The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

They moved like shadows through the trees—silent, swift, unerring. Caelum followed close behind the silver-haired elder, the ring of vampires around them maintaining a respectful yet ever-watchful distance.

The forest here was different—denser, yet quieter. The air pulsed with something ancient, something alive. Caelum could feel it thrumming faintly beneath his skin, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.

As they passed under a low canopy of thorned branches, Caelum spoke.

"You are from Gura Umbrei."

The elder did not stop, but his voice drifted back, smooth as silk laced with iron.

"We are."

Caelum's eyes narrowed. "That's… far. Romania."

"It is our origin," the elder said. "Though few of us have ever set foot there. The Gura Umbrei are not bound to land, but to purpose. We are the keepers of the hidden flame—of secrets too dangerous to be buried, yet too cursed to be revealed."

They passed a wall of twisted roots, which parted as if sensing the elder's presence.

"You know about what happened," Caelum said. "Six years ago. When I… appeared here."

The elder nodded once. "We felt it when the ward trembled. A child—not born of us, but not wholly apart either—stepping through a sealed border. It is a tale that has grown over the years."

Caelum frowned. "And yet no one came."

"You survived," the elder said simply. "That alone spoke more than any intervention could. We are not permitted to meddle with what fate delivers—even if the ferals had killed you."

He paused.

"They nearly did."

"The outer ring… it's theirs?"

"Yes. The edge of the sanctuary belongs to those who cannot master the thirst. Feral-born or fallen from restraint. They are not cast out, but kept separate. Watched. We do not destroy our own—but neither do we permit danger to grow unchecked."

Caelum's eyes darkened. "So you just keep them penned in the outer dark?"

"They are not prisoners," the elder replied. "But they are not of the Court. That title is earned."

He said it without cruelty—just certainty. As if it were as natural as breathing.

Caelum looked ahead. The forest was parting again, but this time it gave way not to more trees—but to stone.

A rise of jagged cliffs loomed before them, shrouded in moss and ancient ivy. At its base, a wide cave mouth yawned like the entrance to a slumbering giant.

The elder turned to him.

"You wonder why we do not join the wizarding world."

Caelum held his gaze. "It would make sense. You seem civilised. You live in order."

The elder's smile was thin and bitter.

"Civilisation does not guarantee welcome. Out there, we are still beasts. Monsters. If not slain, then studied. You know this. You've lived it."

Caelum's jaw clenched.

"It is safer here," the elder continued. "No prejudice. No witch-hunters. No children with silver in their pockets and fear in their eyes. In here, we protect one another. And our duty."

He turned back to the stone mouth of the cave.

"This is our sanctum. The Vein of Umbra. A sacred place to our kind. Only those of the Court may step beyond this threshold."

"What's inside?" Caelum asked, already sensing the shift in the air—dense with magic, old and heavy.

"An artifact," the elder said. "Older than the Ministry. Older than Hogwarts. It bears many names. We call it Inima Sângelui—the Heart of Blood."

Caelum stared at the shadowed entrance.

"It judges?" he asked.

"Yes," the elder said. "It sees beyond words, blood, or fire. It peers into the marrow of your truth. If you are worthy, it will open the path to what you seek."

"And if I'm not?"

The elder's voice was grave. "Then it will consume you."

The silence that followed stretched like a blade.

Still, Caelum stepped forward.

Because he had come too far. Because there was no turning back.

Because the truth, no matter how bloody, was better than the lie that left him wondering who—or what—he was.

The stone swallowed him as he entered.

And the darkness closed behind.