Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 163: Bloodline Bound

(POV Velka)

I stood motionless in the quiet dormitory, heart thundering in my chest long after Elyzara, Mara, and Elira had disappeared through the grand, arched doorway. The air felt colder now, emptier, as though their presence had left a vacuum behind, a silence thick enough to suffocate.

I couldn't shake the hollow feeling gnawing at my insides a restlessness that prickled beneath my skin, whispering that something wasn't quite right. The shadows seemed longer, darker, stretching like skeletal fingers across the worn stone floor, reminding me of the unease curling tightly inside my chest.

With a sigh, I moved toward Elyzara's bedside table, half expecting her ridiculous enchanted hairbrush or sarcastic talking mirror to leap out and mock my unease. I picked up a small, ornate mirror she'd left behind. My reflection stared back, pale and wary, eyes sharp as polished rubies.

"You're getting paranoid," I muttered, my voice sounding absurdly loud in the silent room. "It's just a prophecy. No big deal, right?"

My reflection didn't respond thankfully. At least my sanity was still intact. Probably.

Then again, sanity was quickly becoming a distant memory since Elyzara stormed into my life, dragging chaos, questionable decisions, and a suspiciously endearing dragon behind her.

I set the mirror down, frowning as my fingers brushed something cool and metallic. It was an old silver locket, partially hidden beneath Elyzara's pillow. Curiosity prickled at the edge of my mind. I opened it carefully, revealing an intricate engraving a rune I immediately recognized. Ancient, vampiric, powerful. It hummed faintly under my touch, a subtle pulse of magic waking at my presence.

And before I could react, the world shifted.

The room spun wildly around me, shadows blurring into a dizzying swirl of darkness and starlight. My vision fractured, reality crumbling away, replaced by an unfamiliar scene. Cold wind bit harshly at my skin, bringing with it the scent of fire and distant storms.

When my sight finally cleared, I was standing in a vast chamber lit by flickering torches, shadows dancing across stone walls draped in deep crimson velvet. A throne sat imposing and majestic, carved from obsidian and inlaid with silver runes. And upon it sat a woman whose presence commanded the very air itself.

Her silver hair cascaded in elegant waves around regal shoulders, her posture unwaveringly proud, eyes mismatched—amber and ice-blue, unmistakably Elyzara's. Yet older, more intense, infinitely more dangerous.

Beside her stood… me.

A version of me I did not recognize, draped in shimmering midnight robes embroidered with patterns of blood-red roses. Her my expression was calm but determined, crimson eyes blazing with quiet strength. My counterpart stepped forward, addressing Elyzara's ancient double with a voice clear and steady.

"Do you accept the terms of the blood pact, Empress?"

The ancient Elyzara tilted her head slowly, expression unreadable. "And bind our souls for eternity, Princess Velka? To repeat this cycle endlessly, until the prophecy is fulfilled?"

My ancient self nodded solemnly, eyes softening almost imperceptibly. "Until the crown awakens once more."

"Then yes," Elyzara murmured, voice like silk wrapped around steel, quiet yet resolute. "Our fates are now bound through blood, magic, and time itself."

Their hands met, fingers interlacing as intricate crimson runes seared into their palms, binding them irrevocably. Magic surged fiercely around them, burning bright as a dying star, sealing their destinies together.

My heart lurched violently in my chest. The image fractured again, shattering like fragile glass, and reality reasserted itself with brutal clarity. I gasped sharply, stumbling backward, nearly collapsing against the bed. My head spun violently, pulse racing in confusion and panic.

A voice echoed suddenly in my mind a voice strangely familiar, sarcastic yet soothingly calm.

[Welcome, Velka Nightthorn. Took you long enough.]

I froze, eyes wide. "Who are you?"

[I'm the one who's had the misfortune of living inside Elyzara's head for years,] the voice drawled dryly. [We both deserve medals for putting up with her.]

My heart skipped, breath catching sharply. "The system. Elyzara's sarcastic magical conscience?"

[Something like that,] it replied casually. [Though I prefer 'all-knowing, infinitely patient guide.']

"You're humble," I muttered, rubbing my forehead. "What are you doing in my head?"

[Technically, you're in mine. Or, rather, in a shared mental space because of your blood pact.]

My pulse quickened painfully. "Blood pact? You mean the vision was that real?"

[Very real,] the system said gravely. [You and Elyzara have been trapped in this cycle for centuries. Born, bound, and reborn repeatedly, until the prophecy fulfills itself.]

A cold shiver raced down my spine, dread coiling tighter in my chest. "What prophecy?"

