Chapter 9: The Price of Bloodline
6313words
"After the Count escaped, all evidence was destroyed," Alexander said in a low voice, his eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings. "The royal family doesn't believe us, but they're willing to give us a chance. As long as we can find the Book of Fate, everything will become clear."
Elena didn't respond immediately. The crystal in her hand was emitting a faint blue light that gradually brightened with each step she took. Her fingertips gently brushed across the crystal's surface, feeling the energy flowing within. "It's right here," she finally spoke, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and unease, "I can feel its presence."
Suddenly, Elena's expression froze. The crystal's light flickered violently, and she abruptly looked up toward the top floor of the castle. "Be careful!" she shouted, simultaneously reinforcing the protective barriers around them.
Before her words faded, a powerful wave of dark red energy erupted from the castle's top floor, like a blood-colored lightning bolt tearing through the night sky. The entire building began to shake violently, stones falling from the ceiling, and the ancient pillars emitting ominous creaking sounds.
"What was that?" Alexander tightened his grip on the sword at his waist, silver light beginning to flow along the blade.
"It's the aura of the Book of Fate," Elena's voice trembled, "much more powerful than I imagined. The Count must have already initiated some kind of ritual."
Meanwhile, at the highest point of the castle tower, a dark ritual was underway. The Count stood in the center of a meticulously drawn array, his face marked with several new grotesque scars, his eyes flickering with nearly maniacal light. The Duke stood nearby, his expression serious and complex. Between them, an ancient spell book emanating an evil red glow floated in midair, its pages turning without any wind.
"I have fulfilled your requirements," the Count whispered to the void, his voice filled with fanatical reverence, "those two obstacles will soon be eliminated."
The Duke frowned and stepped forward. "Old friend, are you certain this is the only way?" his voice carried obvious concern.
The Earl turned to the Duke, his face showing impatience. "Don't you understand yet? Fate has chosen us!" His voice raised several decibels, "The Ancestral Power within that girl should rightfully belong to me!"
The pages of the magical book continued to turn, and with each page, another black rune lit up on the Earl's body, forming eerie patterns on his pale skin.
The Duke's expression grew more worried. "The undercurrents in the kingdom have been turbulent lately. If our operation fails..."
"It won't fail." The Earl interrupted without hesitation, "I have seen fate's guidance." He raised his hand, all the runes on his arm illuminating with an ominous red glow. "They have arrived."
Meanwhile, Alexander and Elena were racing up the stairs, advancing toward the top of the tower. Each time they passed a corner, traps were triggered behind them, unleashing various dangerous attacks. Alexander's sword was covered with a silver light, effortlessly cleaving through the obstacles before them.
"The Count must have borrowed some kind of powerful force," Elena said while running and casting red energy, "His power is much stronger than before!"
Alexander nodded, the silver light on his sword growing brighter. "Don't worry, we'll face it together," he said, while taking out a communication crystal from his pocket. "Victor, how's the situation outside the castle?"
Victor's urgent voice came through the crystal: "Not good! The Royal Guard is blocked outside, someone has set up a barrier around the castle. You may not be able to get any support!"
Elena suddenly stopped in her tracks, her face turning pale. "Wait! This energy fluctuation... something's wrong!" She looked up toward the end of the staircase, a flash of fear in her eyes, "It's a trap!"
No sooner had the words been spoken than an intense light suddenly erupted from the top of the tower, and the entire staircase began to collapse. Alexander grabbed Elena's hand, and the two desperately rushed forward along the crumbling edge as stone steps fell one after another into the darkness behind them.
Alexander and Elena violently burst through the oak doors at the top of the tower, sending splinters flying as energy ripples trembled through the air. The sight before them made them freeze instantly—the Count and Duke stood in the center of a massive array, with complex runes flickering with ominous light on the stone floor.
