Page 170 of Haunted Crowns
His horse reared before Kareon. Their eyes locked. They said nothing, because they already knew.
"That monster should have rotted in the dark. Now he’s awake." Stephan’s breath seared in his chest, but his voice held. "And his first instinct will be to take—" Kareon’s jaw tightened. "Eris."
Stephan nodded. His grip closed around Sanguine Oath with quiet fury. Though his breath came hard, his purpose did not waver. "I have to stop him before he reaches her."
Kareon stepped forward, his presence thunderous. "Then I ride with you."
Stephan stiffened. "No." His voice was iron, unyielding. "She cannot be left unguarded. If I—"
He choked on the words, silence holding between them.
Kareon understood what he could not say. His golden eyes burned like embers in the dark. "Come back whole, Dragov. Or I’ll come for you myself."
Stephan did not respond. He offered one last glance—a warrior’s farewell, a brother’s command. And then, he rode like hell.
The ride blurred beneath him, fire and frost trailing his path.
Dragov Castle rose ahead, its towers piercing the night, wreathed in an unnatural glow. Once it had been his home. Now it felt possessed.
A servant rushed forward as Stephan dismounted.
"Take him," Stephan said, his voice cold and final.
He strode through the gates into corridors heavy with unseen breath. The torches shuddered, their flames clawing at the stone. Portraits of dead kings watched with eyes that seemed to shift when he moved. The deeper he went, the colder it became, thick with the presence of something buried and breathing. By the time he reached the crypt level, the air pressed in on his lungs like stone.
He slowed. The crypt doors stood ajar, wide like a grave left open too long. The scent of blood filled his nostrils, metallic and wrong.
Stephan pressed his back to the wall, steadied his breath, and looked inside.
A figure stood before a coffin marked with his own name. It was not a man. It was shadow given shape. His black hair hung wild. His face was sharp, merciless. Untouched by time. But it was the eyes that froze Stephan in place—not red or gold, but black as the void itself. A gaze that consumed rather than saw.
The air pulsed around him, bending to him. In his grasp, a servant hung limp, throat exposed, breathless with terror.
Kriponius fed.
He latched onto the man’s neck, his fangs sinking deep into flesh. The body shriveled as the skin collapsed inward. This was not feeding. This was erasure. He was the third. Two more lay crumpled nearby, drained and gray, forgotten by the world.
Stephan swallowed hard. He was too late.
Kriponius grew stronger with every drop. The air darkened. The walls seemed to press inward, power pulsing like a waking god. Stephan exhaled. There was no time. He had to end this for Eris.
Before Kriponius could move, Stephan stepped forward. His movements were slow, controlled. He placed himself between Kriponius and the exit.
His body held like steel. His face remained carved in stone, but inside, his heart slammed against his ribs with the force of a beast in a cage.
Kriponius let the body drop.
His movements were too smooth, too unnatural. He wiped the blood from his mouth with unsettling calm, then looked through Stephan as if reading something carved into the marrow of his bones. His gaze moved over him, slow and deliberate, as something flickered across his face. Recognition.
His black eyes narrowed. His head tilted slightly in fascination, like a man staring into a mirror.
Then his gaze dropped to Sanguine Oath, resting at Stephan’s hip. His expression shifted, as a frown formed, subtle and calculating.
When he spoke, his voice rose like a buried growl, low and resonant, not of this world. "Ah… Sanguine Oath." He paused. The silence grew thick, swollen with memory. "The blade upon which empires knelt and gods bled. I wrought dominions inflame, was anointed by blood, and razed thrones that dared to stand. Art thou so bold as to think thy hand worthy of such fire?" Another silence followed. It pressed deeper, darker. "Who walks in mine image, yet bears not my name?"
Stephan did not blink. His voice was cold steel, honed to kill. "Names are dust when the world ends. All you need to remember is this: Your next step will be your last."
Kriponius stared at him for a long moment.
