The Alpha's Blind Fate
Chapter 389: Blood Of Your Blood

Chapter 389: Blood Of Your Blood

ROWAN

"What is that?" Zina asked, staring into the bowl but unflinching at the sight of the blood.

Behind her, Rowan watched as Rose tried to command Gruk into submission, but the Deformed was putting up a bit of a fight, proving to be stubborn.

Rowan averted his eyes from the scene. Sooner or later, Rose would have him down so there was no need for him to concern himself with Gruk in the time being.

Right then before him was the happening of a very impritant event that night just be etched into the annals of history.

"Blood of your blood," he answered, studying her, "just as they are the blood of your blood." He finished, motioning to the piled deformed at the foot of the Oak Tree with a tilt of his head.

"Am I... to drink it?"

"Of course not," Rowan said evasively, "just have to mix your blood in with it." He finished without saying more.

More than forty years ago, the Seven Elder Witches also known as the Witch Seers who were the elite ruling council in the West brought forth a prophecy.

"From the womb of the one who kills her child seven times in her womb shall be born she who will reckon the lost ones. Forceful her birth might be and abandonment the path she must walk, but the powers she will wield must come of her heart.The lost ones will not answer to deceit, so be of great care against the one who might deceive."

When the seven elders interpreted the prophecy, they had already easily pointed out that Ameneris Screamers, even though yet to be born at the time, would be the one who would kill her child seven times in her womb.

Immediately after Ameneris’ seventh miscarriage, they had executed the Screamers Pack for some manufactured treason, and activating the rest of the prophecy was hardly hard.

From abandoning Zina with the greedy and morally depraved WolfKnights to machinating every other misfortune that followed in her life, his Master had made every move adequately.

But now lying before Rowan was the most critical move; the one where he must be sure that Zina was in fact broken as they wanted. She would not be able to awaken the Deformed if there’s deceit in her heart.

It must be of her will through and through. Hence the reason why they had gone through all these motions in the first place.

Putting on a loquacious smile, he handed the bowl of blood to her. "You must mix it with your blood," he explained, "and then you must pour it over them."

"Just that?" She repeated suspiciously.

"Of course. Whereafter they will awaken to this world. And then help you conquer it. Are you will to awaken them?" He asked once more, like an adult training a child.

Those icy light blue eyes narrowed into a challenge. Like she would love nothing more than to awaken them already.

Rowan handed her a dagger which she used to slit her hand without hesitation. The air in the room stilled with anticipation while Rowan felt the beady eyes of his Master behind them.

His master had long been inside the room—crawled and nestled at a corner while he waited as well with bated breath for the power that would also change his life and restore his half form to a full one.

Standing beside his master were the seven elder witches who were contouring a dark spell which was the cream of the deed Zina must do. But they stayed away hidden—doing the background work that none of them couldn’t possibly do.

Rowan heard their chants alright. But Zina remained ignorant to their presence or the sounds they made.

Only if the woman before Rowan knew of the powers her blood contained. The kind of powers even ancient witches would cry and beg for on their knees, then she wouldn’t have resisted her breakthrough for some mediocre life with a man that wouldn’t give her anything more than a pipe dream.

Happy family, a loving husband, and a caring pack; Rowan knew better than anyone that such fantasies were only short lived. One day, they would eventually shatter.

As far as he was concerned, he was doing Zina a favour. Why reduce yourself to serve the world when you can make the world serve you?

Cursed or not; hexed or not; there was no denying that she had lived a dreary life with her being controlled by others. At first it was the WolfKnights, then the late Alpha King who controlled her even in death by bestowing upon her a position that would cost her life, then it was Eldric NorthSteed, and now, it was the man whom she called husband.

Every one of them controlled her in some ways, and Zina should be grateful that her freedom was now finally before her.

Every single drop of her blood against her mother’s blood in the bowl seemed to echo in the room, amplified by Rowan’s rabid hearing.

The whispered chants of the Seven Elder witches stowed away in the shadows of the room, the anticipation in his Master’s breath, the low growling of Gruk who had been taken down, and the strange way the air seemed to blow.

From the small opening somehwere at the far top of the room, the light streaming from the pregnant moon seemed to carry a hue of anticipation as well. Suffice to say, the room was charged, and at the center of it all was the white haired woman whose cut hand oozed blood.

Once again, the important words of the prophecy echoed in Rowan’s mind just as Zina hurled the bowl of the blood and its contents at the stone frozen piled Deformed.

The action was slowed, the way the blood splashed in the air at first before making a slow, torturous descent on the creatures.

One might say that nothing ever looked gory like a group of seemingly dead monsters piled up against an ancient oak tree—both bathed in blood. Hit as far as Rowan was concerned, nothing ever looked quite as beautiful as the scene before him.

A blast of white light came from behind, enshrouding the unmoved monsters. Zina, startled by the sound, whipped her head behind.

"Who are they?" She asked hesitantly. But Rowan didn’t answer, his eyes glued on the Deformeds just as every other person in the room.

Enshrouded by the white light, they should already be moving, awakened by their master. But they didn’t move.

Could they have failed? Was Zina in fact pretending and wasn’t broken? But nothing on her face betrayed that....

Before he could complete that thought, a slimy green colored hand darted up from the pile. And then another hand. And another.

As if controlled by some otherworldly force, Rowan watched in awe as the number of the Deformed began to rise at their awakening. One by one they roused, their once gaunt faces settling into a sneer as spittle fell from between their jaws.

Eyes narrowed as if they couldn’t quite pry it open just like a new born child, they all let out a terrifying screech in one voice even though most of them sat upon each other for lack of coordination.

The scene was simply incredible. Cinematic even.

They hadn’t failed after all—the Deformed were finally awoken, and by none other than Thralgor.

"What next?" She asked from his side, the ice in her eyes holding frost if that were possible.

"Now, we wage a war."