Elena's gaze, however, was drawn to something else. Between the two nobles, an ancient grimoire hovered in midair, emitting an evil red glow. Its pages turned by themselves without any wind, each one seeming to whisper ancient secrets. More disturbingly, the book appeared to have consciousness, "staring" directly at her with intent.
"Finally, you've come! Pawns of fate, your end is already determined!" The Count laughed maniacally, his voice echoing through the tower, the fresh scar on his face appearing particularly grotesque in the light.
Elena involuntarily stepped back, her voice trembling with fear: "That book...it's watching me!"
Alexander looked puzzledly in the direction of her gaze, but could only see distorted energy waves in the air: "What book? I don't see anything."
"So you still can't see it." Elena looked at Alexander with disappointment, then turned back toward the floating spellbook, "It's that red spellbook! Right between them!"
A flash of confusion crossed the Count's face: "Book? What book?" Then his lips curled into a smug smile, "It seems you're finally starting to hallucinate. The Ancestor's power has begun to erode your mind."
The Duke stepped forward, his voice calm and authoritative, golden light gathering at his fingertips: "Alexander Wester, you should never have been drawn into this game of fate. Now, it is time to end it."
The Count swung his hand violently, causing the formation to burst with blinding light, countless black chains surged up from the ground like living creatures, rushing toward the two. Alexander quickly drew his sword, silver light covering the blade as he cut through the first few chains that approached.
The top of the tower instantly became a battlefield. Alexander and the Duke engaged in an intense duel, silver and golden energy colliding in the air, creating dazzling sparks and deafening explosions. Alexander's swordsmanship was exquisite, each strike carried deadly precision, but the Duke's power was more seasoned, with decades of experience allowing him to easily anticipate his opponent's movements.
On the other side, Elena's battle with the Count was even more thrilling. Within her red energy, the distinctive purple light of the Progenitor's power occasionally flashed. Whenever this light appeared, a gleam of greed would flash in the Count's eyes. Elena's protection blocked wave after wave of black energy impacts, but she was clearly at a disadvantage, as the Count's power was much stronger than she remembered.
"Destiny is not yours to control!" Elena gritted her teeth as she resisted the increasing pressure. "I will never become your sacrifice!"
The Count's laughter was filled with fanaticism: "You're wrong! Destiny has already been determined! Your power will become part of mine!" He suddenly pulled out a black crystal flickering with ominous light from his robe. "This ancient crystal can completely absorb the Progenitor's power, and you will die!"
The Count raised the crystal high and chanted ancient spells. Black energy gathered around him, forming a thick beam that shot directly at Elena. At the critical moment, Alexander abandoned his confrontation with the Duke, leaping to stand in front of Elena. The black beam struck his left shoulder; the intense pain made him groan, but he remained standing firmly.
"Elena, no matter what happens, I will protect you!" Alexander's voice was hoarse with pain, but his gaze remained firm as iron.
Elena watched as Alexander took the lethal strike for her, tears glistening in her eyes: "Alexander..."
The energy shockwaves grew stronger and stronger. The top of the tower began to buckle under the strain, stones fell from the ceiling, and all the window glass shattered under the vibrations. The entire tower started to shake, as if it might collapse at any moment.
In the chaos, the Count's powerful attack struck the tower's main pillar, causing the entire platform to tilt dangerously. Debris and dust fell from the ceiling, and spider web-like cracks appeared on the floor.
"Fate has made its choice! You cannot escape!" The Count stood on the shaking floor, his face bearing a maniacal smile, as if the impending destruction had nothing to do with him.
The Duke seized the opportunity, unleashing a powerful beam of golden energy that precisely struck Alexander's head. Alexander let out a muffled groan and staggered backward, blood flowing from the wound on his forehead, blurring his vision. Elena rushed forward to support him, but both were now backed against the edge of the tower.
"Alexander! Hold on!" Elena cried out in terror, trying to steady Alexander while searching for an escape route.
Alexander's consciousness began to blur, he could feel warm blood flowing down his cheek. With difficulty, he raised his hand and gripped Elena tightly: "E...lena...hold...on to me..."
