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Chapter 66: The Memory That Wasn't Mine

Author: VANCIA
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-15 13:17:55

I stepped through the door—and the void swallowed me whole.

There was no threshold, no tangible shift beneath my feet to mark the transition. One moment, I was fleeing down that corridor carved of nightmare and panic, the echo of a scream still caught in the cage of my ribs. The next, all sensation fell away—gravity, direction, breath itself—and I was once again suspended in the same obsidian hush, the dark not simply surrounding me but seeping through me, into me, as if it had been waiting, patient and possessive, for my inevitable return.

The door behind me did not close.

It simply ceased.

And I—fragile and shivering, clutching at the phantom ache where hands had pinned me, where fear had etched itself into the curve of my spine—drifted in that terrible, soundless blackness, paralyzed by the weight of what I had remembered… and what I had not.

I couldn’t tell how long I floated there, if floating was even the right word. Time unraveled in the dark. Seconds folded into minutes folded
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  • THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH   Chapter 66: The Memory That Wasn't Mine

    I stepped through the door—and the void swallowed me whole.There was no threshold, no tangible shift beneath my feet to mark the transition. One moment, I was fleeing down that corridor carved of nightmare and panic, the echo of a scream still caught in the cage of my ribs. The next, all sensation fell away—gravity, direction, breath itself—and I was once again suspended in the same obsidian hush, the dark not simply surrounding me but seeping through me, into me, as if it had been waiting, patient and possessive, for my inevitable return.The door behind me did not close.It simply ceased.And I—fragile and shivering, clutching at the phantom ache where hands had pinned me, where fear had etched itself into the curve of my spine—drifted in that terrible, soundless blackness, paralyzed by the weight of what I had remembered… and what I had not.I couldn’t tell how long I floated there, if floating was even the right word. Time unraveled in the dark. Seconds folded into minutes folded

  • THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH   Chapter 65:When the Void Bleeds Red

    I snapped open my eyes into the absence of light.Not the soft, velvet black of a night sky or the gentle hush of closed eyes in a quiet room, but a swallowing dark—primordial, breathless, alive. It folded around me like an endless curtain, damp and pulsing with a silence so total it throbbed behind my ribs. There was no wind. No ground. No up or down. Only me—and the deafening echo of nothing.I couldn't remember standing, yet somehow I was upright, suspended in that void like a drop of ink suspended in water. My body felt slow, heavy with something I couldn’t name. My arms moved, but not easily, as if time itself had thickened into syrup and I was sinking through it second by second. I opened my mouth to speak, to call out, to scream, but no sound came. Even my voice had abandoned me here.Then I saw her.Far ahead—though distance had little meaning in this place—there was a flicker. A glimmer, almost like light, but red. Luminous and pulsing, the color of raw blood beneath skin. My

  • THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH   Chapter 64: The Heir’s Selection:The Dance Where Wolves Speak Softly

    He bowed.Not deeply—never deeply—but with the exact precision that such a gesture demanded in the company of nobility and illusion. His posture dipped just enough to acknowledge the formality of the moment, just enough to render it a performance of etiquette rather than sentiment. And when he rose again, eyes locked with mine beneath the fractal shimmer of the chandeliers, he extended his hand.Not forcefully. Not urgently.But with the quiet confidence of someone who had already decided how the next moment would unfold.His palm was gloved, dark against the spill of candlelight, and open toward me—not demanding, not coaxing, merely waiting. As though the act of refusal itself would be a disruption of natural law, a thing so unthinkable it simply would not happen.I did not take it.Not yet.I couldn’t. My thoughts were clattering too loudly, slipping through my ribs like panicked birds in a cage. Somewhere far behind him—no more than a dozen feet, yet an entire world away—I saw her.

  • THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH   Chapter 63: The Heir’s Selection: The Dance He Dared to Ask

    I did not mean to look at him—did not want to. The intention was never there, only the inevitable gravity of it, the impossible weight that seemed to curl around my spine and tilt my chin upward before I had the presence of mind to resist it. My gaze flicked upward, brief as a breath held too long and released too suddenly, and in that fragile moment—barely more than a blink—I met his eyes.And the world, for a heartbeat, ceased its turning.Atlas Blackwood stood not ten feet from where I stood frozen, and though there were people all around us, pressing in with polite murmurs and silken laughter and the rustling hush of formalwear sweeping marble floors, I could not hear a single voice, nor see a single face. There was only him, carved in shadow and candlelight, tall and terrifyingly still in his dark maroon tailored coat that gleamed faintly beneath the ballroom's golden glow like it had been stitched from starlight and grave intentions.My breath caught—or perhaps it never made it

  • THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH   Chapter 62: Seen By the One Who Should Not See

    The moment my name passed through Professor Marwood’s mouth, the silence became alive.“Aubrey Sinclair,” he said, not with warmth nor condemnation, but with the impassive gravity of a man delivering a verdict carved in stone. “Of no formal House. Bloodline… unregistered. Ashwood Academy’s first ever admitted Omega.”The words didn’t fall like feathers—they struck like stones.Each syllable felt like it echoed twice, once in the air and once inside my chest, a slow thunder that rolled and reverberated long after the sound itself had faded. My name. My blood. My station. Exposed. Declared. Final. And the crowd—oh, the crowd responded not with noise, but with stillness. With an almost unholy kind of quiet. One born not of reverence, but of recoil.The ballroom, once brimming with candlelight and enchantment, now felt too bright, too sharp. Every shimmering veil and glass of champagne seemed to have frozen mid-breath, caught in the act of pretending that this place—this moment—was untouc

  • THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH   Chapter 61:What a Best Friend Would Never Say Aloud

    Callum’s fingers found mine with the quiet precision of someone used to leading others into danger disguised as duty. His touch was warm, grounding, unshaking. The opposite of me. We stood together beneath the vast golden arch at the very top of the grand staircase—two figures framed by the breathless grandeur of the Moonlit Ball. The world below shimmered like a pageant in amber, gilded and waiting, the ballroom swelling with silence as soon as we stepped forward into the light.I could feel the moment catch.The chandeliers—wrought in twisted glass and phoenix-gold, hovering midair like captured constellations—tilted ever so slightly in our direction, their enchanted filaments flaring brighter as if to anoint us. Magic stirred the air. The ambient hum of violin strings softened to a hush, allowing the crisp tap of a distant heel, the clink of a glass being set too hard against a saucer, to punctuate the stillness like a pin to a balloon. Dozens—no, hundreds—of faces turned upward, t

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