Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 154: Oath in The Water

Inside the Healing bath hall of House Elarin air heavied with steam and silence, both rising in slow spirals across the room’s domed ceiling.

Golden sconces flickered across mosaic tiles, their reflections dancing on the surface of the healing pool like firelight on glass.

The scent of jasmine and mineral salts hung in the warm air, soothing and sharp all at once.

The water itself rippled with barely a whisper.

Velrosa was already in the pool, her body half-submerged, arms resting on the stone edge, silver hair loosely piled atop her head in a lazy knot, strands falling in soaked spirals down her neck.

Water clung to her skin with a kind of reverence—droplets lingered like they refused to let her go.

The top of her breasts just kissed the surface of the pool, a sensual curve exposed above the steam, yet her expression remained void of vanity.

She gazed into the distance, quiet and far away.

Then came the footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Echoing on the smooth stone floor.

Ian entered, dressed in dark trousers and a simple tunic, both still bearing faint dust from the training yards.

He stopped not far from the water’s edge, gaze resting upon her—not as a man lusting, but as one with other burdens. One’s harder to name.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

"You called me," Ian said first, his voice low, neither cold nor warm.

Velrosa turned her head, just slightly. "Yes."

She shifted, water curling around her shoulders. "I still struggle to understand it."

"Understand what?"

"The bond you share with the siblings." Her voice was flat, her gaze unreadable. "What are they to you, really?"

Ian’s shoulders relaxed slightly. "There is no bond. I found them in Blackfall. They helped me a few times. I helped them. Grew fond of them enough not to kill them in the Reach."

Velrosa raised an eyebrow. "And yet you brought them here."

"Coming to Esgard was their choice, not mine. Fighting under you—also their choice."

Velrosa’s expression didn’t shift, but something behind her eyes stirred. "I see," she said, quietly. "I suppose that tracks."

Ian sighed.

The tension between them was never sharp. It was just slightly heavy, like something buried beneath a long while of silence.

He walked forward, removing his boots with a quiet thud, rolling his trousers to his knees before lowering himself onto the edge of the pool.

The warmth of the healing water licked his calves like silk fire. A slow breath left his lungs. He turned to look at her again—at how still she remained.

"You don’t trust them?" he asked.

She scoffed. "Ofcoures not, I barely trust anyone." Her fingers idly skimmed the surface of the water. "But that’s not why I asked."

She tilted her head back slightly. "The Crucible demands blood. Always has. It devours the unworthy, the careless, and even the brave and strong. They all fall. All except you. You and you alone."

"You’re saying they’ll die?" Ian asked, more as a statement than a question.

"All eventually do on that sand," Velrosa said. "I want to know how much their lives mean to you."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Ian spoke, voice hollow. "As much as anyone else’s—nothing."

Velrosa turned to him fully, smiling faintly. "Even mine?" freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"Yes," he answered too quickly. As if speaking the lie with enough conviction would make it true. As if saying it aloud would free him from it.

Velrosa only nodded, her eyes unreadable. "The easiest lies to tell," she murmured, "are the ones we tell ourselves."

He didn’t respond.

"I know you swore the oath," she said after a pause. "To save your life more than mine. I know all of that."

Ian turned his head, watching her now with the kind of focus he reserved for blades.

"But even so," she continued, floating closer in the water, her bare shoulders glistening beneath the lamplight, "you stayed. When you could have fled. They wanted you to leave me in that trial. You didn’t. You could’ve carved your way past the Church and vanished. You didn’t."

"So what if the oath was also to save you?" he said. "Why does that matter now?"

"I’m not sure," Velrosa replied. She was closer now, only inches away. Her voice softer. "I guess it just felt nice... to know."

Ian studied her face.

He had seen her roar in courts and command in gatherings. But this version of her—quiet, stripped of political armor and artifice—was unfamiliar.

It unsettled him.

Then, with no warning, Velrosa raised herself from the water.

From the waist up, she emerged—nude, proud, unwavering. The water clung to the curve of her waist, trickled over the swell of her breasts. And yet, Ian’s gaze never dropped.

His eyes met hers, steady and hard.

Every time—those eyes. They always held him.

She reached behind him slowly, drawing one of his daggers from the swath of cloth folded near the edge. Vowbreaker.

The weapon gleamed like bone dipped in ink.

"You know the origins of the Demon Subjugation Oath?" she asked.

Ian nodded faintly.

"It wasn’t always for Emperors and High Priests," she said. "Long ago, it was sworn between warriors—equals. Brothers. Sisters. Friends. It meant you’d protect each other from demons, even at the cost of your own life. Because the demons dying was all that mattered."

She turned the blade in her hand. "Over time, the oath changed. Became one-sided. Soldiers swore it to protect the Church. The Empire. The crowned. But the crowned no longer swore it back."

Then, without hesitation, she drew the blade across her palm. Blood welled up, red and rich and hot.

"Let’s complete it," she said, holding the bleeding hand out to him.

Ian stared at her, then leaned forward and tasted the blood. It was metallic. Alive.

Velrosa’s voice rang out like a solemn rite. "In the name of Ian Night."

Something shifted. The air. The water. The room itself seemed to hum. A tether formed—seen or unseen, it bound them.

"You’d kill your kind for me?" Ian asked quietly.

"I will," she said. "If anyone ends your life, it will be me alone."

"Yes," Ian whispered. "I’d be the one who kills you."

Velrosa smiled, a slow, sharp curve of lips. She dropped the dagger beside him with a metallic clink and dipped her bleeding hand into the healing water.

"Then it’s settled."

Ian watched the red swirl and dissolve. He exhaled, uncertain. "The thing is... I don’t know what’s real with you. You’re always so calculated. So conniving."

"Because that’s what the world demands from me." Her tone held no apology.

"But not me," he said, eyes narrowing. "So that day—why did you do it?"

She knew what he referred to.

The kiss.

Velrosa was silent a moment, then answered, "To see what I’d feel."

"And?"

She looked down. Her voice was quieter than ever. "Fear. Obligation."

Then she turned from him, submerging deeper into the water until only her head remained above the surface. Steam rose in veils.

"I won’t fail you, Ian. I swear it."

The light flickered across the water.

Outside the wind howled faintly across the manor walls, but in this chamber, only their words remained—soft, sharp, and unforgettable.