Eternally Bound by Blood(Dark Bl)

The witch's gaze hardened as the cold wind cut through the clearing, her crimson cloak billowing behind her. She felt the presence—felt *him*—and knew they were being watched. There wasn't much time. The immortal was hunting them, and if they didn't act quickly, the village wouldn't be the only massacre that day.

"He's testing us," she said quietly, her voice calm despite the urgency in her eyes. She turned to Elias, her sharp features illuminated by the dim morning light. "But we have one advantage—he doesn't know I'm here. He doesn't know the offspring of the seal's creator still lives."

Elias raised an eyebrow, his silver hair catching the light. "And how do we use that?"

The witch took a breath, her mind already spinning with ancient incantations and the knowledge that had been passed down to her. She knew how powerful Alaric was—how dangerous. But the key to sealing him again wasn't brute force. It was trickery, deception—just as it had been centuries ago. His arrogance was his weakness.

"We need to lure him," she continued, her voice steady but low, so only those closest could hear. The hunters huddled in around her, their grim faces lined with exhaustion and fear. "If he thinks we're just a band of hunters, nothing more, he'll engage. But we'll be ready."

"Ready for what?" the broad-shouldered hunter from earlier asked, his face twisted with confusion.

The witch locked eyes with Elias. "We need to set a trap. One strong enough to bind him again." She paused, measuring her words. "I can recreate something similar to the seal, but only if he's caught off guard. The moment he realizes the full extent of my powers, he'll break free before I even have the chance."

Elias's brow furrowed. "You're saying we have to fight him first?"

The witch nodded, her red hair flowing like fire in the cold wind. "Yes. We need to make him believe he can win, that he's playing with us. Once he's close enough, I'll activate the spell."

One of the older hunters stepped forward, skepticism lining his face. "And what if he breaks the seal again? What's to stop him next time?"

The witch's expression darkened. "This is our last chance. If we fail now, there won't be another opportunity. He's already growing stronger after feasting on the villagers . The seal weakens with every moment he's awake. Soon, it won't matter if we trap him—he'll find a way to break it, and when he does, his full powers will be unleashed." She gestured to the piles of bodies. "What you see here will be nothing compared to the destruction he'll cause."

Elias glanced around at the hunters, who stood in a circle, their weapons ready but their faces pale with dread. He knew what they were facing—an ancient force, older and deadlier than anything they had encountered before. And yet, there was no other choice. They had to act, or everything would be lost.

"Alright," Elias said, his voice cutting through the tension. "What do you need from us?"

The witch turned, her sharp eyes flicking between the hunters. "Surround me and I'll create a barriar. He'll come for the weakest link—the one he believes is most vulnerable." Her lips curved into a cold, almost knowing smile. "That will be me. I'll be the bait."

The hunters shifted, forming a protective ring around her. They exchanged wary glances but knew better than to question her judgment. She was the only one who could trap Alaric, and without her, they were all as good as dead.

Elias raised his hand, signaling to the others. "Stay sharp and form a protective circle . Don't let your guard down for a second. He could come from any direction."

The witch reached into her cloak, pulling out a small vial filled with shimmering liquid. She began murmuring incantations, her fingers tracing symbols in the air as she prepared the spell that would bind the immortal. Her hands moved with purpose, steady and deliberate, even as the tension around them mounted.

As they waited, the scarce trees around them grew unnervingly still. The hunters gripped their weapons tightly, eyes darting between the trees, hearts racing. They knew what was coming, even if they didn't know when.

The witch's voice, barely a whisper now, cut through the silence. "He's close."

Elias glanced over at her, his expression tense. "How close?"

Her eyes flashed, glowing faintly with magic as she locked her gaze on the dark edge of the woods. "Close enough to feel us."

And then, from the shadows, a low, menacing laugh echoed through the clearing.

"He's here."

The witch's eyes narrowed, her fingers weaving through the air with precision as she began her incantation. Her voice, low and melodic, carried through the still morning air, every word thick with ancient power. The language was old—older than any of the hunters had ever heard—each syllable laced with magic drawn from a time when the world was younger, and the forces that governed it were raw and untamed.

