Blood isn't thicker than water—it's heavier. And when it flows beneath cursed cities, it doesn't nourish—it drowns.
The Phantom Cathedral – Inner Glyph Crypt
The mirror hadn't stopped cracking.
Asher stood alone before the fractured relic, its surface no longer reflecting the man he was—only the things he might become. One shard showed him in royal regalia, his expression unreadable. Another showed him feral, mouth smeared with something darker than blood. A third revealed hollow eyes in a hollow face, devoid of soul, yet smiling like it had devoured one.
The reflection spoke more truth than he was ready to hear.
Behind him, Lucien lingered like a fading ghost, flicking through the city's emergency relay channels. Rosa, down the long stairway, worked to stabilize the glyphic interference surging through Velvora's psychoscape—waves of unrest bleeding into dreams, seeping into every attuned mind.
And through it all… the voice returned.
It didn't echo in the air, but in Asher's bones.
"You are not the first heir, Asher Blackwood…You are merely the one left standing."
Asher flinched, not because he feared the words—but because deep down, he believed them.
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Decoding the Glyph Crypt
The Cathedral's hidden vault revealed its secrets reluctantly.
Layers of spellwork peeled away as Rosa translated the old glyphic tongues—dead dialects from before Velvora's first collapse. History written not in ink, but in sigil-sealed confessions.
What they found… wasn't history.
It was guilt.
A confession etched in stone and starlight:
Bloodchildren Project – Varn Dynastic Directive.
"Begin Phase III. Results unstable. Thought-bleed events increasing. Consider fallback plan: containment over control. Legacy must survive. Even if it must sleep in pain."
Lucien ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the tablet's etched surface. "They didn't kill them…"
"No," Rosa said grimly. "They couldn't."
She tapped the glyph repeatedly, translating aloud.
"They fused infernal essence into human bloodlines. Combined demonic thought-structures with mortal glyph-weaving. They tried to create a new species—one bound to Velvora's living soul."
"And it worked," Lucien said darkly. "But not the way they wanted."
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Velvora Archive Records – Sealed Sector
Subject Designation: Bloodchildren.Function: Inheritors.Outcome: Instability, autonomous reality-crafting. Rejected by the glyphcore.Final Order: Bury. Do not destroy. Do not name.
The records went on to describe them in painful detail.
Children whose memories rewrote timelines. Whose emotions bled through buildings. Whose cries bent metal, altered seasons, collapsed dreams.
So the ruling family—the Varn Dynasty—sealed them away. Not because they feared rebellion.
But because they feared what they had birthed.
All except one.
Selvaria Varn.
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Eastern Industrial Slums – Derelict District
Rain dripped through holes in the tinwork roof of the forgotten chamber. Rusted chains dangled like dead vines from the ceiling as Selvaria knelt before a massive glyphic pod embedded into the cracked floor.
It pulsed faintly—ancient tech woven into biological slumber.
She cut her palm without hesitation and let her blood run along the pod's carved veins. The glyph drank it greedily, lighting up with a sickly green glow.
Whispers filled the air—voices long buried.
Then: the pod shivered.
A hand broke through its membranous surface. Thin, trembling, too pale to be human.
Then the face followed—stitched eyes, mouth sealed with glowing glyph-thread, skin covered in dormant sigils like branded scars.
A Bloodchild, reborn.
Selvaria's breath hitched. She hadn't wept in years, but now her eyes glistened.
She reached out and pulled the child into her arms. The creature didn't speak—it couldn't—but its soul sang. A song only Selvaria could hear.
"Welcome back," she whispered.
Her voice was soft. Terrifying.
"We have a city to reclaim."
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Back in the Cathedral – Glyph Interpretation Room
Rosa traced a final circle across the cracked stone with her glove. The glyph ignited and bloomed into a three-dimensional projection: Velvora's original bloodline map.
And there it was.
The Varn Seal—twisted, fractured, but not erased.
Lucien shook his head. "So that's why the Mask Cult targeted the lower sectors. They weren't just trying to revive demons. They were trying to resurrect the Varn code."
"And Asher…" Rosa paused, her voice thick with meaning.
"He's not just cursed," Lucien offered.
"No," Rosa corrected, eyes narrowing.
"He's inheritance incarnate."
She stepped back and looked at Asher, who stared blankly into the void where the projection once flickered.
"The Bloodchildren will come," she added.
"And they won't come to beg."
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That Night – Asher's Dream
The line between vision and prophecy had long blurred for Asher. Dreams no longer obeyed rules.
He walked through the ruins of Velvora—its towers split open like ribcages, glyph-light leaking from the cracks like dying fireflies. Ash rained from the sky like soft snow.
And then… he saw her.
Selvaria Varn.Draped in black and red.Eyes aglow with old magic. Her expression unreadable—neither cruel nor kind.
She smiled like he was her lost son.
"You are my shadow," she said softly, hands outstretched.
"And every shadow eventually returns home."
Then she stepped aside.
And the darkness behind her blinked.
Thousands of eyes. Thousands of breathing, silent figures hidden in the void.
The Bloodchildren had awoken.
[End Of Chapter 108]
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Next Chapter Preview: Chapter 109 – "Velvora's Heir"
Asher's genetic and mystical connection to the city's original rulers ignites fear among its current powers. While Rosa and Lucien debate protecting or controlling him, the Watchers consider eliminating him altogether. Meanwhile, the Bloodchildren infiltrate Velvora's glyph-based systems, corrupting its core from the inside. With Selvaria preparing to take the city back by force, Asher must decide: stand as heir… or burn with the rest.