When Love Bleeds in the Dark PART nine

To End the War, One of Us Must Fall


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Victory never feels like relief.

It feels like waiting for the cost to arrive.


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The citadel burned for three nights after the battle.

Not with fire—but with aftermath.

Bodies dissolved into ash. The sea below carried whispers of what had been lost. Our allies vanished one by one, returning to their shadows, their loyalties paid in blood and fear.

We were left alone.

Again.


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“He’ll come back changed,” she said as we watched the horizon bleed into dawn. “Wounded gods don’t heal quietly.”

“I know,” I replied.

“You don’t understand,” she continued. “He won’t just come for us. He’ll burn everything we’ve touched.”

That was when I realized something terrifying.

This war wasn’t about power.

It was about ending us.


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We moved constantly.

New cities. Old ruins. Places that remembered her sins and didn’t yet know my name.

But no matter how far we went, the pressure grew.

The night itself felt tense—like it was holding its breath.


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The dreams returned.

Stronger.

Different.

I didn’t just see him anymore.

I saw futures.

Cities drowned in blood.
The Unbound slaughtered.
Her screaming my name as eternity collapsed around us.

I woke shaking.

“You’re seeing paths,” she whispered. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Nothing about me should be possible,” I replied.

She didn’t argue.


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We found the answer in a place older than war.

A library buried beneath a desert monastery, guarded by monks who knew what we were and let us pass anyway—because even faith understands inevitability.

Scrolls written in blood and bone.

Prophecies disguised as prayers.

And one truth carved into stone:

A maker can only be destroyed by what he refuses to understand.


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“Love,” she whispered.

“No,” I said slowly. “Choice.”

The words burned as they settled.


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The ritual was simple.

That’s what made it horrifying.

One immortal bound to the maker by blood must willingly sever the bond—
by offering their existence.

Not death.

Erasure.


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“If I do this,” she said quietly, “there will be no after. No return. No memory.”

My chest tightened.

“No,” I said. “There has to be another way.”

She shook her head.

“There never is.”


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I understood then.

This wasn’t about stopping him.

It was about stopping what he made her into.

She stepped closer.

“You gave me something I hadn’t felt in centuries,” she said. “A reason to end this.”

“And what do I get?” I asked, voice breaking. “Eternity alone?”

She cupped my face.

“You get to live free of him,” she said. “And carry what we were.”


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I laughed—a sharp, broken sound.

“You think that’s mercy?”

She kissed me.

Slowly. Completely. Like she was memorizing every breath.

“I think it’s love,” she whispered.


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We argued for hours.

Shouted. Pleaded. Broke each other open.

Until finally—

I understood the other truth.

She wasn’t the only one bound to him.

I was.

Through her.

Through the blood.

Through choice.


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“I can do it,” I said suddenly.

She froze.

“What?”

“I can end him,” I continued. “Not by dying—but by becoming something he can’t control.”

Her eyes filled with fear.

“That would destroy you.”

I smiled softly.

“I was destroyed the night I chose you.”


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The final confrontation came at a place where the world thins.

A cliff where reality bends toward darkness.

He waited for us.

Smiling.

“You finally understand,” he said. “Every war ends with sacrifice.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Just not the one you planned.”


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I stepped forward.

Let the bond open.

Let his blood answer mine.

Pain unlike anything I’d known ripped through me—every memory, every instinct, every remaining thread of who I was tearing free.

He screamed.

Not in anger.

In terror.


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“You were never meant to exist,” he hissed.

I looked back at her one last time.

“I was meant to love her,” I said.

And then—

I let go.


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The night shattered.

When it reformed, he was gone.

Not dead.

Unwritten.


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I collapsed.

The world faded.

I felt her arms around me.

Her tears on my face.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

I smiled weakly.

“Looks like,” I murmured, “eternity chose.”


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Darkness closed in.

Not cruel.

Not cold.

Just quiet.


If love demands everything… what remains when the sacrifice is made?


👉 Read the final part—Part Ten—to discover whether love can survive even the end of eternity.


#UltimateSacrifice
#DarkRomance
#EternalLove