At that moment, the stones at the edge of the tower could no longer withstand the pressure and collapsed with a thunderous sound. Elena and Alexander lost their footing and, amidst the Count's maniacal laughter, both plunged together into the dark abyss below.
The edge of the tower emitted a blood-curdling cracking sound, like the dying wail of a giant beast. Elena only had time to grab Alexander's hand before both fell along with the collapsing stones into the bottomless dark ravine. The Count's maniacal laughter echoed in their ears, growing more distant until it was drowned out by the howling wind.
Moonlight draped over the wreckage at the bottom of the cliff like a silver veil. Among the rubble, broken wood, and dust, Alexander and Elena lay silently like shattered dolls. Alexander's head injury was the most severe, with blood already congealed in his golden hair, forming dark red clumps. Strangely, in the moonlight, faint red energy threads entwined around his wounds, like the emblem of some ancient power, pulsating in the darkness. This was the energy of the Book of Fate, quietly seeping into the depths of his consciousness, though in his unconscious state, he remained completely unaware of it.
Elena's condition was slightly better. Her pale skin was covered with abrasions and cuts, but each wound emitted a faint purple light. The Ancestral Power flowed within her like a guardian angel, repairing damaged blood vessels and bones. Her breathing was weak but steady, as if she were sleeping in a dream from which she could not be awakened.
Several hours later, the night had grown deep. Alexander's eyelids fluttered a few times before finally opening. The intense headache made him let out a low groan. He struggled to prop himself up, feeling every muscle protest. In the moonlight, he saw Elena not far away, her face looking particularly pale in the moonlight.
"Elena..." Alexander's throat was dry, his voice so hoarse it hardly sounded like his own, "Wake up... we must leave this place..."
He crawled to Elena's side, gently shaking her shoulders, but she showed no response. Alexander placed his fingers on the side of her neck, feeling a weak but steady pulse, which gave him some relief. In the distance, the glow of torches could be faintly seen on the cliff, accompanied by muffled shouts and dog barks. The Count's men were searching for them.
Alexander knew they didn't have much time. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain in his own body, and carefully lifted Elena onto his back. Her weight made him stumble for a moment, but he steadied himself.
"Hold on, Elena," he whispered, "I won't let them find us."
Alexander began moving forward along the rugged cliff bottom, each step a test of willpower. His vision alternated between blurry and clear, with the wound on his head throbbing dully. What he didn't know was that the red energy was gathering at his wound, seeping into his thoughts like a spider's web.
The night provided them cover, but also increased the difficulty of moving forward. Alexander chose a direction away from the search parties, venturing deeper into the denser forest. His intuition told him they must find a safe place quickly, or they would all face danger.
However, fate seemed to have other plans.
Days later, Elena woke up in bone-chilling cold. She found herself locked in a specially made cage, surrounded by runes that emitted energy-suppressing light. Her energy had been almost completely drained, making it difficult to even lift a finger. What terrified her more was discovering that she was bound to a stone altar, with ancient runes flickering with ominous light on the surface.
"Where... is this?" she asked weakly, her voice barely audible.
From the darkness, a familiar voice sounded, filled with triumphant joy: "Welcome back, Elena Bright. Thanks to your faithful knight for returning you to me."
The Count stepped slowly out of the shadows, his face bearing a twisted smile, his golden eyes gleaming with greed in the dim light.
Elena's heart nearly stopped: "What? Alexander? Impossible!"
The Count moved aside to make way, and Alexander walked into the light. He wore black armor, his posture as straight as ever, but those eyes that were once full of warmth now appeared hollow like a bottomless abyss. The wound on his forehead had scabbed over, but it glowed with an unnatural red light around it, like some kind of evil mark.
"My Lord Count, everything is ready." Alexander's voice was ice-cold and mechanical, devoid of emotion.
Elena felt a heart-wrenching pain, more unbearable than any physical injury. Tears uncontrollably slid from the corners of her eyes: "No... Alexander... this isn't you!"
