Dc: Blood Of The Quincy King

Chapter 3: Demon Tower

No One's POV

The room was eerily quiet, the air heavy with an unsettling presence. The walls, made of rough stone, seemed to absorb the dim torchlight, casting long, flickering shadows. In the center of the room, a large stone tablet stood, and upon it lay a young man, bound and gagged. His body trembled as he struggled against the ropes, his muffled cries of fear echoing off the walls. Tears streamed down his face, but his captors remained unfazed, their cold gazes fixed on the task at hand.

Surrounding him were seven figures, hooded and cloaked in black, chanting in Latin, their voices deep and rhythmic, weaving a dark spell into the air. The atmosphere thickened with each word, as if the very room was coming alive with the malice of their ritual.

The door creaked open, and another figure entered. Unlike the others, his cloak bore accents of red, signifying his authority. In his hand, he held a dagger, its blade glinting menacingly in the faint light. The young man’s eyes widened in horror, and his struggling grew more frantic, but it was no use. He was trapped.

The hooded figure approached the stone tablet, his footsteps echoing with a slow, deliberate cadence. The chanting reached a fever pitch as he stood over the helpless boy. Without hesitation, he plunged the dagger into the young man's chest. A sickening sound filled the chamber, and the boy's body convulsed, his life force draining away.

The cloaked figure looked up, a hidden smile stretching beneath his hood.

"He shall rise again," the man whispered, his voice filled with fervor. "My glorious king, you shall rise and take this world."

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POV Change: Nero

Nero jolted awake, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just broken the surface after being submerged underwater. His breathing was heavy, his body slick with sweat. His hand instinctively reached to his side, finding the familiar weight of Didi resting against him. Death herself, curled up and asleep like a cat, had made a habit of visiting him like this since he was seventeen.

He was used to her presence, but not to the dreams—nightmares, really—that had been haunting him for the past few months. They always followed the same pattern: the chanting, the ritual, the sacrifice. And always, always, the mention of someone rising again.

Nero wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to shake the remnants of the dream. He glanced toward the window, where the first hint of dawn had yet to touch the horizon. It was still dark, the air cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside his mind.

It had been a month since Raven had moved in, and while they had settled into something resembling a routine, these nightmares had become increasingly frequent. His connection to the Quincy bloodline had always come with its own burdens, but this... this felt different. Darker.

He glanced down at Didi, who was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the inner storm brewing inside him.

"What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath, his mind racing. He could feel it—something was coming, and it wasn't just the demons they’d been fighting.

Something much worse.

Nero sighed and settled back into bed, trying to push the lingering dread of his dream away. Didi, still asleep beside him, instinctively pulled him closer, her presence offering a strange sense of comfort despite her connection to death. He closed his eyes, letting the calmness of the moment wash over him, though the haunting images from his dream still lingered at the edge of his mind.

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Raven's POV

The night was still, the silence only broken by the sharp sound of claws slashing through the air. Raven dodged effortlessly, her body moving fluidly as if she were one with the shadows. The lycan growled in frustration, lunging again with deadly force, but it only found itself trapped by the black strings that shot from Raven's fingers, binding the creature tightly.