The voice hesitated briefly, its tone turning surprisingly gentle. [The first Empress of Velmoria Elyzara's ancestor bound herself in magic to a powerful vampire princess to ensure her line's survival. A cycle of rebirth. Each reincarnation must face the same threats, until the crown finally remembers its true heir.]

I swallowed hard, mind spinning wildly. "So we're cursed?"

[Think of it more like inconveniently soul-bound,] it sighed dryly. [I'm just the unwilling narrator.]

I sat heavily on the bed, head throbbing painfully. "Does Elyzara know?"

[Not yet,] the voice admitted softly. [She suspects, but the full truth could be dangerous. She might decide to handle destiny by melting half the continent.]

"Typical," I muttered weakly, unable to suppress a faint smile.

The system chuckled faintly, its tone oddly comforting. [She grows on you.]

I sighed heavily, shaking my head. "What happens now?"

[You decide. But beware the cycle is nearing its peak again. Elyzara's mothers sense it. That's why they summoned her.]

I frowned deeply, worry twisting sharply in my chest. "And if the prophecy fulfills itself this time?"

[Then the cycle breaks, and you both become something entirely new. Or you destroy yourselves. Prophecies are notoriously vague.]

"Wonderful," I groaned bitterly, rubbing my temples. "We're trapped in an endless cycle of dramatic choices."

[I told you,] it said mildly. [She grows on you.]

I took a shaky breath, gathering my thoughts. "Why tell me this? Why not Elyzara?"

The voice softened again, gentle and understanding. [Because she trusts you, and I trust her judgment even when she's being an overly emotional disaster.]

I laughed despite myself, warmth blooming gently in my chest. "I'll take that as a compliment."

[You should.]

I rose unsteadily to my feet, determination settling like armor around my shoulders. "Then I'll find her. I need to"

My vision swam suddenly, darkness creeping at the edges. The room tilted violently beneath me. I stumbled, knees buckling as my strength drained suddenly from my limbs.

[Careful,] the voice warned urgently. [The ritual's magic it's stronger than I anticipated.]

Too late. My knees hit the floor, head spinning as blackness consumed my vision.

As I collapsed, consciousness slipping swiftly away, I saw my reflection in the mirror only this time, the shadows parted briefly to reveal an ancient symbol glowing vividly on my skin. The vampiric rune seared crimson and brilliant, illuminating my pale skin.

The mark of my bloodline.

The mark of the pact.

The last thought flickering through my fading mind was painfully clear: whatever awaited Elyzara at the palace, it was far more dangerous than any prophecy or throne of flames.

And now, bound by blood and magic, our fate rested entirely in the hands of the most chaotic girl I'd ever met.

Stars help us all.

I awoke to the faint scent of lavender and old parchment, and the unmistakable feeling of something soft cradling my head. Warmth pulsed gently at my fingertips, as if my own blood was humming to an invisible rhythm.

The floor was cold beneath me, but someone had placed a folded cloak under my neck. I blinked slowly, groggy and disoriented, eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight flickering above me. My limbs felt leaden, my tongue thick in my mouth, and the memory of what had just happened shimmered at the edge of consciousness too vivid to be a dream, too strange to be real. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

And then I noticed it.

The burning mark on the inside of my left wrist.

A vampiric rune.

Ancient, delicate, and unmistakably mine.

It glowed faintly under the candlelight—crimson threads coiled into a spiral of thorns and stars, wrapping around my veins like a secret I was never meant to forget. And just below it, barely visible to the naked eye, shimmered a second symbol—one I recognized from the mirror. Velmorian imperial script.

I gasped, breath catching hard in my throat.

Two bloodlines. Intertwined.

"Well, that explains the dramatic dreams," I whispered shakily, staring at my wrist. "I'm a walking magical contract."

[Technically,] said the system cheerfully inside my mind, [you're a sealed relic of ancient prophecy doomed to orbit an emotionally volatile flame princess until destiny stops playing ping-pong.]

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the cloak. "Can I return myself for store credit?"

[No refunds,] the system replied smugly. [You broke the seal. Congratulations. You're legacy-bound.]

I exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling.

Velka Nightthorn, blood of ancient vampiric queens. Soul-bound to Elyzara Thorne, imperial heir of flaming dramatics.

And somewhere out there, she was being escorted back to the palace by her overbearing, terrifyingly competent mothers.

Great.

I dragged myself up on one elbow and muttered to the empty room, "I am going to need so much garlic bread to deal with this."

And possibly a helmet.

Preferably flameproof.