The Count walked to the edge of the altar, looking down at her with a smug smile on his face: "Do you see? The person you trusted most is now my most faithful servant. He brought you back from the cliff bottom... how loyal indeed."
"What have you done to him?!" Elena roared, trying to break free from her restraints, but the chains only wrapped tighter around her wrists, burning her skin.
The Count laughed contemptuously: "I did nothing. The wound on his head became the perfect entry point, making his mind... more susceptible to control." He leaned down, almost touching Elena's ear, "Now, you will experience true suffering."
Elena turned to Alexander, her eyes full of desperate pleading: "Alexander... please... wake up..."
But Alexander just stared blankly ahead, as if her voice couldn't penetrate the barrier controlling his mind.
The Count pulled out a dagger glowing with black energy from his robe, its blade covered in ancient runes: "He can't hear your voice anymore. Now, let's continue our little game."
Elena tried to turn her head away, but the chains firmly held her head in place. When the Count's dagger made the first cut on her face, she clenched her teeth, refusing to scream, not wanting to give him satisfaction. But as the dagger fell again and again, with black energy seeping into the wounds preventing them from healing, her willpower finally collapsed.
Screams of agony echoed off the stone walls of the dungeon, but Alexander remained expressionless as he stood nearby, like a soulless statue.
When the Count finally stopped, Elena's beautiful face was covered with intersecting scars. The Count stepped back with satisfaction, admiring his "masterpiece": "Perfect. Now your exterior is as ugly as your interior." He turned to the guards, "Throw her into the maid's quarters. Starting tomorrow, she will serve us as the lowest of servants."
The guards roughly unlocked the chains and dragged Elena away, who had almost no ability to resist. As they passed by Alexander, Elena looked at him one last time, hoping to find even a glimmer of familiar light in those empty eyes.
But she saw nothing.
As she was being dragged away, Elena's consciousness began to blur. However, deep within her, the power of the Ancestor still flickered weakly. Perhaps, this was not the end. Perhaps, there were still unturned pages in the book of fate.
In the dim dungeon, the light from torches cast twisted shadows on the damp stone walls. Elena was bound to an ancient oak rack with rough iron chains, her wrists and ankles already bleeding from the abrasion. The air in the dungeon was filled with an ancient and evil aura, the trace of dark powers accumulated over a long time.
The Count walked slowly from the depths of the dungeon, his tall figure appearing even more terrifying in the firelight. In his hand, he held an ancient dagger, its blade flickering with ominous black runes that seemed to writhe in the darkness as if they were alive. Alexander stood nearby, his once vibrant eyes now hollow as deep wells, the wound on his forehead scabbed over, surrounded by an eerie red glow.
"Your beauty always reminds me of your unfaithful mother." The Count's voice slithered across the floor like a cold serpent as he lifted Elena's chin, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. "Tonight, I will destroy this face with my own hands."
Elena struggled desperately, the chains making a harsh clanking sound, which only tore her wounds open further. "You monster!" she spat, her voice trembling with fear yet still filled with anger, "My mother was always loyal to you!"
The Count's laughter echoed through the dungeon, without a trace of warmth in it. "Loyal?" A flash of madness crossed his eyes, "She betrayed me, just as you betrayed the entire family!" He raised the dagger high, black energy flowing along the blade like liquid darkness, "Let's see what remains of you without this beautiful face, shall we?"
The dagger slowly moved across Elena's face, from her forehead down to her chin, leaving a deep wound. Black energy seeped into the wound, preventing it from healing naturally while causing an unbearable burning sensation. Elena let out a heart-wrenching scream, a sound that could break anyone's heart, but Alexander remained standing there, expressionless, as if Elena's pain had nothing to do with him.
"Alexander..." Elena struggled to look at her former knight through her pain, tears mixing with blood flowing down her face, "Please... wake up..."
