Chapter 81: A Pact of Souls

The world around Ezra shimmered in a kaleidoscope of colors. The vibrant hues danced and intertwined, creating a living tapestry that enveloped him in its embrace.

He felt a gentle pull, drawing him deeper into the shifting lights. The colors began to form images, giving him glimpses a life once lived.

The first scene materialized in a cozy cafe, warm light spilling through large windows. Valaren and a man whose face was obscured sat at a corner table, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the hanging lamps. seaʀᴄh thё Nôvelƒire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

They were laughing, the sound light and carefree. Valaren's eyes sparkled with joy as the man recounted a funny story, gesturing animatedly with his hands. The bond between them was obvious, their shared laughter an indication of their closeness and the comfort they found in each other's company.

The colors swirled and shifted, transporting Ezra to a dark alley under a moonlit sky. Valaren stood at one end wielding a gun in each hand, her posture tense and ready. Across from her, a vampire stood, red eyes swirling and face plastered with a menacing grin.

The fight began with a blur of motion, Valaren firing bullets that whizzed through the air. The vampire moved with supernatural grace, dodging the projectiles and closing the distance between them. Just as the vampire was about to overwhelm her, Valaren twirled, dropping her guns and pulling off the giant gun on her back.

In a smooth motion, she blew the head off the vampire. As the vampire lay defeated at her feet, Valaren pointed to its heart and destroyed it with a single shot.

The scene dissolved into a wash of colors, and when they settled again, Ezra found himself at a somber funeral. Valaren stood alone among a sea of mourners, her black mourning dress blending into the background. Her face was a mask of stoic grief, but her eyes betrayed the depth of her sorrow.

She held a single white rose, its petals stark against the darkness of her attire. As the ceremony progressed, she stepped forward and placed the rose on the casket, her fingers lingering on the polished wood for a moment longer than necessary. The mourners around her were a blur, their faces indistinct, but Valaren's loneliness was achingly clear.

She stood apart, a solitary figure bearing the weight of her loss.

The world around Ezra shimmered again, the colors gradually fading into the dark void. When the world faded back into view, Ezra found himself standing on a lake of shimmering blue vitality that provided a dim, ethereal light.

Everywhere he looked, darkness stretched out infinitely, but he knew, instinctively, that he was standing on a lake. The surface beneath his feet rippled gently, as if responding to his presence.

He looked around, unable to see the sky or horizon or any end to the lake. It was an expanse of pure vitality, and its glow reflected off the dark void surrounding it. In the distance, he saw a figure moving slowly, her steps barely disturbing the serene surface.

It was Valaren. Her black mourning dress stood out against the soft blue light. Ezra began to jog towards her, his legs sending ripples through the lake's surface. As he got closer, the ripples grew, spreading out in concentric circles.

He caught up to her and fell in step beside her. Valaren glanced at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Ezra," she greeted, her voice a gentle acknowledgment.

As their eyes met, Ezra was certain. This was the same Valaren who had been transformed into the dragon residing inside of him. The recognition was undeniable.

"Where are we?" Ezra asked, looking around at the endless expanse of shimmering blue.

"My soul." Valaren answered. "We are standing on the lake of vitality that resides within my soul." There was a soft chuckle as she added, "Is it fate, I wonder? I would like to believe that it is."

Ezra admitted, "I don't understand."

Valaren's eyes held a knowing light. "You will, in time," she assured him.

They walked in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft whisper of their steps on the liquid vitality. Ezra finally broke the silence with a question that had been gnawing at him. "Who was Shadrach to you?"

Silence.

"Shadrach was my closest cousin," Valaren answered, her voice tinged with fondness and a hint of sadness.

Another moment of silence passed as they strolled together. Ezra's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and curiosity. What's going on? Macmillan ripped out my heart. I shouldn't be here. In fact, I shouldn't be anywhere.

"Am I dead?" he asked, the question almost a whisper.

Valaren shook her head. "No, you're not. Though your soul is gone, you are sharing mine. We are intertwined."

Ezra took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. "What now?" he asked.

Valaren stopped and turned to face him. "I saw your vision of me and the progenitor in the throne room," she said, her voice thoughtful. "I understand now. I had forgotten that I was never meant to do the fighting myself. I was meant to be the weapon. Now, I have a chance to make things right."

Her eyes met his with a burning intensity. "I offer you my soul on one condition," she said. "You will give me your oath. You must claim the throne of the progenitor and open the gate to the abyss. You must enter and kill the hope of the wolfskins. Just as they did to us, do to them!"

Her words echoed around the space, giving the sound a haunting quality.

Ezra stood tall. The voice of the progenitor echoed in his mind. "Do you know the most powerful blood of all? It is the blood that is freely given." Ezra inhaled deeply. He didn't need to make Valaren submit. He only needed to give freely.

The progenitor's voice floated to him once more. "Our blood carries the power of centuries. A legacy of strength and resilience passed down through generations. We never give up. We fight. We survive.

We destroy."

Ezra felt a surge of determination. "I offer you my blood to seal this oath," he said, his voice steady. "In exchange for your soul, I will do whatever I can to fulfill your wishes."

Valaren smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for giving you this burden."

Ezra stretched out his hand, offering it to her, palm facing up. "I accept this burden of my own free will," he said with a reassuring smile.

"Then, I give you my soul." Valaren took a moment to compose herself. Then, with a graceful movement, she took his hand. The contact sent a jolt through them both, and a great ripple spread from their feet, cascading through the lake.

The world around them flashed brilliantly, the lake's serene surface disturbed by the power of their pact. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it enveloped them completely.

"Rise, Ezra. Rise, Son of Blood and Darkness."