THE ONYX TETHER: BLOODLINE

My fingertips trailed softly over the cold glass bottles filled with blood. At that moment, only a single thought echoed in my mind: Revenge. Though it never spilled from my lips, my mind screamed that cursed name over and over, like an open wound: Dane.

Suddenly, I was torn from the dark dream, gasping for air. As I opened my eyes to the pitch-black of my room, the darkness seemed to whisper to me, swaying like an abandoned cradle in an endless void. My fingers drifted to my throat. Every jagged breath I drew scorched my windpipe, making it almost impossible to swallow.

"Just a dream..." I whispered to myself, my voice trembling.

Just a dream.

When the harsh morning sunlight flooded my room, it took several minutes for my squinting eyes to adjust to the glare. Propping myself up on my elbows, I immediately sensed an eerie shift in the room's atmosphere. My gaze caught on the corner of the wall. Gouged into the plaster were deep claw marks—marks impossible for a human to make, and which I was absolutely certain had not been there before.

Were they claw marks? But how could that be? Whatever this thing was, it had crept into my room while I slept, either clinging to the wall or deliberately leaving behind a terrifying signature. Or, there was a much simpler and far more horrifying possibility: I was losing my mind.

I scrambled out of bed and approached the wall, drawn to it as if under a spell. Dropping slowly to my knees, I traced my trembling fingertips along those deep gouges. Just as I leaned my head closer to inspect them, the bedroom door burst open with a deafening crash. My mother swept into the room like a storm, a trail of servants following closely in her wake. She wore that familiar, early-morning irritation on her face; but the moment her eyes landed on the ruined wall, the anger dissolved into sheer, horrified disbelief.

“Cassandra…” she whispered. “What on earth is this?!”

I quickly threw my hands up and backed away. “I didn't do this!”

Though my mother and the maids stood frozen, staring at the savage gouges, my mother soon slipped her mask of aristocratic composure back into place. Shaking her head, she turned to me. “We will discuss this later, young lady.” Then she pivoted to the maid waiting behind her, gesturing to the lavish dress draped over the girl's arms. “We have guests this evening. You had best start preparing immediately,” she commanded, her tone bearing that familiar, unyielding authority.

“But—”

Before I could even finish my protest, my mother spun around on her heels with a sharp click and leveled a warning finger at me. “I will not tolerate a single minute of delay!” And with that, she stormed out as fiercely as she had entered.

My mother and father were fixtures of aristocratic society. They constantly attended galas, hosted magnificent banquets, and executed every ritual expected of a noble family with flawless precision. I, on the other hand, was the one jarring brushstroke in their perfect portrait. For years, my father had longed for a male heir to carry the family name, only to be blessed with two daughters. My elder sister, Aoife, who had just turned twenty-five, was exactly the perfect child my parents had always dreamed of. She woke early every morning, strictly followed her impeccably planned schedule, and represented our family at social events with the grace of a swan.

And me... I was the rebellious, mischievous girl with perpetually bruised knees, the one who ran wild through the woods and inspected frogs with Christian, a boy I’d known since I was nine. Aoife was so breathtakingly beautiful that she turned the heads of every man around her, yet she paid them no mind. Though my parents were secretly anxious about this, they couldn't bring themselves to force her into a marriage. For, as you well know, to be a twenty-five-year-old unmarried woman in this era meant you were "too late." And, tragically, this ruthless rule applied to me as well.

When evening finally fell, I found myself imprisoned in that cursed dress, a garment that suffocated both my body and soul. As I stepped into the grand hall, already bathed in the glow of magnificent candelabras, I saw that the banquet table had been set in all its splendor. The only thing that brought me any flicker of excitement on this dreary night was knowing that our guests were Christian and his family. The moment I laid eyes on him, I wanted to throw my arms around his neck just like in the old days, but I knew all too well the scolding and judgmental glares such an act would invite. So, bowing to those strict moral codes they held so dear, I delicately pinched the skirts of my dress and offered a graceful curtsy.

After enduring the suffocatingly polite conversation in the parlor, we moved to the dining table. My sister Aoife and I sat side by side; Christian sat directly across from me. He... looked so different. At twenty-six, he had transformed into an educated, solemn man who was already beginning to take over his family's affairs. As he sat at the table, he brushed his ash-blonde hair back with a refined gesture. I was staring at him with a wide grin on my face for the sake of the old days, but he merely cleared his throat, leaned back in his chair, and averted his eyes, as if entirely denying the old bond between us.