A flash of confusion seemed to pass through Alexander's eyes, but was quickly covered by an eerie red light, and his expression became cold and empty once again.
The Count stepped back with satisfaction, admiring his "masterpiece." "Perfect." His voice was filled with twisted joy, "This scar will forever remind you of the price for betraying me." He turned to the guards, "Throw her into the maid's quarters. Starting tomorrow, she will serve us as the lowest of servants."
The guards roughly unfastened Elena's restraints, and her weakened body collapsed onto the cold floor. As they dragged her through the dark hallways, Elena felt a strange warmth flowing within her, but she was too weak to understand what it meant.
The next morning, pale sunlight streamed through the dirty small window of the maid's quarters. Elena lay on a pile of tattered straw in the corner, the wounds on her face had scabbed over, but left a terrible scar stretching from her forehead all the way to her chin, splitting what was once her beautiful face in two. The other maids stood at a distance, looking at her with fear and disgust in their eyes, none daring to come near.
The head maid walked into the room, her tall figure blocking the faint sunlight. "Get up!" she commanded coldly, with obvious mockery in her voice, "The Count said that from today on you are the lowest among us. Your job is to clean the stables and remove the manure."
Elena weakly propped herself up, a strange red light flashed in her eyes, a light identical to the glow surrounding the wound on Alexander's forehead. "It's..." her voice was barely audible, but it contained a strange power.
The head maid didn't notice this detail and continued to mock her: "Look at you, once a noble young countess, now lower than even the ugliest pig." She took out a tattered gray garment from behind her, stained with filth and blood, and tossed it carelessly toward Elena, "Put this on, and don't let us see your disgusting face!"
Elena silently accepted the clothes, faint red energy flickered between her fingers, like blood flowing beneath her skin, but this anomaly quickly disappeared. She changed into the tattered garment and covered her face with a dirty cloth, leaving only her eyes exposed.
The stable was filled with pungent odors as Elena bent over, using a rusty iron shovel to clean up horse manure. Her hands were already covered with blisters and wounds, but she didn't stop to rest. The scar beneath her veil throbbed with pain, a mark left by the Count's dark power, an indelible symbol of shame.
Suddenly, the stable door was pushed open, and Alexander walked in. He was wearing full knight's armor, but his eyes remained vacant. Elena looked up at him, hoping to find a glimmer of recognition in those familiar eyes. However, Alexander walked past her as if she were invisible, as though she were nothing but a transparent ghost.
"Alexander..." Elena called softly, her voice filled with longing, "There must be a way to restore your memory..."
In that instant, Alexander's footsteps seemed to pause briefly, a hint of confusion flashing across his eyes, as if touched by some distant memory. But quickly, that trace of confusion was covered by an eerie red light, and he continued walking forward, his silhouette cold and unfamiliar.
Elena watched Alexander's retreating figure, her hands gripping the shovel tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Deep within her blood, an ancient and powerful force was awakening, a heritage she had never been aware of, an instinct long suppressed. Beneath her scars, she was silently transforming.
Heavy footsteps came from the stable door, and Elena's heart sank. She immediately lowered her head, her hands tightly gripping the filthy shovel, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. The Count's tall figure blocked the light at the doorway, his black robe swaying gently in the breeze, the silver rune trimmings along the hem glinting coldly in the sunlight.
"Look at yourself now, Elena." The Count's voice was as piercing as ice, with a cruel smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. "From the high and mighty daughter of the Count, reduced to a servant cleaning horse manure. Fate can be quite humorous sometimes."
Elena felt a sharp pain in her chest, but she only lowered her head further, her voice barely audible: "My Lord Count..."
The Count approached with elegant strides, each step making Elena's heart beat faster. The dark aura emanating from him made the air heavy, causing the animals in the stable to stir restlessly. He stopped in front of Elena, standing at a suffocatingly close distance.
"We have guests visiting tonight," he announced, with a chilling pleasure in his voice, "You will serve tea and water for us. I want everyone to see the consequences of defying me."
