thought, was driven by one thing—desire for vengeance upon the man who’d taken Asterious from her.
Her heart and hands ablaze with raw, unstoppable power, Caramyn lunged toward Brenn, feeling herself becoming something she didn’t recognize. And it was only the sound of her name that stopped her.
“Caramyn.”
She whirled around at the sound of Asterious’ voice, her flaming wings folding, the amethyst flames still coiling up her wrists.
“You’re alive?” She whispered.
Asterious nodded, his voice like low, calm thunder. “I’m still here.”
She glanced back at Brenn, who still grasped at the sides of his head, shielding himself from her wrath. And suddenly, she realized how close she’d come to scorching him to death. “I’m…I’m sorry, Brenn. I didn’t mean to…I don’t know what happened to—”
“I think I do,” Asterious said quietly, pain cutting through his composure.
“And if I’m right, I’ll beg your forgiveness until my last breath, Caramyn.
Because this is something I never meant for you to carry.
” He lifted his shirt to reveal the silvery-black veins of the Blackheart curse—still there, but utterly transformed.
No longer did they consume his entire torso, no longer did they claw inward toward his heart.
Now they originated from a single point at the center of his spine, branching outward and up, jagged, wing-like veins blooming outward across the left half of his back and chest, as though reaching for something beyond his own body.
The markings flowed down his left arm to his fingertips, no longer crawling towards his heart, but yearning outward.
“You hold the balance. You took half of my darkness, and half of my Light.”
Caramyn stared at him, then looked down at her own arm, the realization creeping in like the black veins that now covered it completely, her Shadowblood marking still there in the hollow of her elbow, but now woven into a new pattern that sprouted from a defined point rooted at the center of her spine.
Crackling branches unfurled like twin wings, each arcing toward the other across her back and ribs, never quite touching.
A pattern that mirrored Asterious’ perfectly, and if they stood skin bare, side by side, it would’ve formed a symmetrical union of the black shimmering lines that met at the fanning tips.
Caramyn studied the flames in her hands, and the way they pulsed in time with her breath.
Of course. A curse that preyed on deepest fears and emotion would not manifest the same way twice.
Asterious’ Blackheart was the wolf—strength, fortitude, endurance.
Hers had become fire—survival, will, transformation. Something untamable.
She’d almost lost herself to it. And combined with the innate power of Shadow she carried in her blood, she shuddered to imagine how strong it could be.
I’m not a monster.
“A Blackheart?” Brenn shouted at Asterious, staggering between them.
“I thought that was a myth.” He stooped and grabbed the broken blade used to complete the spell and hurled it into the raging fire with a hoarse cry.
“And yet you fractured it. Split a singular, deadly curse in two. That shouldn’t be possible.
There’s no explanation for any of this unless—” He froze, something like horror dawning in his eyes.
“Unless the curse recognized her as bound to you beyond blood or vow.”
“Unless…she is my mate.” Asterious looked at Caramyn through tear stains dried beneath blood and cinder, confirming the bond she’d felt—that she’d seen—between them.
This prince who had once been no more than a stranger trespassing in these Woods, so fierce, regal, strong, and unshakeable, now stood before her in tattered, bruised, and broken, stripped of any armor but the truth.
“The Blackheart no longer seeks a heart to claim. It reaches across us now—toward each other. And that means it will never stop reaching.”
Caramyn noticed something like torment claiming his movements. Something like regret, uncertainty, and fear most of all. In his eyes, she saw everything she’d carried alone for years. Rage, grief, defiance, shame, and the ache of surviving when the world had demanded she break.
Did he know? Had he understood what it would mean when he’d asked Brenn to save her? How could he have known? If he had been dying, she would have done the same. Without hesitation. To watch one’s mate die would bring the kind of desperation that made one, well, reckless.
Her heart had already been darkened by the world. The Blackheart had simply lit that dark heart afire. Not to destroy her, but to free her. To free both of them. To shape the pain into something purposeful. Something good.
She folded her wings behind her back. They vanished into smoke, and the violet flames died with them.
The fire raging around them went up in a violent burst toward the sky before extinguishing, as if commanded by the same flames within her, leaving behind nothing but smoking tendrils and charred branches.
“I have nothing to forgive you for.” Caramyn reached for the prince’s cut hand. She pressed her palm to his and interlocked their fingers, mingling their blood. “I do not fear carrying darkness. We’ve been doing it all our lives. To carry it alone is the real curse. And we are no longer alone.”
Asterious leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands. “I don’t deserve to stand in your shadow, let alone at your side.”
Caramyn faintly smiled at him, but something ominous swept over her as she stared at the rippling Veil in silence.
It’s abyss groaned and writhed as if beckoning her one last time, in either warning or in welcome, and it bothered her that she could not tell which.
For a moment, she wondered what awaited beyond the great tree at its gate, and what it might’ve meant that the Veil had begun to split open as she was dying.
Asterious’ voice pulled her from her spiral.
“We’ll be back soon enough,” he promised quietly. “But the road home calls us now.”
“Yes,” she sighed, a breath of relief as she flicked her gaze back to his face. “It does.”