*"Ignis vinculum, sanguis aeternus, daemonium redime ad tenebras…"*

The hunters stood firm around her, their faces set in grim determination. They knew the danger of what they were about to face, but this was their only hope. If they faltered, even for a second, the immortal would tear through them like paper. Weapons were drawn, eyes darting through the dense tree line, waiting for a sign—anything.

And then, from the shadows, that laughter came again. Louder this time, crueler.

Alaric's voice, deep and mocking, slithered from the darkness like venom, wrapping around each of them in chilling waves. "I *smell* you,witch."

His words dripped with malevolence, the laughter only growing louder, reverberating through the trees. The hunters shifted nervously, gripping their weapons tighter. Despite their training, none of them could ignore the unnatural cold that gripped their hearts. This was no ordinary enemy; this was a predator older than time itself, and they were its prey.

The witch, though, did not falter. Her chanting grew louder, more forceful, her words crackling with power as the incantation intensified.

*"Vinculum aeternum... daemonium obstringe…"*

Alaric's voice grew closer, now accompanied by the rustling of the trees, the telltale sign of something—or *someone*—moving swiftly through the underbrush. "You're magic can not save you from my hunger."

His laugh sent a shiver through the hunters, but the witch remained focused, her hands moving faster, the shimmering liquid from the vial glowing brighter as it swirled around her fingers. The air around her began to hum with energy, the very ground beneath her feet trembling with the weight of the spell she was invoking.

She couldn't stop now. No matter how close he was. No matter how terrifying his presence became.

Alaric's voice cut through the darkness again, this time with a sinister edge. "Do you know what it's like, to be bound for centuries? To be trapped in the darkness, unable to move, unable to *feed*? I do. And I have all the time in the world to repay you're kind for it."

Suddenly, the hunters could feel a shift in the air—a dense, oppressive force bearing down on them, making it harder to breathe. Alaric was close, too close. The tension mounted, and still, the witch chanted on.

*"Daemoni lacrimas, exaudi sanguinem meum, ligatura vitae…"*

The magic was building, swirling around them like a storm. The hunters could feel the hairs on the back of their necks standing on end, the raw power of the spell growing stronger by the second. But they could also feel *him*—that ancient, unnatural presence growing closer, circling them, watching.

And then, without warning, there was a blur of movement.

A gust of wind whipped through the clearing, followed by the flash of a figure too fast to be seen. The hunters raised their weapons, but it was too late. Alaric moved like a shadow, unseen and unstoppable, his laughter echoing through the trees.

"I recognize those chanting .Do you plan to seal me away again, witch," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The witch's eyes flashed as she neared the final verse of her spell, ignoring his taunts, her voice unwavering even as the immortal circled them. She couldn't stop now. If she did, all would be lost.

But Alaric's laughter continued, louder and more chilling, as if he was savoring every moment of their impending failure. "Do you really think your ancestors were the only ones who knew how to wield magic, little witch? I have waited centuries for this."

He was close enough now that the hunters could feel the unnatural cold emanating from him, creeping into their bones. But the witch didn't break, her incantation rising above his voice, drawing power from the earth itself.

And then the clearing fell silent, the weight of the moment crushing down upon them.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Just the soft crackle of magic in the air.

As the tension in the air reached its peak, a blinding flash of silver light erupted from the shadows, momentarily illuminating the clearing. The hunters blinked against the brightness, and when their eyes adjusted, there he stood.

Alaric had emerged from the depths of the darkness, his presence striking and ethereal. With hair as white as snow and skin that glowed with an almost otherworldly luminescence, he resembled an angel fallen from grace—a vision of beauty so captivating that it took the breath away from even the bravest among them. His eyes, however, betrayed a deep and insatiable hunger, swirling with shades of crimson and onyx, reflecting the chaos that churned within.

The hunters momentarily forgot their fear, their weapons wavering as they took in the sight of him. Alaric's smile was disarmingly charming, a wicked twist of his lips that suggested he reveled in the power he held over them. There was an alluring quality to him, an intoxicating blend of elegance and danger that left them entranced.

"Well, well," he purred, his voice smooth and melodic, wrapping around them like silk. "What a delightful gathering we have here. *Hunters*, is it? I must say, I'm flattered." He took a step forward, his movements graceful and fluid, as if he glided rather than walked.

The witch, unwavering in her purpose, narrowed her eyes at him, but even she felt a flutter of apprehension in her gut. "You're still bound by the seal my mother created, and I have the power to enslave you ."she challenged ,though her voice wavered slightly.