He extended his hand, his slender fingers trailing a wisp of black energy smoke, and lifted Elena's chin, forcing her to look directly at him. The touch was as repulsive as a venomous snake, but Elena dared not avoid it. The Count's gaze lingered on the scar on her face, that horrific mark extending from her forehead to her chin stood out starkly against her pale skin.
"What a pity for such a face..." the Count sighed with false sympathy, while his eyes flickered with satisfied light.
Elena endured his touch, her throat tightening with fear and anger: "Yes, my lord Count."
The Count released her, wiping his fingers as if he had just touched something filthy. "Behave well, and perhaps I'll consider making you my personal maid..." he stepped back, looking her up and down, "although you're now disgustingly ugly."
The Count turned and left, his black robe billowing behind him like the tide of dark night. Light returned to the stable, but Elena's heart grew even darker.
When she was certain the Count had gone far enough, a dangerous red glint flashed in Elena's eyes, like the rising blood moon. Her hand tightly gripped a stone, as the dormant power within her surged slightly through her veins. The stone made a faint cracking sound in her hand, then suddenly crumbled, turning to dust that fell through her fingers. She took a deep breath, suppressing the power churning within her.
"Not yet," she whispered to herself, "not yet..."
Isabella's room was bathed in afternoon sunlight, the luxurious velvet curtains drawn back to let the golden light flood the entire space. Isabella sat at her pearl-inlaid dressing table, surrounded by three maids busy at work, preparing her for the important occasion that was about to come.
She was surrounded by a soft white energy glow, appearing pure and flawless. However, if one could observe carefully, they would notice in the depths of those blue eyes praised by many, flashed a barely perceptible coldness, like dark currents beneath winter ice.
"Miss, you look absolutely beautiful today," a maid praised, her silver comb gently brushing through Isabella's waterfall-like golden hair, "The Duke's son will surely be enchanted by you."
Isabella's lips curled slightly upward, but quickly changed to a worried expression. She paused the application of nail protector and asked softly: "Sister Elena... is she well? I heard she..."
"Miss need not worry about someone like her," another older maid immediately interrupted, with disdain in her voice, "She betrayed the family and received the punishment she deserved."
Just at that moment, the door was gently pushed open. Elena entered carrying a silver basin in both hands. Her steps were cautious and heavy, and she wore coarse gray linen clothes, forming a stark contrast with the luxury of the room.
When Isabella saw her, a barely noticeable flash of smugness crossed her eyes, but she quickly assumed a surprised expression as she stood up, her white silk dress flowing like water behind her.
"Sister Elena? Is it really you?" Her voice was filled with feigned concern.
Elena kept her head down, not looking directly at her former sister, now her mistress: "It's me, Miss. I've brought water for you to wash your face."
Isabella walked slowly toward her, each step as graceful as if she were dancing. She reached out her hand, pretending to sympathetically touch Elena's cheek: "Let me look at you..."
Elena instinctively stepped back, the water in the basin rippling slightly: "Please don't, my lady. This ugly face would frighten you."
Isabella withdrew her hand, a carefully crafted expression of sorrow appearing on her face: "I heard father did to you... I'm sorry, sister. I will ask him to forgive you."
A cold smile appeared at the corner of Elena's mouth, the scar on her face twitching slightly: "The young lady is too kind. Don't worry about me."
Isabella reached out to touch Elena's hand, her fingertips glimmering with white light, pretending to attempt to channel healing energy. However, when the light made contact with Elena's skin, a barrier of black energy appeared, blocking the healing attempt.
"My power... cannot heal you?" Isabella feigned surprise with widened eyes, but Elena could see that she had known the result all along.
"The Count's power is extremely formidable," Elena replied in a low voice, with a hint of sarcasm she hoped Isabella wouldn't detect, "My lady, tomorrow is your engagement ceremony, you should focus on your own happiness."
