Chapter 79: The Bloodline Secret

The morning after the Creed attack felt unreal.

The estate was quiet, too quiet, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Smoke still lingered in the courtyard from the fires we’d barely put out, and every corner seemed haunted by the sound of the alarms from the night before.

But inside the war room, nobody rested.

Ethan sat hunched over his laptop with three empty mugs of coffee in front of him. His hair stuck up in every direction, and I was fairly certain he hadn’t showered since the fight. Elena paced behind him, crossbow slung over her shoulder, muttering curses under her breath every time the floor creaked. Echo leaned against the wall, arms folded, her golden eyes never leaving the window. Callum sat near the door, quiet, chewing on what looked like an old toothpick, though I suspected it was just so he didn’t light another cigarette.

Aidan stood close to me. Close enough that I could feel the heat from his body, though he didn’t touch me. He hadn’t said much since last night, but the weight in his eyes was enough to remind me of the promise he’d made—we fight it together.

And then there was R.

She stood by the table, her gaze fixed on the ancient journal Rhea had been guarding. The golden in her eyes seemed brighter today, sharper, like sunlight reflected off glass.

Finally, Ethan broke the silence. “I’ve been digging through what’s left of Gregory’s drives. Cross-referencing, decrypting, whatever. And… I think I found something. Not from Gregory. Older.”

He spun his laptop around so we could see the screen. An old manuscript filled the page, written in looping handwriting across yellowed parchment. Some of the words were faded, but others were clear enough to sting.

“When the last Harbinger rises, the earth shall tremble, the moon shall weep, and the blood shall call the buried one from the ash. She will not choose her path. The path will choose her.”

The room went silent.

“Great,” Elena muttered after a long pause. “Another creepy prophecy. Just what we needed. You know, I was worried things were starting to make too much sense.”

“Shut up, Elena,” Ethan said automatically.

She glared at him. “Don’t tell me to shut up. You’re the one digging up apocalypse bedtime stories.”

“Because someone has to!” Ethan snapped, slamming his fist against the desk. His voice cracked. “Do you think I like this? Do you think I want to be the guy who finds out my best friend might accidentally end the world because of some bloodline she didn’t ask for?!”

The room went still.

Ethan’s chest heaved, his hands trembling. He looked at me then, his eyes raw. “You didn’t ask for this, Rox. But it’s here. And if we don’t face it, it’ll eat us alive.”

I swallowed hard. “What are you saying?”

“That maybe,” he said softly, “we stop waiting for answers to fall in our laps. Maybe it’s time we go digging ourselves.”

Callum finally spoke from the corner. “You’re suggesting we dig into the Harbinger myths.”

“Yes,” Ethan said.

Callum shook his head slowly. “Those aren’t just myths. They’re dangerous. Whole packs used to kill for scraps of those stories. Some still would.”

“Then let them try,” Elena shot back.

R’s lips curved faintly. “The girl is right. The Harbinger myths are not myths. They are records. Memories written in code, meant to survive when all else was erased. And if you want answers…” She touched the journal. “…you must read what was meant for you.”

Rhea leaned forward, clutching the book closer to her chest. “It’s not just history, is it? It’s instructions.”

R didn’t deny it.

\---

We spent the rest of the day in the library.

Dust coated the shelves, sunlight cutting through the tall windows in pale strips. Rhea laid the journal open across the main table, and we all crowded around, each of us reading the looping script like it might catch fire in our hands.

Elena groaned halfway through. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it—whoever wrote this had terrible handwriting. It’s like they dipped a chicken in ink and let it dance across the page.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “That chicken just predicted the end of the world, so maybe show some respect.”

Aidan leaned over the pages, his voice low. “This section here… it talks about a trial. Something called the Blood Oath.”

I frowned. “Blood Oath?”

R stepped closer, her presence chilling the air. “It is the rite every Harbinger must face. To bind themselves—or break themselves.”

“What happens if they break?” Callum asked.

R didn’t blink. “The earth eats them.”

“Lovely,” Elena muttered. “Just lovely.”

Rhea traced another line with her finger. “It says the Blood Oath can only be taken when the signs align. When the moon bleeds, when the ash stirs, and when the Harbinger calls her own blood.”

Everyone turned to me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said quickly. “I’m not calling anything. I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means,” R said softly, “you will have to decide. Blood does not lie, Roxanne. It remembers. And soon, it will demand to be answered.”

I shoved the journal away, my hands shaking. “I don’t want this. I didn’t ask to be a Harbinger. I didn’t ask for trials or blood oaths or whatever prophecy nonsense this is. I just want to stop Gregory. I just want to protect what’s left.”

“Want has nothing to do with it,” R whispered.

\---

We argued. For hours.

Ethan insisted we needed to translate every page. Elena kept pacing, swearing under her breath and threatening to throw the journal into the fire. Rhea defended it like her life depended on it. Callum warned us about drawing too much attention—packs and hunters would smell this trail if we weren’t careful.

And Aidan… he stayed beside me, steady as stone, his voice calm every time mine threatened to crack.

At one point, Elena snapped at him, “How can you be so damn calm about all this?”

“Because freaking out won’t help Rox,” he said simply.

That shut her up.

For a little while.

\---

By nightfall, my head ached with words. Prophecies. Trials. Bloodlines. All of it looping in my skull like a storm I couldn’t silence.

I slipped out to the balcony for air, only to find Ethan already there. He leaned against the railing, staring out at the fog-draped forest.

“You ever regret staying?” I asked quietly.

He smirked faintly. “Every day. But also never.”

I raised a brow. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Exactly,” he said, sipping from his mug. “Neither does this war. Neither do you.”

Despite everything, I laughed. Just a little. “Thanks, I guess.”

He glanced at me then, his grin fading. “Seriously though, Rox… whatever this Harbinger thing is, don’t let it swallow you. You’re still you. The girl who dragged me out of my own head when all I wanted to do was crawl inside a computer and stay there forever.”

I stared at him. “Ethan—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut in. “Just… promise me. Promise me you’ll fight to stay you.”

I didn’t know how to promise that.

So I just nodded.

And for once, it was enough.

\---

That night, when I finally lay down, I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d sleep.

But I didn’t.

Because sometime past midnight, the air shifted.

Cold. Heavy. Wrong.

I sat up, heart pounding.

And then I saw her.

A figure in the corner of my room, tall and still, golden eyes gleaming like a blade.

R.

But not the R who had stood with us in the library.

This one was older. Sharper. And when she smiled, the air around me seemed to curdle.

Her voice was a whisper I felt in my bones.

“When the moon bleeds, you will bleed with it. When the earth stirs, you will rise or fall. And when your blood calls you… you will answer. Whether you want to or not.”

I tried to move. To speak. But I couldn’t.

And just as suddenly as she’d appeared—she was gone.

Leaving me gasping in the silence.

And knowing that the real test hadn’t even begun.