Chapter 22: The Road to Bloodhaven
The night air was thick with tension as Aarav, Kieran, and Veyron moved through the city's underbelly. The journey to Bloodhaven wouldn't be easy. If the fortress still stood, it was either under Elder control or guarded by those who had survived in his absence.
Either way, they would have to fight for it.
Kieran walked beside Aarav, his expression unreadable. He was still adjusting to the memories flooding back to him in fragments—battlefields, whispered oaths, the sight of Aarav standing atop a mountain of corpses, a king in his prime.
"You think Bloodhaven still stands?" Kieran finally asked.
Aarav didn't hesitate. "It has to."
Veyron chuckled from behind them. "Optimistic. But I like it."
They emerged from the alleyway and into a deserted industrial zone. The roads were cracked, the air filled with the scent of rust and old blood.
Aarav could feel something here—an energy that tugged at his very being. Bloodhaven was calling to him.
Then, the scent hit him.
Not just old blood. Fresh blood.
He stopped abruptly. Kieran and Veyron noticed immediately.
"What is it?" Kieran asked, already shifting into battle mode.
Aarav's eyes darkened. "We're not alone."
A flicker of movement.
Then—they struck.
A blur of shadows descended upon them from the rooftops. At least a dozen figures, their eyes glowing red, their fangs bared.
Vampires.
Kieran barely had time to react before one of them lunged at him, claws swiping at his throat. He dodged, countering with a brutal elbow to the attacker's ribs. The vampire snarled but didn't fall.
Aarav moved faster than thought. His first opponent barely had time to register the danger before Aarav's fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into a rusted car.
Veyron danced between enemies, laughing as he fought, weaving through their attacks with deadly grace.
The leader of the attackers—a tall, scarred vampire with black tribal markings on his arms—watched the battle from the shadows. He didn't move. Didn't intervene. Just observed.
Aarav noticed.
He grabbed the nearest attacker by the throat, lifting him off the ground. "Who sent you?"
The vampire spat blood, snarling. "You don't belong here."
Aarav's grip tightened. "Who. Sent. You?"
The leader finally stepped forward, his voice deep and cold.
"I did."
The fighting stopped instantly. The remaining vampires withdrew, forming a loose circle around them.
Aarav dropped the vampire he was holding, stepping forward. "And who are you?"
The leader's crimson eyes burned with recognition. "Someone who remembers who you were, Kairos."
Aarav's jaw clenched at the name.
The leader smirked. "I am Draven, commander of Bloodhaven's last defenders." He spread his arms. "And if you want your throne back… you're going to have to prove you deserve it."
Aarav's lips curled into a dangerous smile.
"Then let's begin."
To be continued…