As the smile froze on my lips, my sister Aoife instantly noticed this brief, icy exchange. She leaned softly towards my ear, and the words that spilled from her lips were as sharp as a blade:

“Perhaps you are the only one left who still needs to grow up, Cass.”

Having delivered her verdict, she too leaned back in her chair, leaving me entirely alone with that condescending silence in the midst of a world that was slowly, irreparably changing. I struggled to force my attention onto the food before me. Throughout that suffocating banquet, I was the quietest one at the table, practically buried in silence. Finally, it was my mother's voice that shattered my gloomy quiet.

“Cassandra,” she said.

I slowly lifted my head and looked at her. It was then I realized that my father, my sister, Christian, and his family—the eyes of everyone at the table were fixed on me. When my gaze darted to my sister, I saw her brows furrowed slightly in anxious dread, as if she already knew what was coming.

“Yes?” I said in a reluctant, raspy voice.

Pinning that flawless high-society smile to her face, my mother looked first at my father, then at me. “We were thinking of holding your engagement next week. That way, we won't delay this matter any further.”

I wasn't sure of the reality of what I had just heard. As my mind struggled to process the words, I felt I had forgotten how to breathe. The word “What?” spilled abruptly from my lips like a reflex.

With an elegant wave of her hand, my mother gestured to Christian sitting across the table. “You children are already late!” she said, followed by that fake, cheerful laugh of hers. As Christian’s family chimed in with the same polite laughter, my eyes snapped to him in absolute horror.

“Did you…” I began, trying to suppress the tremor in my voice, “…did you know about this?!”

Christian slowly set his engraved crystal goblet down on the table, as if nothing were amiss. As he looked into my eyes, there wasn't a single shred of emotion on his face. “Yes,” he replied in a lifeless tone.

“And you agreed to this?!” I shouted. Unable to stop the fury consuming my body, I slammed my hands onto the table and shoved my chair back, leaping to my feet. The suffocating silence in the hall gave way to a heavy tension; everyone froze. “This marriage will not happen!”

I fixed my glare on my mother. Her brows were now furrowed, that counterfeit smile entirely wiped from her face. She slowly laid the silver fork she had been gripping tightly onto the edge of her porcelain plate.

“No one asked for your opinion, Cassandra,” she stated, emphasizing every syllable.

I immediately turned to my father. I looked pleadingly into the eyes of the man who had picked me up whenever I fell since childhood, who had always protected and watched over me. But he, too, averted his gaze, stepping into the role of my mother's silent approver. Then, clinging to hope, I looked at my sister. Being the furthest from the idea of marriage, she was the only one in this house who could understand me. A cloud of deep thought shadowed her face, yet she kept her lips pressed tightly together, choosing to remain silent. Everyone at the table, save for me, had already accepted my fate.

“To hell with all of you!” I screamed. Disregarding all those noble moral codes and the shocked faces I left in my wake, I stormed out of the hall and threw myself into the gardens.

I heard my father stand up behind me, but my mother's authoritative voice stopped him: “Let her be. She needs some air. She will come to accept it.”

As the cold night air hit my face, my footsteps led me straight to the stables. I pushed open the heavy wooden door, slipped inside, and walked directly to Darcy’s stall. Darcy was my horse; perhaps the only living creature in this colossal, cold world that I felt truly understood me. I buried my trembling hands in his sleek, black mane and stroked it.

“Something has to change tonight, Darcy,” I whispered, fighting to hold back my tears. Darcy gently nudged his warm snout against my neck and prodded my chin in consolation. “You're right,” I said with a bitter smile. “Perhaps it is time to leave.”

I spent the night in the stables, resting on the hay and listening to Darcy’s breathing, in sheer defiance of the silk gown I wore. When I returned to the house with the first light of dawn, the servants, accustomed to my rebellious antics, bowed their heads and passed by without a word. I forcefully pushed my bedroom door open and stepped inside. Though my eyes instantly darted to those horrifying claw marks on the wall, the anger inside me completely smothered my fear; ignoring them, I went and slumped onto the edge of my bed.