Alaric's eyes gleamed, the amusement in them deepening as his lips curved into a chilling grin that sent icy shivers down the spines of the hunters. He didn't move closer, savoring the moment, tasting their fear. His presence was suffocating, like a storm gathering strength, ready to unleash its fury.

He sniffed the air, and the scent hit him—the familiar bloodline of one who had once sealed him away. His gaze locked onto the witch before him, realization dawning. Daughter.

The knowledge that the witch's daughter now stood before him, threatening to enslave him once more, ignited a violent surge of rage. The thought alone was enough to send him into a frenzy, his control slipping as he teetered on the edge of madness. His grin faltered, replaced by a snarl as his eyes darkened, swirling with fury. Alaric was no longer playing; he was ready to destroy everything in his path.

Alaric's smirk deepened, a dangerous glint sparking in his eyes as he leaned back, exuding a confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Your mother," he began, his voice dripping with charm and malice, "was a rather ambitious one, wasn't she? Thought she could be my apprentice, learn my secrets." He laughed, the sound low and mocking. "She had her sights set on more than just a bit of power, though. Foolish, really."

He paced a few steps, hands casually tucked into his pockets, as though reminiscing about an amusing story. "So, when she got greedy, I decided to pay her coven a little visit. The massacre was... necessary." He paused, his eyes flashing with dark satisfaction. "I remember the way they begged. It was almost... touching."

His gaze locked onto the hunters, daring them to react. "And your dear mother? She wasn't spared either." Alaric licked his lips, a cruel smile playing on his face. "I drank from her, savored every drop. She had quite the flavor, really. But she had one last trick up her sleeve, didn't she?" His voice turned mocking, yet dangerously sharp. "Barely managed to survive by casting some feeble spell, running away like a wounded animal. Brave, but ultimately futile."

He stilled, eyes narrowing as his tone grew menacing. "And now you think you can finish what she started? I'm flattered, truly. But let's not pretend you're any different. The same weak, desperate blood runs through your veins. And this time—" he leaned in, his smile chilling, "—no spells will save you."

The witch's resolve hardened, though her pulse quickened. She raised her hands, her fingers weaving faster through the air, the spell's power building. She could feel the magic responding, growing more tangible, but she also felt Alaric's presence pressing against it, testing it. He wasn't just standing there passively—he was toying with them watching it form as though it were a minor distraction.He could see the barrier the witch had formed around the hunters that circled her and he just stood.... watching.

Alaric smiled turned chuckled, a low and throaty sound that sent shivers down their spines. "*Ah*, my dear witch, you underestimate my patience . Just because my powers are sealed doesn't mean I'm weak. But tell me, do you truly believe you can contain what has always existed in the shadows? I have waited for this moment, and I will not squander it."

He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the hunters before him. "You're all so eager to play the hero, but let's be honest. You're drawn to me, are you not? The thrill of the chase, the allure of power? If you can win my favor, imagine the power you could wield."

Some of the hunters exchanged glances, uncertainty creeping into their minds. They had come prepared to fight, to vanquish the immortal, yet here he stood, looking like a divine being and weaving his dark charisma around them like a noose.

Alaric straightened, his expression shifting into one of mock innocence. "You must understand, I can be quite generous to those who impress me. Strength, beauty, and loyalty can earn you a place at my side. Or perhaps…" He trailed off, a finger tapping thoughtfully against his chin. "Perhaps I could grant you a wish?All you have to do is come forth and that will break your pathetic barriar."

The hunters were momentarily enraptured, the promise of power and desire tugging at their hearts. They could feel the weight of his gaze, his wickedness shining through like a beacon. But deep down, fear battled with allure, for they knew the tales of his cruelty as it was a story passed down through generations, the way he toyed with his prey before delivering the fatal blow.

The witch, though rattled, found her voice again. "You're still trapped, Alaric. You may charm them, but they know what you truly are. They've seen the bodies piled in the village—the innocent lives you've taken. They will not fall for your games."

Alaric's smile widened, a glimmer of feral delight lighting up his features. "*Oh, my dear witch*, you truly think your spells can hold me forever? Your magic is but a flickering candle against the inferno I can unleash." He glanced at the hunters, his voice smooth as silk. "Tell me, does the thought of joining my side not tempt you? The strength you've sought, the power to reshape your destinies?"