Isabella turned and walked back to her dressing table, and in a moment when the maids couldn't see, a barely noticeable smug smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. That smile, like a snake flicking its tongue, vanished in an instant.
Elena placed the water basin on a nearby table, silently watching the young woman she once regarded as a sister. In her heart, she whispered: "What malice lies hidden beneath that hypocritical mask of yours..."
Deep in her eyes, that red glow flashed again, like burning embers, waiting for the moment to be ignited.
"But sister..." Isabella's voice was filled with sorrow, her blue eyes seemingly glistening with tears, gentle white energy light danced around her body, like the first ray of sunlight in the morning.
However, as she turned around, a barely noticeable smirk appeared on her delicate face, like the flash of a blade in darkness, fleeting yet unmistakably sharp.
Elena stood still, the cheeks beneath her veil burning with anger. Her heart churned with unspeakable pain: what kind of malice hides beneath that hypocritical mask of yours... Those eyes I once trusted can now only see the truth of betrayal.
As night fell, the ballroom of the Count's manor gleamed brilliantly under the illumination of countless crystal lamps. Ancient patterns flowed across the walls like golden rivers, reflecting off the guests' magnificent attire. The air was filled with the scent of expensive spices, intertwined with undercurrents of power and ambition.
The Count and the Duke stood at the center of the hall, raising their glasses in celebration. The Duke was a burly middle-aged man whose sharp eyes concealed a mind skilled in calculation. He lifted high his ruby-encrusted silver cup, announcing in a resonant voice: "To the union of our two families, to the happiness of my son and Isabella!"
The crisp sound of crystal glasses clinking echoed throughout the hall. The Count's lips curled into a self-satisfied smile, his black formal attire embroidered with the Wester family crest that gleamed with an ominous light in the candlelight. "This is the arrangement of fate. Our family will grow stronger because of this!"
Elena wore a veil, keeping her head low as she moved through the ballroom, serving tea and water to guests. The once-familiar nobles ignored her, as if she were merely a moving shadow. Her fingers gripped the silver pitcher tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.
When she approached the Count to pour his drink, he suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist. His fingers were as cold as steel, and the aura of dark energy seeped from his skin into hers, causing Elena to feel a sharp pain.
"Do you see it?" The count lowered his voice, each word cutting like a knife. "Isabella has received everything that should have belonged to you. And you, you're only fit to be an ugly servant."
Elena felt a burning pain in her chest, but she suppressed her anger, her voice as calm as still water: "Yes, my lord Count."
The count released her wrist, a glimmer of satisfaction flashing in his eyes. "After tonight, come to my study. I have something to tell you."
Elena nodded slightly and continued with her work. Her gaze inadvertently swept across the corner of the ballroom, where Alexander was standing, his handsome features looking particularly profound in the candlelight. He wore the duke family's signature blue formal attire, with an ornately decorated sword at his waist.
His gaze would occasionally follow her, but there was only a vague confusion in his eyes, without any sign of recognition. Elena felt her heart being squeezed by an invisible hand—he had once sworn he would always recognize her, no matter what form she took. Now, that oath, like her former identity, had been mercilessly crushed by fate.
The night deepened, and the manor gradually grew quiet. Elena stood before the door of the Count's study, took a deep breath, and gently knocked on the heavy oak door.
"Come in." The Count's deep voice came from within.
In the study, ancient candelabras lit up automatically, casting flickering shadows. The walls were covered with portraits of generations of Wester family members, their eyes seeming to watch this veiled woman. The air was filled with the scent of parchment and ink, mixed with the aroma of some mysterious herbs.
The Count sat behind his desk, an ancient family tree open before him. The book emitted a faint glow, and the ink on its pages seemed to flow slowly, as if alive.
"Do you know why I hate you so much, Elena?" the Count pondered, his fingers gently stroking the pages of the family tree.
Elena stood in the center of the study, silent. She felt something awakening within her, a long-suppressed power trembling slightly in her blood.
"Because you are not my daughter," the Count's voice carried a barely perceptible bitterness.
