Eternally Bound by Blood(Dark Bl)

The atmosphere grew heavy with tension as the hunters closed in around Alaric, their determination palpable. They formed a tight circle, weapons glinting ominously in the fading light. The witch stood at the center, her flowing red hair along with her cape whipped around her like flames caught in a tempest. Her aura radiated power, the very air crackling with the energy of her incantation.

"*You shall suffer for all the pain you have brought upon this world,*" she declared, her voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance that commanded attention. Each word was laced with magic, weaving around the hunters and binding them to her will. They raised their weapons, chanting in unison, their voices rising in a harmonic fury that shook the ground beneath them.

Alaric suddenly smirked,no longer crying after seeing it wasn't working.With an expression of cruel amusement on his face he spoke . "*Suffer? My dear, the only one who shall suffer is you,*" he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. "*I will completely gut you and feast upon your remains like the true delicacy you are.*"

But as the words left his lips, an unexpected wave of magic surged toward him, and a shimmering collar materialized around his neck, its dark metal cold against his skin. It pulsed ominously, a symbol of the witch's power, binding him in place. Alaric's eyes widened in disbelief and fury. He grasped at the collar, but it held fast, unyielding against his attempts to break free.

"*What is this sorcery?*" he growled, his voice barely above a whisper, now filled with a rare hint of desperation.

The witch stepped forward, her presence towering, an embodiment of ancient magic and vengeance. "*A seal, crafted from the very essence of my ancestors' blood who yearn for your downfall as you had done to them,*" she proclaimed, her eyes glowing brighter as she drew nearer. "*You may have lived for millennia, but you will learn that there are fates worse than death. This collar will render you powerless to harm anyone unless I or anyone I choose permit, and your ability to do so will be entirely within my control.*"

Alaric's rage ignited at her words, a primal fury boiling within him. "*You think you can cage me?*" he hissed, his voice thick with anger. "*You may have shackled my body, but my spirit will never yield to you! I have taken kingdoms and bathed in the blood of those who dared to defy me! You are but a witch in a long line of failures!*"

He struggled against the chains that began to materialize around his limbs, the cold iron biting into his flesh as they coiled tighter, trapping him. Each link shimmered with the witch's magic, reflecting the intensity of her fury.

She continued, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "*The pain you've inflicted will be repaid in full. I shall not merely seal you away as my mother had done; I will make you experience every ounce of agony you have caused. Your reign of terror ends now.*"

Alaric's eyes flared with rage, the deep black of his irises swirling with defiance. "*I will devour your soul, witch, and you will beg for mercy before I'm done!*"

The hunters tightened their grip on their weapons, emboldened by the witch's presence. They exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing among them—this was their moment. They would bring down the monster that had haunted their nightmares for too long.

Alaric, now fully ensnared, was forced to confront the reality of his situation. With the collar sealing what little power he had and his ability to harm anyone removed, he was enraged. The wicked charm that had once flowed so freely from his lips was now replaced with a simmering rage, but it was a rage that would not go unexpressed.

"*I will not suffer the fate of your ancestors,*" Alaric declared, his voice a low growl. "*I will break this collar, and when I do, you will know what true terror feels like!*"

The witch stood triumphant, her hair billowing in a spectral wind. Alaric's fury raged behind the barrier of the collar—a reminder that while she may have trapped him for now, the game was far from over. He would bide his time, plotting revenge, waiting for the moment when the collar's magic would falter, and he would unleash his wrath upon her and the hunters who dared to think they had won.

Alaric's heart raced as the collar tightened around his neck, the magic coursing through it a chilling reminder of his captivity. He was no stranger to being trapped, but the weight of this particular seal felt different—more personal, more painful. The memories of being subdued, of having his power stripped away, flooded his mind, and with each passing moment, a sense of terror gripped him.

Alaric's voice cracked, "Eric!" The name slipped out before he could stop it, and in that instant, a sharp, visceral image invaded his mind. It was not Eric who appeared in the flash—it was Killian. The one he had longed for, the one who had haunted his existence for centuries. His chest tightened as a wave of pain surged through him, the weight of unspoken memories and lost desires hitting him with brutal force.

"No," he gasped, his voice thick with disbelief. "Not again! I refuse to be controlled like a mere pawn!" He thrashed violently against the chains that coiled tighter around him, ancient and unforgiving, as if they had a life of their own. Each link seemed to burrow into his skin, burning with the heat of old magic that even his immortality couldn't break.

Panic clawed at the edges of his mind, raw and suffocating. He had lived for millennia, seen kingdoms rise and fall, but never had he felt this—vulnerability. It washed over him, a sickening sensation, as if some invisible force was unraveling the carefully guarded walls around his soul.

His hands trembled as memories of Killian surged within him, threatening to undo him. The laughter, the touch, the betrayal. All of it came rushing back. "I won't let it happen again," he growled, though his voice wavered with the fear he couldn't completely suppress.

The chains pulsed, and in the flicker of a heartbeat, Killian's face appeared again, haunting, beautiful, and so distant. "Killian," Alaric whispered, his voice softening for the briefest moment. "Why must you torment me still?"

The witch's piercing gaze locked onto him, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "*You call for your little pet? How amusing,*" she mocked, her voice dripping with disdain. "*But he is not here to save you now. You are alone, Alaric, trapped in a cage again.*"

Alaric felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the depth of his situation. The walls of his immortality were closing in, and for the first time in centuries, he felt a pang of true fear. The idea of being controlled again, of being stripped of his freedom and forced to submit to the will of another, ignited a primal terror within him. He was meant to be a force of chaos, not a prisoner bound by chains of magic.