"Just imagine—together, we could carve a path through this world, leaving nothing but ashes in our wake."

Their resolve weakened with each word, the thrill of his promise of power seeping into their minds, stirring a darkness within them that they had fought to suppress. It was a tantalizing offer—one that promised revenge, strength, and dominion over the very beings that had hunted them for centuries.

And yet, even as Alaric spoke, the witch's incantation continued to pulse in the air, the raw magic threatening to break free at any moment. She focused on her words, determined to remain anchored amidst the chaos that Alaric's presence created.

"You can seduce them with your charms, ancient one," she warned, her voice resolute. "But they know better than to trust a monster."

Alaric tilted his head, considering her words. "*Monster?* How dull. I prefer the term 'immortal'—it sounds so much more elegant." His gaze flicked back to the hunters, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "And remember, a monster is merely a misunderstood creature in the right light."

In that moment, as the hunters hesitated, caught in the web of his enchanting words, Alaric's true nature shimmered beneath the surface, the wickedness and allure of a being who had existed for centuries—an immortal whose charm could ensnare even the most determined of hearts. He could taste their hesitation, their yearning for power, and he savored it like a fine wine.

The witch's voice rose over the murmur of uncertainty, her incantation peaking as she called forth the last threads of her magic. "*Fiat lux, et tenebris abeam!*"

And as her spell culminated, Alaric's smile faltered ever so slightly, an ominous shadow crossing his features. The realization dawned on him, the spell would work, and his moment of charm would be thwarted.He refused to run away .He would rather be sealed again than to run away from a witch.

"Ah, *but if only you knew,*" he murmured, his voice a tantalizing whisper, barely above a breath. "The darkness has always been my ally."

With that, the world around them shifted, the air thickening as the spell began to take hold.

Alaric's laughter echoed through the clearing, a haunting melody that blended with the rustling leaves. He stepped closer to the assembled hunters, his presence intoxicating and terrifying. As he circled them, his black eyes glimmered with malevolent delight, and his teeth elongated, sharp as knives, glistening with a hunger that had been dormant for far too long.

Alaric began to grow increasingly angered .His voice tinging with a demonic echo" How many of your coven did I slaughter, hmm? How many of your precious sisters fell to my blade, their blood painting the earth like a crimson tapestry?*" He paused, savoring the memory. "*I can still taste the sweetness of their fear, the exquisite terror that filled their eyes as I claimed their lives. Their screams were music to my ears.*"

The witch clenched her fists, anger flickering in her gaze, but fear lingered just beneath the surface. Alaric noticed the hesitation, and it fueled his wicked delight. "*You're just a shadow of what they once were,*" he continued, circling her like a predator toying with its prey. "*Your ancestors were strong, fierce—yet they crumbled before my power. And look at you now, hiding behind your spells and charms, a fading relic of a forgotten time. You cannot kill me. I have lived for thousands of years; I am death incarnate. What can you possibly do that hasn't already been done?*"

With each word, Alaric could see the witch's resolve weakening, the weight of his taunts pressing down on her like a heavy shroud. He thrived on it, reveling in her frustration and despair. "*Your blood runs cold, dear witch. I can sense it—just like your power. You think you can seal me away again? How naïve!*" His voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with malice. "*I have tasted the essence of witches before, and I must say, it leaves a delightful aftertaste.*"

At that moment, the witch's fury ignited, her eyes blazing with a fierce light. "*Enough!*" she shouted, and with a sudden burst of energy, she unleashed a torrent of magic. Arcane symbols danced in the air around her as she channeled every ounce of her power into a single, desperate attack aimed directly at Alaric.

But he simply laughed, dodging her spell with ease, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "What part of immortal do you not understand.I cannot die no matter if I want to or not."

With a swift motion, he retaliated, his sharpened fangs glistening like daggers in the fading light of the cracking barrier.The witch gasped knowing she made a mistake . "*I'll enjoy the hunt. "

The air crackled with energy as he stepped into the circle of hunters, the darkness enveloping him like a shroud. "*Shall we dance, my dear witch?*" Alaric whispered, relishing the fear that spread through the group. "*I promise to make it memorable.*"