Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 87: The Crimson Vale

Moodbang and I are wondering through the Crimson Vale, a desolate expanse under a sky streaked with scarlet clouds, It’s been three weeks since we left the tower as swirling clouds of crimson mist, drifting past oblivion winged demons flying overhead. This hellish, fiery realm, ruled by the Fontaine clan, stretches endlessly before us beneath a blood red sun.

Bloodbane assures me we’re nearing the Blood Scribe’s sanctuary. We mostly travel in our incorporeal blood mist forms, soaring just high enough to skim over the flickering flames below, yet low enough to avoid the larger demons patrolling the blood–red heavens

“These demons wouldn’t stand a chance against us, Arianna, hud best not to draw attention until you’ve mastered your new abilities, Bloodbane advises as we make camp on a sheltered Blackstone outcrop, high above the hungry flames below. The air is thick and hot, making even the stone beneath us warm to the bich.

Tonight, like every night, we practice. I’ve been learning to shape my blood into deadly weapons. “Now, let’s focus on forming a blood whip, Bloodhane instructs, his voice echoing slightly off the dark stone,

I concentrate, feeling the familiar rush of power as i manipulate my blood, Under Bloodhane’s guidance, I draw the blood from my body, extending it into a long, thin red whip that glistens darkly against the fiery sky. The process is exhilarating–feeling the blood solidify and stretch at my command is both empowering and deeply terrifying

“Excellent,” Bloodbane nods. “Remember, the whip is flexible, quick. It’s ideal for disarmament or entanglement. I But it requires precision and control.”

1 flick the whip, and it cracks louilly, slicing through the air. “What about something heavier? More… destructive?”

“Ah, for that, you’ll want a bottle axe or a spear. Here, let me show you.” Bloodhone steps hack as I focus again. This time, I imagine my thickening, hardening into the shape of an axe. It forms slowly, the head of the axe taking shape, edged and deadly.

blood

“The axe is brute force, good against shichts or breaking through armor,” Bloodbane explains as I test the weight of my new creation. “But it’s slower, requires strength and momentum.”

Next, I form a spear, long and slender, perfect for distance. “And the spear,” he continues, “is for reach and precision, excellent for keeping enemies at bay.”

As I practice, shifting my blood weapon from one form to another, Bloodbane discusses each weapon’s strengths and weaknesses. “Your al

abilities give

you versatility. Adapt your weapon to your opponent.”

We also work on a shield, my blood hardening into a broad, impenetrable surface. “This,” he says, tapping the shield lightly, “could stop almost any physical attack. It’s stronger than any metal forged in mortal realms.”

The glistening edge of the blood shield gleaming in the light cast from distant flames gives me an idea. Ever since I underwent the transformation from mortal human to Bloodwraith, the only physical change that I’ve been able to see with my own eyes, is the lengthening and slight sharpening of my fingernails. Over the past few weeks they’ve gradually darkened and grown redder, until their current state – a deep wine red, as if I’m wearing the world’s best permanent nail polish. My skin niso looks much paler – my lovely golden California tan is gone, replaced with a very light skin tone more like Bloodbane’s very fair complexion. My hair is still long and blond – unlike Bloodbane’s long crimson red hair and my height and weight doesn’t seem to have changed, even though I feel a thousand times stronger and swifter.

This is what I’ve observed by studying my arms, legs, torso etc – but I haven’t been able to look at my own face yet, because I haven’t had a mirror,

until now

“I’m going to try something else,” I say, the idea taking root in my mind. I extend my hand, palm up, focusing on the swirling power within me. I imagine drawing a small amount of my blood, not to form a weapon or shield, but something entirely different. I think of clarity, reflection, the smoothness of glass.

The blood rises from my palm in a thin stream, shimmering in the dying light. I shape it deliberately, my mind’s eye picturing a flat, smooth surface. The blood obliges, spreading into a circular form, floating before me, connected by a slender thread of red–a lifeline between it and me. It stabilizes into a perfect, shimmering dish: a mirror made of my own essence.

Bloodbane watches silently.

As the blood mirror stabilizes in the air, I step closer, eager to see my reflection. The surface of the mirror is smooth and flawless, casting back my image with surprising clarity. I stare at myself, taking in the changes,

Chapter 87 The Crimson Vale

Oh my god. Is that really me?

My face looks pale, but it’s a healthy, ethereal paleness, fair and bright like porcelain lit by the soft glow of twilight, what people sometimes refer to as a peaches and cream complexion. My lips are tinted a subtle red, as if kissed by a drop of wine, and my cheeks hold a natural rosy flush that gives life to my otherwise stark appearance. But it’s the streak in my hair that catches my attention–a vivid scarlet line running from my scalp to the tips, stark against my golden blonde locks, a bit like a witch’s mark.

Most striking of all are my eyes. Gone are the pale green irises I used to find staring back at me in the bathroom mirror after a long day at the beach. In their place are eyes the color of rubies, glowing with an inner fire, vibrant and full of untold power.

I’m mesmerized by the reflection. The changes are startling, yes, but as I continue to gaze at myself, a sense of awe replaces the initial shock. The transformation, though extreme, suits me in ways I never anticipated. I realize that I had never truly appreciated my features before–always chasing after sun–kissed skin from hours of surfing with my friends, never realizing how my natural complexion could hold such a ghostly, enchanting beauty.

“This is what I look like now?” I whisper, more to myself than to Bloodbane.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice a soft murmur behind me. “It is uncommon for Bloodwraiths to use their power to see themselves. But self–perception is Important. You are embracing what you have become, not just the power it brings but the beauty of it too.”

“Um, thanks, I guess,” I say awkwardly.

With a thought, I dissolve the mirror, the blood returning to me along the thin red thread, absorbed back into my body.

As night deepens, our training session becomes more relaxed, almost playful. Bloodbane’s usually stern demeanor gives way to an irreverent humor, something 1 catch brief glimpses of from time to time. “Just think, Arianna, you’re now one of the few beings in any realm who can literally say they’ve got killer blood!”

I can’t help but laugh, the sound sharp and sudden in the quiet of the night. “Yeah, who needs a sword when you can literally pull one out of your veins?”

But as we settle down, the laughter fades, and the reality of my situation settles in. Here I am, learning to forge weapons from my own blood, a skill I couldn’t have fathomed needing just a few short weeks ago. My life has changed irreversibly, and the weight of that realization is both terrifying and awe–inspiring.

Bloodbane seems to sense my shift in mood. “It’s a lot to take in,” he says quietly. “But this is a gift, far greater than anything most could ever dream

Another odd change I’ve noticed is that I no longer need food or water. It’s a peculiar sensation–or lack thereof to not feel hunger or thirst. I’m alive, undeniably mortal in some sense, yet I carry a semblance of invincibility. Every typical human frailty seems to have vanished, leaving behind a form that’s robust, maybe almost indestructible. Yet, despite this newfound resilience, I realize I’m not devoid of vulnerabilities. The greatest weakness

remains–love.

As the fire crackles softly in the background, its glow battling the encroaching darkness of the night, my thoughts drift to Aleksandr.

As I look out over the vale bathed in the glow of fire lakes, I can’t help but wonder what Aleksandr will think when he sees what I’ve become. Will he see the monster I fear I am becoming, or will be just be glad to see me alive, no matter the changes?

Only time will tell

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FI

He said it was several days travel, but she just said they’ve been traveling for sev