Chapter 5 The Road to the Blood Altar

The first light of dawn had only begun to brighten the eastern sky when the door to Jameson's chamber swung open.

Four Blood Guards entered in perfect formation, their polished armor catching the glow of the morning light spilling in from the corridor. Their expressions were as cold and disciplined as ever, revealing nothing.

The guard leading the group stepped forward with a pair of black iron shackles resting in his hands.

Jameson looked at them for a brief moment before quietly extending his wrists. There was no point resisting. He had accepted long ago that his fate was no longer his own.

The iron cuffs closed around his wrists with a sharp metallic click.

"Come with us," the guard said.

Jameson gave a silent nod and followed them out of the room.

The eastern quarters had already come to life. Servants stood in orderly lines along both sides of the corridor with their heads respectfully lowered as the procession passed. Although no one dared to speak, Jameson could feel countless eyes watching him.

Some faces reflected quiet sympathy.

Others betrayed relief that someone else had been chosen in their place.

No one offered a farewell nor dared to break the silence.

Escorted by the guards, Jameson descended the grand staircase leading to the entrance hall. Every doorway, corridor, and balcony was heavily guarded. Blood Guards stood shoulder to shoulder with polished silver spears in their hands, ensuring that not even the smallest opportunity for escape existed.

The enormous front doors slowly swung open.

A rush of cold morning air swept into the manor, carrying with it the scent of pine trees and damp earth.

Outside, an impressive procession waited in the courtyard.

Several black carriages bearing the crest of House Valerius stood in a neat line while dozens of mounted Blood Guards surrounded them on every side. Horses stamped their hooves against the stone as they waited for the signal to depart.

At the center of the formation stood a larger carriage unlike the others.

Its polished doors were engraved with a symbol Jameson recognized immediately from the High Council's seal.

A single drop of blood rested beneath an ancient crown.

One of the guards stepped forward and opened the carriage door.

"The offering rides here."

Jameson climbed inside without hesitation. The thick wooden door closed behind him, shutting out the sounds of the courtyard.

Moments later, the carriage lurched forward as the procession began its journey.

For a long while, neither the guards nor the driver spoke.

Jameson sat quietly before pulling back one corner of the curtain to look outside.

Blackstone Manor slowly disappeared behind them.

Those towering walls had been his entire world for twenty years. Every memory he possessed had been shaped within them. As a boy, he had often imagined walking beyond those gates to discover what lay outside.

He had simply never imagined leaving as a prisoner on his way to become a sacrifice.

The road stretched through a vast forest where towering black pines blocked much of the early sunlight. Their branches formed a dark canopy overhead, leaving patches of shadow across the winding path. Mounted guards rode ahead of the procession while others remained behind, their watchful eyes constantly scanning the surrounding woods.

The journey was strangely quiet.

No merchants traveled the road.

No farmers worked nearby fields.

No villages appeared in the distance.

It seemed as though every traveler had been ordered to stay away long before the procession began.

Hours passed before the forest gradually gave way to open countryside.

As Jameson looked ahead, he noticed another procession approaching from the opposite direction.

Their banners were different.

Instead of the crimson crest of House Valerius, these banners displayed a silver wolf standing proudly against a field of deep blue.

Another noble house.

The two groups slowed as they passed one another.

Jameson's attention was immediately drawn to the center of the approaching procession.

There, surrounded by armed guards, traveled another black carriage nearly identical to his own. Its windows were tightly covered by heavy curtains, preventing anyone from seeing the person inside.

Jameson continued watching until the other procession disappeared beyond the trees.

No explanation was necessary.

House Valerius was not the only family sending an offering to the Blood Altar.

Every great house across the Crimson Dominion was honoring the same ancient tradition.

A heavy feeling settled inside his chest.

For so long, he had believed this fate belonged to him alone.

Now he understood that countless others were traveling the same road, each carrying someone who had been chosen for the same terrible purpose.

By midday, the landscape began to change.

The road climbed steadily into the mountains, and the air grew noticeably colder with every passing mile. Ancient stone pillars appeared along the roadside, each carved with strange symbols that had been weathered by centuries of wind and rain. Though many of the markings had faded, they still carried an unsettling sense of age and mystery.

Jameson watched them disappear one after another as the carriage continued climbing higher.

Eventually, the horses slowed.

The procession rounded a wide bend in the mountain road, and the sight before him stole his breath.

A colossal fortress stood ahead, built directly into the mountainside.

Its towering black walls rose high above the valley, while crimson banners fluttered from every watchtower. Hundreds of heavily armed soldiers guarded the massive entrance, their disciplined ranks stretching as far as Jameson could see.

Beyond the fortress stood an enormous staircase carved directly into the face of the mountain.

The stone steps climbed endlessly toward a vast platform hidden beneath drifting mist.

Even from this distance, Jameson could make out hundreds of figures gathered at the summit. Nobles dressed in elaborate robes stood beside stern-faced priests, while ranks of Blood Guards maintained perfect order around the ancient platform.

Representatives from every great house across the Crimson Dominion had come to witness the ceremony.

The carriage rolled to a gentle stop.

One of the Blood Guards opened the door and stepped aside.

"We've arrived."

Jameson climbed down onto the cold stone road and drew a slow breath.

The mountain wind bit against his face as he lifted his eyes toward the towering staircase.

Somewhere beyond those ancient steps, hidden within the mist and surrounded by the rulers of the Dominion, the Blood Altar was waiting.

And for the first time since the decree had been announced, Jameson felt that his life was standing at the edge of something far greater than death itself.