"You can't do this!" he roared, voice raw with desperation. "I am Alaric Drakemont, immortal and unyielding! Son of Seraphina Nightbane! I will not be your puppet!" But as the witch raised her hands, summoning more magic to reinforce the seal, he could feel the strength of her power surging against him, amplifying his sense of helplessness.

The hunters surrounded him, their expressions a mix of satisfaction and wariness, but he could sense their uncertainty. They had witnessed his cruelty, his strength, and now they stood on the precipice of something they couldn't fully comprehend. Alaric was not merely a beast to be hunted; he was a force of nature, a predator whose very essence thrived on chaos and fear.

"*This is not the end,*" he promised himself, heart pounding. "*I will find a way to escape, and when I do, you will all pay for underestimating me.*"

As the witch's incantation reached its climax, a blinding flash of light engulfed Alaric. The air crackled with power, and he felt an overwhelming wave of energy wash over him, yanking him from reality. His vision blurred, and the world faded away as darkness enveloped him, drawing him into a deep, unyielding slumber.

When Alaric's consciousness slipped into the void, it was as if time itself stood still. His last coherent thought was a desperate plea for Eric, but it faded quickly as the magic's influence took hold. He succumbed to the spell, his body going limp, surrendering to the witch's overwhelming might.

Elias finally stepped forward to survey the scene. He watched as Alaric's form fell gracefully to the ground, limbs relaxing as if he were a doll with its strings cut. The hunters around him shifted uneasily, exchanging glances of both triumph and apprehension. They had subdued the legendary immortal, yet a lingering sense of dread hung in the air—what darkness lay within the beautiful shell they had captured?

The leader knelt, carefully cradling Alaric in his arms. He marveled at the sight before him: the once-feared creature, now reduced to a sleeping angel. Alaric's alabaster skin seemed to glow, and his delicate features were softened in slumber. His long, white hair cascaded over his shoulders, shimmering like spun silver in the daylight. For a fleeting moment, the hunter forgot the malevolence that had once radiated from Alaric; instead, he saw only the ethereal beauty of a being untouched by the cruel world.

"*Look at him,*" he said, voice low and reverent. "*He's like a fallen star, isn't he?*"

The other hunters nodded, a mixture of awe and wariness in their expressions. The leader shifted Alaric's weight in his arms, adjusting to the immortal's unexpected lightness. Despite the strength that had once emanated from him, Alaric now felt deceptively fragile, as if he were nothing more than a dream held too tightly.

Yet, beneath the surface beauty lay the ominous power they had just subdued. The leader's thoughts raced as he considered the implications of capturing such a creature. "*We have him now,*" he said, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders. "*But we must remain vigilant. We cannot underestimate him.*"

As Alaric lay in his arms, the leader could sense the potential for chaos that simmered just beneath the surface of the immortal's serene appearance. The stories of the destruction Alaric had brought upon the world coursed through his mind—villages burned, blood spilled, and the screams of countless victims echoing in his ears. It was a darkness he could not forget, and yet here he was, cradling the embodiment of that terror.

"*He is more than just a monster,*" the leader murmured, glancing back at his fellow hunters. "*He is a force of nature. We must keep him contained, for our own sake.*"

The witch, hovering nearby with her glowing eyes still radiating power, regarded the scene with a satisfied smile. She had brought him low, her spell successfully wrapping around Alaric like a shroud, suppressing the wild chaos that lay within him. "*He will suffer for all he has done,*" she proclaimed, her voice dripping with triumph. "*He is no longer your enemy, but he will be our weapon against those who dare to cross us.*"

The leader nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. They had the immortal at their mercy; they could wield his power, bend it to their will. But as he gazed down at Alaric's beautiful, serene face, unease prickled at the back of his mind.

"*Let's move him to the stronghold,*" he commanded, lifting Alaric gently but firmly into his arms. "*We must keep him away from prying eyes until we are ready to unveil our plan. No one must know he is here.*"

As the hunters carefully maneuvered through the bloodied town ,the witch's voice echoed in the clearing, sharp and commanding. "*We cannot let the immortal's little pet escape.*" She gestured with a flick of her wrist, her red hair swirling around her like tendrils of fire. "*I sense from the seal he is bound to Alaric in ways we cannot yet comprehend. Find him and bring him to me.*"

The leader nodded, his eyes narrowing as he took in the words.

"*Spread out!*" Elias shouted, his voice steady but laced with tension. "*We need to find him before he can alert anyone or slip away into the shadows. No stone unturned—this is our only chance.*"

The hunters broke off into smaller groups, their boots crunching over the fallen leaves and twigs as they fanned out in different directions. Each step echoed with determination, a mix of anxiety and excitement coursing through them. They moved with practiced stealth, aware that the slightest noise could alert their quarry.

The witch remained behind, she closed her eyes and focused her energy, channeling the bond between Alaric and Eric. She could sense the tether that connected them—a pulsating thread of magic that throbbed in time with their heartbeats.She could sense the man's potential at being an even greater catastrophe than Alaric and that thought itself frightened her beyond belief.For the last man Eric was ever close to ,brought kings of both supernatural and human beings to his knees and he was only but a mere human.

____

The first group of hunters took to the forest's edge, scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. One of them, a seasoned tracker named Grayson, paused, narrowing his eyes as he knelt to the ground and sensed his surroundings. He gestured to his companions, signaling them to follow him. "*This way. I think I know where he is.*"