Page 178 of Haunted Crowns
Her blood turned to ash. She looked to Kareon, and he, broken and bloodied, looked back. His eyes trembled with something sacred.
They could have a child, a future born of their love, a bond made eternal. He had never dared dream of such a fate. But now that the vision had taken root, he ached for it.
Eris remained silent, her heart shattering beneath the weight of it. Not because it was not beautiful, but because the image bloomed too easily—Kareon’s hands on her belly, his voice soft in the dark, their child born beneath a blood moon. And Stephan, alone, forgotten, undone. Stephan, who had bled for her. Who had lived for nothing but her.
She could never do that to him.
The thought of carrying Kareon’s child felt like divinity and betrayal. The gods could offer, but only she would decide what would root in her womb. That was her power.
Her head turned, slow and aching, until her eyes found Stephan. He was already watching her, and gods, his eyes were breaking. His breath came shallow. His fingers flexed, then fell still. She tried to speak.
Don’t believe him, Stephan. Please. Not like this.
But no sound came.
Then he stepped back. The silence that followed tore through her like judgment.
Stephan stood, still and burning. He had seen the plea in her eyes. Yet Kriponius’s words struck like a poisoned blade. He had always known her heart. But now…what if the gods wanted her for another? What if fate demanded she become something he could never be part of?
No. He would not break.
Kriponius was playing another game, crafting lies to unmake him.
Stephan’s jaw locked. His fury rose, sacred and consuming. It swallowed the ache, erased the doubt, and left only fire. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I do not believe you."
Kriponius smirked. Stephan did not flinch. He raised his blade.
"And even if fate has written her name beside his," he said, "she is not yours to claim." He stepped forward, then took another. The earth itself seemed to hold its breath. "Not then. Not now. Not ever."
It was more than defiance. It was a promise. A war reborn in flame.
The storm howled, wind screaming across the battlefield. Kriponius stood at its center, a predator savoring the inevitable. His chuckle coiled through the air, indulgent, tightening like a noose around Stephan. "Thou dost not believe me?"
Kriponius’s gaze shifted to Kareon. The beast was gone. What remained was a bare man, breathless and broken. He tilted his head, like a god sneering at a failed creation.
“I knew the truth the moment I tasted his blood.”
The air curled and soured. Stephan stiffened. Eris’s pulse lurched. Kareon’s body locked. Then Kriponius spoke again, quieter now, and worse for it.
"Seraphina’s blood runneth through his veins, as surely as it runneth through thine."
Silence followed. Not the kind that drifts, but the kind that drowns. Stephan’s breath halted. Eris froze. Kareon’s eyes widened, as if pierced.
But Kriponius did not deal in mercy. "Kaelioth’s blood did mingle with Seraphina’s. It carried forward, unseen and unbroken, generation unto generation. This mongrel is as much her get as thou art.”
His gaze moved between Stephan, Eris, and Kareon as the truth settled and poisoned.
Three descendants. One bloodline.
Kriponius exhaled, slow and mocking. His smirk twisted into something colder.
Then, with pure and deliberate disgust: "Abhorrent, is it not?"
His voice slid between them, waiting for their world to break.
Kareon clenched his fists, his breath catching in his throat.
Kaelioth, the old man who had raised him, had lain with Seraphina. He had been kin all along, and yet he had never spoken of it.
