Chapter 192

Hazel's POV

As I stand in the dimly lit chamber, the vial of corrupted blood held delicately between my fingers, I can feel the weight of expectation bearing down upon me. Zion's eyes bore into me with a pensive gaze, his expression unreadable as he observes my every move. The air is heavy with anticipation, charged with the possibility of what is to come.

With a steady hand, I bring the vial to my lips and drink deeply, allowing the thick, viscous liquid to slide down my throat. The taste is metallic, tinged with a hint of something dark and otherworldly. But as the last drop passes my lips, I feel no surge of power, no sudden transformation.

I am not surprised.

I never expected the corrupted blood to grant me any sort of supernatural abilities. My purpose in drinking it was not to gain power, but to align myself with the prophecy, to force my way into its narrative. And in that regard, I believe I have succeeded.

As I lower the vial, I meet Zion's gaze with a sense of calm resolve.