Until the Last Drop of My Blood (The Legends Saga #1)

Chapter 1

This chapter is dedicated to InoSenzia , the first to back my book years ago-clearly a fan of both risky investments and my questionable writing decisions!
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What's scarier than facing death in this realm is marriage.

I watched the old man in front of me slowly losing his grasp on life. He had deeply lined, weathered skin and sparse, silver-white hair. His once bright eyes, now dim and weak, gazed at his wife with loving affection. His pale lips stretched into a smile as his eyes slowly closed.

Beside him, a woman his age screamed in agony, surely not from physical pain. Her faded blue gown was now soiled from the floor. She knelt on the rough and cold ground where her husband's body lay, embracing him tightly as if to prevent his soul from slipping away. The dark brown cloak of the man, with slightly frayed and worn-out edges, was dampened by the woman's tears.

She shook her head frantically as she held the pale face of the man in her trembling hands, "It's okay... It's okay," her voice growing weaker by the second.

I slipped my hands into the pockets of my flowing, dark black dress with a subtle woven pattern and tried to look away while waiting.

"I'm dying with you." My heart clenched at the agony in her voice. Her wet eyes gazed hopelessly at me for a moment before returning to her husband's lifeless body. Strands of her long, white hair clung to her wet face.

Resting her head on his chest, she held his cold, pale hands tightly as she spoke, "He once told me he was afraid of dying." I could barely hear her voice anymore. "It's okay. You won't be alone. You..." Until I couldn't hear even a whisper, not even a single breath. The last drop of her tears fell on her husband's blackened chest.

Light flickered at their back, a symbol of their marriage engraved into their souls and skin. A symbol that tied their heartbeats together.

I pursed my lips.

What I'm ashamed to admit is that I never fully understood why descendants enter into marriage when this is the price they have to pay. They know death waits at their doorstep as soon as they sign their souls away. They might love each other, but they could have been content with just that. They could have loved each other without digging their own graves—without marriage. But mortals in this realm seem to lack common sense when it comes to love.

Marriage binds lives. You die, your other half dies too. People do it for love, but in rare cases, some greedy descendants do it for more power. Marrying someone grants access to their magic, sharing your magic with each other. If you're already powerful as a descendant, you'll be more powerful when you marry. But still, it seems like something only a fool would do, or maybe... I just don't understand the concept enough because I've never been that deeply connected with anyone special, aside from Kalid and Luke, my brothers.

I knelt and looked down at the two cold bodies, holding each of their wrists. I whispered in a strange language, "May your souls find peace in the journey to the afterlife," and their bodies turned to ashes, carried away by a sudden gust of wind.

I stood and donned my cloak hanging on a brown, wooden chair. The thick garment, the color of midnight, flowed down to my ankles. The large hood covered my face while still allowing my eyes to peer through. At the neckline was a round, tarnished metal clasp holding the cloak securely in place.

I grabbed the small bag of jades from the sturdy wooden table and slipped it into the large, worn pocket of the cloak.

I had come here to deliver a potion the deceased woman had bought from me, hoping to strengthen her lover's life force, but to no avail. She was desperate enough to beg me to make the potion despite my warnings that it wouldn't work. Dark magic doesn't heal; it's more likely to harm. Also, association with someone using dark magic could lead to imprisonment, but she was willing to take the risk, and I did my best to make it work. I had used only herbs to craft the potion, but it would not activate without mixing in my blood—my blood was dark magic.

Another reason I accepted the woman's request was to earn enough jades to trade for the Nightfern I failed to obtain last week. Each Nightfern exists in a different forest, though some forests lack it entirely. Nightfern is just rare and difficult to find.

I started walking out of their small hut, mindful of the quiver slung on my back. For shameful reasons, I couldn't let it out of my sight.

Walking farther from the house, I passed countless descendants on the way home, thankful they were minding their own business.

The brown cobblestone street is lined with a mix of mossy timber-framed houses and stalls filled with various goods: spices, enchanted herbs, spells, and more. Another part of the market sells enchanted amulets for specific purposes, particularly for protection from malevolent spirits.

Children run across the streets, laughing and playing, unaware of how cruel this realm can be.

Merchants shout from here to there, but their voices sound like a warm breeze. Craftsmen are also lingering around, displaying their skills to passersby that I even flinched slightly when one suddenly summoned a fire that nearly caught my cloak, but it transformed into a shining gold sword, in a matter of seconds. I shook my head when the craftsman tried to persuade me into purchasing it. Some were also practicing their magic, as not all magic-bearers knew how to wield it.

Dominating the skyline, the palace, where the king, the mortal ruler of this kingdom, resides, stood like a protective guardian looming over the entire kingdom, making the houses look very small. Its pinnacle almost disappeared into the clouds.

This is the kingdom where the descendants of Valor, the Keeper of the terrestrial realm, live, though other kingdoms exist aside from this. Descendants possessed magic drawn directly from the Keepers; some could create protective shields of thorns that harmed intruders, heal, or control the forest at will, just like what the man who nearly killed me last week did. Regardless, countless magic skills descendants possessed, some not yet discovered. Some, I still don't know.

A man my age smiled at me. I suddenly got nervous but I was sure he couldn't see me at this angle so I maintained my composure and walked straight, not smiling back. I don't want to be associated with descendants who want me dead. I'm being hunted like a criminal throughout the realm. This is why I always carry my cloak. But hiding under some clothes doesn't always work.

"Papa! Look at her amulet! It's beautiful! Could you get it for—?" The tiny girl's voice in front of me, just looking at the amulet around my neck, faltered when our eyes met. Her eyes immediately filled with terror. "The... the witch! The witch!" The high-pitched scream caught the descendants' attention.

I cursed under my breath as chaos broke in, and I was sent flying by someone into a hard and rough wall.