These words split Elena's world like lightning. "What?" she asked in shock, her voice trembling with surprise.
The Count stood up, his shadow stretched across the wall, like a huge black monster. "Your mother had a relationship with a mysterious traveler before she married me. By the time I discovered this secret, it was already too late." He pointed to the family tree, where the bloodline next to a certain name glowed with an unusual red light, "The blood flowing through your veins is not that of the Wester family, but a lineage that is ancient and powerful."
Elena felt dizzy, her entire identity collapsing in that moment. "But... why have you always treated me as your legitimate daughter?" she asked in confusion, her voice barely squeezing out from the depths of her throat.
The Count let out a cold laugh, a calculating gleam flashing in his eyes. "Political necessity. I needed a legitimate daughter to complete the marriage alliance with the Duke's family. But when Isabella approached me with the idea of destroying your and your mother's reputation, I realized she was more suitable for that role, and you... became redundant."
"Isabella? Is it her...?" Elena felt suffocating, the sister she once trusted most turned out to be the instigator of her tragedy.
"Indeed, your seemingly kind sister even suggested I marry you off to the butcher." The Count watched Elena's reaction with satisfaction, "She's much smarter than I imagined."
Elena's world completely collapsed at that moment, all trust, love, and hope turned to ashes. She felt the mysterious power within her gradually strengthening, like a volcano about to erupt, waiting to break through the dark shackles and welcome the moment of truth and revenge.
A flash of unnatural red light passed through Elena's eyes, glowing like ancient flames burning deep in her pupils. Her voice trembled with unbelievable pain: "So my mother..."
The Count swiftly interrupted her, as if unwilling to let her speak the terrible truth. His voice was cold and calm, as if discussing a trivial matter: "She knew I had discovered the truth, so she had to die." His gaze became focused, examining Elena with a kind of greedy expression, "And you, possess the ability to see things that we cannot. This is a rare gift."
Elena felt dizzy, the memories of the past eighteen years reassembling like fragments in her mind. Those cold stares, deliberate distance, endless criticism—everything made sense now. Her voice was barely audible: "So you never truly loved me...or my mother."
The Earl approached her, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the candlelight, like a dark entity about to devour her. His lips twisted into a contemptuous smile: "Love? That's an emotion for the weak. I only care about power." His voice lowered, with a dangerous intimacy, "The power within you is a key part of my plan." The Earl extended his hand, his bony fingers touching her cheek, like a cold snake sliding across her skin, "Pity... you chose to resist."
Elena instinctively pulled away, her body trembling with fear and anger, but her voice was remarkably steady: "I will never help you."
The Count's laughter echoed through the study, his voice carrying centuries of dark wisdom and unshakable confidence: "Do you think you have a choice?" He walked to the window, pointing toward the moon growing fuller in the sky, "In a few nights, on the full moon, I will conduct a special ritual. Your blood will be the key, and I will become the new master of power."
Elena stepped back in shock, her heart pounding like a drum. The ancient runes on the family tree, which she had never understood, seemed to whisper secrets to her in this moment. She felt a strange warmth spreading from her heart to her fingertips, and as her emotions fluctuated, a faint red light flickered between her fingers, like smoldering embers.
The Count's gaze locked onto that faint light, his eyes flashing with surprise and greed: "Your power is returning? Interesting." He said softly, as if admiring a precious work of art, "It seems that even my dark powers cannot suppress it permanently." His smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth that gleamed with an unsettling light in the candlelight, "But it doesn't matter, you cannot escape. Alexander will ensure that."
Elena felt a chill crawling up her spine. She looked down at her fingers, the red glow had disappeared, but she could feel something awakening inside her, like a beast that had finally opened its eyes after eighteen years of slumber. She didn't know what this power meant, nor did she know her true origins, but one thing she was certain of—she must escape this place before the night of the full moon arrives, otherwise she would become a sacrifice in the Count's dark ritual.
