Chapter 1 – The Blood That Chose Me
I never asked for this.
Not the sigil. Not the whisper in my veins. And definitely not the red seal that burned into my chest the night my brother died.
I remember the scent of blood first—his, not mine. Warm, metallic, real. It was raining too, not that the arena gods care about weather. That night was my first offering, even if no one called it that.
They say the Crimson Vein Arena chooses you. Not the other way around. You don’t sign up. You get claimed. And when it calls, you don’t get to say no.
I tried to ignore it. The dreams. The hallucinations. The way my hand started twitching every time I passed a mirror. The way I started hearing my brother’s voice, not like a ghost but like a memory trapped in my marrow.
But then the mark bloomed across my collarbone like a curse, and the door opened.
Literally.
A jagged split across reality, humming with the sound of cracked bone and breathless silence. I walked through before I could talk myself out of it.
And now I’m here. Standing in the outer ring of the arena.
Red sky. Black stone. Every other contender looks either terrified or cocky. I'm neither. I just want answers. And maybe revenge.
That’s when I see her—Lira Veyne.
She’s leaning against the arena wall like the fight hasn't even started yet. Her aura burns silver. Her eyes—cold, calculating—flick to me for a second too long. And in that second, I feel it.
The pull.
The bond I didn’t ask for.
The match I never saw coming.
Chapter 2 – She Who Does Not Bleed
People here bleed too easily.
One wrong glance, one cocky step, and they’re on the ground—wounded, panicking, or dead. It’s predictable. Weak. The arena isn’t kind to the impulsive.
That’s why I don’t fight unless I have to.
Not yet.
Not until the first offering bell tolls.
I lean against the wall of the preparation gate, eyes skimming the new recruits. Some look like they’ve been training for this their whole lives. Others... barely know which way to hold a blade.
And then there’s him.
Rael Kurohane.
He walks in like he’s been dragged here by something he doesn’t understand. Not arrogance. Not fear. Something else. Guilt, maybe. Grief. I’ve seen that look before—in myself.
The mark on his collarbone glows faintly. New blood. Chosen. And yet… his presence cracks the air like thunder. Raw power, tightly leashed. Dangerous, but not wild.
He doesn’t see me watching. Good. That’ll make the first test easier.
“Don’t stare too long,” mutters a voice beside me—Myrr, one of the older contenders. “That one’s got arena scent all over him.”
I don’t look away. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Because here, in this cursed game of blood and soul, I don’t trust anyone who walks in clean. I trust the ones who’ve lost something.
And Rael Kurohane has clearly lost everything.
The bell rings—low, deep, ancient.
Time for the first blood round.
I push off the wall and step into the arena. He does too, thirty paces across. Our eyes meet—really meet—for the first time.
And I realize something I hate instantly.
If the arena doesn’t kill me…
He might.
