Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Azrael’s POV

*****

"I saw these... dark sigils across my arms. They pulsed with magic that wasn’t quite mine and felt... wrong."

Those words from Celeste still haunted him after all these hours. He stood in front of a mirror in his room, arms behind his back and glasses taken off.

The others may not have a clue what those dark sigils meant. But he did. Gods below, he did.

And if it was what he suspected... It would explain why Celeste suddenly felt different since she fainted. He didn’t know how to describe it but there was this familiar aura around her now.

"It all makes sense now," he muttered, jaw locked. "Those sigils link her to the Vein. This is what the High One has been anticipating all these years."

The Vein.

He and his kin might be one of the only beings in existence with any substantial knowledge of the Vein and its chaotic magic.

Because centuries ago they were cast into it alongside the High One...

.

.

France, 1255 AD

It all began decades after he was turned into a vampire by the High One. Azrael had adapted. Grown stronger. Mastered abilities he didn’t know were possible originally.

Two more vampires were made after him during this period—Amunirah and Ishmael.

Although the High One hoped to create more, she stopped at these three for now. They were enough to carry out the first phase of her plan:

Spreading chaos.

"Monsieur Louis," a man burst through the doors of a tavern in the city of Paris, barely holding onto his hat. "Have you heard the rumours rolling through Europe?"

As the man marched to his destination, across the tavern, behind the stench of sweat and beer, sat three mysterious people donned in black.

The High One’s children.

Azrael’s eyes were hidden underneath the shadow of his hat but his supernatural hearing made it easy to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Silly lad," Louis, the older man with a thick beard, sneered. "Of course, I’ve heard. Every pack from Hungary stretching to Venice has heard." His tone lowered as the other man sat. "Has anyone figured out who or what they are yet?"

The younger man shook his head. "The current theory is a witch. Or something evil summoned by one."

A small smirk curved Azrael’s lips.

Evil.

The truth was, he and his brethren had begun targeting werewolves in isolated regions. Specifically werewolves.

Humanity was still blissfully unaware of the supernatural in this era. But in the shadows, tensions had begun boiling between witches and wolves.

A tension which Azrael and his brethren pushed further with their heinous acts.

"Goddess have mercy," Louis belched out with a sigh. "And the Alpha King still hasn’t said anything."

"There needs to be enough packs making reports for him to take it as a serious threat. For now, it just seems like scattered conflicts with witches."

At the mention of that, Azrael threw a glance at Amunira and Ishmael. Both gave him the same look as well, a telepathic link activating instantly.

’We’ve confirmed they’re all wolves here.’ Ishmael started, ever the most violent. ’Let’s go ahead. Raze the place to the ground and move onto the next.’

’The three of us against all of them?’ Amunira was more hesitant. ’Now that sounds difficult.’

Azrael, on the other hand, remained silent. He rubbed a thumb against his ring—his object of office. His face was stone cold, eyes blazing beneath the shadows of his hat.

"Observe." He said that out loud at the same moment that a female server walked up to their table.

The young lady had a bright smile, adjusting her apron before clearing her throat. "Good day. Are you enjoying the ale? And can I get the young madame—"

All Azrael did was raise his head, his eyes glinting with a cold light when they met the woman. She froze, several emotions twisting her features in quick succession.

Then one settled.

One he’s seen countless times throughout his decades of service to the High One.

Fear.

"P–Please," she stumbled backwards, shaking her head repeatedly. "Please. W–What are you?"

Hysteria gripped her psyche, shaking her will until it was rendered useless before him. It didn’t matter that she was a wolf. It didn’t matter that she had a mind stronger than a human’s.

That all meant nothing before the chaos and madness his gaze wrought.

When the woman’s scream pierced through the seemingly mundane activities of the tavern, Amunira acted next. She moved in a blur, shoving a hand through the girl’s chest.

The latter stiffened, blood trickling down a corner of her mouth. Then Amunira mercilessly pulled out her hand, the wolf’s beating heart sitting pretty between her fingers.

Silence settled in the tavern for a beat. Every wolf present, staff or customer, gawked at the group with confusion, hesitation and fear.

Then, "It’s them!"

"Witches?!"

"Whatever they are, capture them!"

"No—bring their heads!"

And just like that, every wolf charged at them, united by fear and the desire to take down one common enemy.

Exactly what the High One desired.

.

.

Of course, that day Azrael and his brethren slaughtered almost every wolf with ease.

Almost.

They always made sure to leave one or two survivors.

Just enough to spread rumours, terror and distrust directed at one race.

Witches.

As the centuries passed and the High One turned more humans into her loyal children of the night, the resentment for witches amongst wolves intensified.

Calamities that plagued every race like the Black Death, the Great Famine, the dancing plague... All of it was somehow linked back to witches. Especially in the hearts of wolves.

It was this series of events that ultimately led to some of the most powerful witches to band together and banish the High One and her vampires to the very chaotic magic source she tapped into.

Yes.

The Vein.

But by then it was already too late—

—The evils of the vampires led wolves to wage war against all witches centuries later.

"I still remember how I craved to feel the sun again all those years in the Vein," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head to clear his mind of the past. "And now once again, after the reign of the Alpha King’s wife... Her daughter might be its new keeper."

He still didn’t understand what was happening. No amount of past experiences could give him answers on what the High One truly planned.

But he had a feeling it was something to do with releasing her true form from the Vein entirely.

Now he was torn between two paths.

Does he reveal everything he knows to Celeste and the others? Or should he keep on being complicit, watching silently as the Vein’s magic consumed the only mortal he’s grown to care for?

His fists clenched beside him.

"I’ll find you a way out of this, Celeste." He whispered, eyes lingering on the sands outside. "Somehow... Even if it means betraying my kin."