House of Broken Vows
- Reads 4,707
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- Parts 18
MatureOngoing1h 4m
Last published Mon, Mar 3, 2025
"Tell me, Arisa, how do you feel dying for a man that never loved you?"
Sara's taunting words pierced me in a way that her teeth never would. It was true. Yet the worst part was, that I already knew. Kaname never saw me as a lover. At most, I was a usable chess piece in his game. Right now, he is probably rescuing Yuuki from whatever trouble she got herself in. While I die at Sara's hands.
It made my stomach churn to think how much I sacrificed myself for them. Turning to the side, I coughed blood. Black dots covered my vision. Sara stood by my side, her eyes, surprisingly, showed sadness.
"Purebloods share a sad fate. Because we are the same, I'll tell you this: your mistake was being innocent. Believing he would eventually come to love you. In the end, you were a pall in another's game. Just like I once was. Shame on you to not have realized this sooner."
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The night bled silver, a wound of moonlight seeping through the tattered sky. The remnants of battle lay strewn about-bodies broken, crimson pearls glistening in the cold kiss of the stars. And she, Zero, stood amidst the ruin, her breath shallow, her ribs heaving against the corset of pain that bound her. The scent of blood clung to her skin, and in its heady perfume, betrayal unfurled like a winter rose. Kaname watched her, his dark eyes fathomless, as though carved from the night itself. There had never been warmth in them, only the elegant cruelty of a chess master contemplating his final move. How exquisite she had been, poised unknowingly at the center of his board, a piece moved by unseen hands, guided by threads of destiny spun long before her first heartbeat. And yet, it had all been a lie. Not his love, never his love-only the silence that shrouded it, the deception that bound it in chains of duty. Her fingers curled against her palms, nails biting into flesh. The truth had unraveled within her, a slow, unrelenting poison creeping through her veins. She had not been his beloved, not the moon to his ceaseless tide-she had been a pawn, a vessel, a means to his grand, imperious end. A fate woven long before she could resist before she could be anything other than his tragic muse. "Was there ever a moment," she whispered, her voice a wisp of smoke in the cold air, "when I was real to you?"
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