Only a few minutes had passed before the door opened again. My mother stepped inside alone, without her usual retinue of servants, and firmly shut the door behind her.

“You were incredibly rude last night,” she said in an icy tone. “What was the meaning of storming away from the table like that?”

“I was the rude one?” I shot back with a sarcastic scoff. “Or was it you, making marriage plans for my life without me even knowing? Why do you want to marry me off when my sister isn't even wed yet—have you lost your minds?!”

The mask of noble composure on my mother’s face finally cracked. “Your sister—”

This time, I leapt up furiously, not waiting for her to finish. “My sister is utterly flawless, exactly as you wish, while I am the bane of this family, aren't I?! Just to get rid of me—”

My mother marched rapidly toward me, closing the distance between us. “This marriage is going to happen, young lady!” she snapped, leveling her index finger at my face like a weapon. “Or else you will be condemned to rot in this room for the rest of your life! Put those childish tantrums aside and you had best start preparing yourself for the engagement!”

Horrified, I stared into my mother’s alienated face. “You've lost your mind,” I whispered. All my resistance had shattered; I sank back onto the bed in profound disappointment.

“This is essential for the future of our family, Cassandra, and you must understand that,” she said, softening her tone by a mere fraction, yet without losing an ounce of her authority. “You are lucky to be marrying your childhood friend. That is not an opportunity that falls at every woman's feet. You would do well to get used to the idea.”

She cast a fleeting, inscrutable glance out of the corner of her eye at the deep claw marks on the wall, and then left the room without another word.

Two agonizing weeks had passed since that suffocating conversation. My presence in the house was now no different from a ghost's; I spoke less, and I almost never smiled. My father had left on a business trip and wouldn't return for at least two months. Only my mother, my sister, and I remained in the estate. Some days, Christian’s mother would visit the manor, piling countless gift packages carried by her servants into my room. I hadn't even lifted the lid on a single one of those ribbon-tied boxes.

When the inevitable moment finally arrived, and they definitively settled on an engagement date amongst themselves, I feigned illness to escape that atmosphere of counterfeit congratulations. I threw myself straight out into the gardens. My steps led me right back to Darcy. Wrapping my arms around his muscular neck and resting my head against him, I let out a deep sigh. Darcy nudged me softly with his head, as if he could sense the sorrow brewing inside me. My eyes drifted to his saddle.

“Come on, let's go for a short ride,” I murmured, pulling myself up onto his back.

Evening was about to fall. Since everyone in the manor was in a frantic rush of preparation for the upcoming grand dinner, there was no one in the gardens to see me. Blending into the shadows, I slipped away unseen, turning onto the narrow path that led from the grounds into the forest.

As Darcy broke into a gallop, the cool breeze seemed to strip the heat from my flushed face, helping me leave behind the suffocating thoughts in my mind. The sky was steadily darkening, storm clouds gathering overhead. With the first drops of cold rain hitting my skin, I slowed Darcy down. We had reached the edge of the fiercely rushing river, deep within the heart of the forest.

“Perhaps we should turn back,” I said, stroking Darcy’s dampening mane.

Just as I pulled the reins to turn him around, Darcy suddenly grew frantic. Pinning his ears back, he reared up and then bolted fiercely in the opposite direction, as if fleeing from something unseen and sinister lurking in the dark woods.

“Hey! Hey! Darcy, slow down!” I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the crack of thunder. Darcy kept galloping, as if death itself were on our heels.

As the intensity of the rain magnified within seconds, I felt my horse's hooves begin to slip on the churning mud. Struck with panic, I yanked the reins toward me with all my might. But in that second, everything happened at once.

A blinding flash of lightning split the sky in two. His eyes wide with terror, Darcy stumbled; I lost my balance entirely and was violently thrown from the saddle, soaring through the empty air before plunging into the raging, ice-cold waters of the river. I swallowed water. As the freezing currents dragged me ruthlessly toward the bottom, into pitch blackness, I had no strength left to fight. My eyes were slowly slipping shut.

My short, rebellion-filled life was destined to end in a dark forest, on a rainy day, at the bottom of a freezing river.

I was the greatest sin written into my own fate...

-Hi everyone! This story is set in the Victorian era, and we'll get to know the characters better as the chapters progress. Happy reading! I look forward to your comments and votes, thank you in advance!-