Published in Bound by Blood: The Revenge Saga (cut scene)
Published in Bound by Blood: The Revenge Saga (cut scene)
Published in Bound by Blood: The Revenge Saga (cut scene)
Image credit by Personal AI collection
Image credit by Personal AI collection
Image credit by Personal AI collection
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth
Hello, I'm Resigner Luth, the author of this fantasy series. I hope you find as much joy in reading it as I find in creating it. Coming soon: a mailing list and a more interactive experience. By that, I mean I will be accepting original stories from you. So, please don't hesitate to get involved. Launch date: January 20, 2025. Stay tuned and stay safe. 💜
Hello, I'm Resigner Luth, the author of this fantasy series. I hope you find as much joy in reading it as I find in creating it. Coming soon: a mailing list and a more interactive experience. By that, I mean I will be accepting original stories from you. So, please don't hesitate to get involved. Launch date: January 20, 2025. Stay tuned and stay safe. 💜
Hello, I'm Resigner Luth, the author of this fantasy series. I hope you find as much joy in reading it as I find in creating it. Coming soon: a mailing list and a more interactive experience. By that, I mean I will be accepting original stories from you. So, please don't hesitate to get involved. Launch date: January 20, 2025. Stay tuned and stay safe. 💜
November 11, 2024
November 11, 2024
November 11, 2024
Red's Arena of Blades
Red's Arena of Blades
Red's Arena of Blades
Dealing Shadows - Part Two
Dealing Shadows - Part Two
Dealing Shadows - Part Two
The Arena of Blades
Introduction:
Red’s patience had finally worn thin. Without a second thought, she was drawn to her battle arena—a place that even she found unsettling, haunted by the memories of her defeated foes. It was her sacred ground, a hallowed space she carried with her from one era to the next. Like everything else in her life, it seemed almost alive, constantly shifting and evolving. This was her battleground, carefully prepared.
And even though the young warlock certainly would be in awe, she's reluctant to bring him here.
This was the arena where the infamous Elara Crimsonsteel had fought countless opponents and emerged victorious—every time, except against Red herself. She could still recall softening the blades for young Shadows, her protégé, who cherished their mock battles and the rituals she would carefully teach her.
As most things in her life, it seems to be alive, constantly changing. This is her battle ground, sanitized.
Dealing Shadows - Part Two
Part One
As Vander holds the young warlock—who insists on calling himself "The Trapped One"—firmly in his arms, Red reflects on the absurdities she's endured over the years. She's faced quasi-religious zealots and lunatics of every kind, yet none have grated on her nerves like this vain little peacock.
She doesn't just dislike him; she despises his self-pity. His endless claims of victimhood. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she mutters under her breath. She needs answers. How could someone so obviously “gifted” be drawn so easily into a world of lies and manipulation? More importantly, how did he manage to deceive so many others?
"You love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" she wants to shout, but she stays silent, hoping he’ll let something slip. Perhaps he'll betray his methods—especially how he ensnared Shadows. Even a cunning foe, one filled with a vicious grudge against her family, might let secrets slip to protect his own fragile legacy.
Part Two: The Angel Without a Halo
Red sighed, feeling the weight of judgment in the eyes of the crowd. She knew what they saw—cold defiance, an impenetrable mask of anger and purpose. And she knew, too, it wasn’t the full truth. But truth had little place in battles like these.
Silently, she handed her sword and armor to Vander, her fingers lingering on the hilt just a moment longer. His face tightened, but he made no plea, no argument; he knew better than to question her resolve now. Somewhere behind them, Cinders held her position, her eyes shadowed and dark as they bore witness to the scene unfolding. Nearby, Milk—the young witch cursed with visions too harrowing for her years—stood trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks as silently as shadows under moonlight.
Turning, Red fixed her gaze upon the Warlock, his body crouched low, his eyes gleaming with malice and trepidation. His plans lay shattered, and he had only a moment now to savor his own ruin.
“Look at me!” Red’s voice rang through the air, a command carrying the weight of storms and sorcery alike. Her voice thundered, but within it lurked a calm fury, the kind that sharpened blade and spell. “Do you recognize my power? A power that only the Council shares?”
The Warlock, seasoned in darkness and dealings of old, opened his mouth—then closed it. She watched with satisfaction as his bravado crumbled, leaving only silence in its wake. He had felt invincible, immortal even. But Red’s words sliced through his confidence like a spear forged in holy fire.
She lifted her arms, and with a breath that seemed to draw strength from every life around her, she rose above the arena. The world below seemed to shrink; she hovered like a celestial judge, neither angel nor mere mortal, yet carrying the echoes of both. There was no halo above her head, only the raw, radiant force of her power—a light too fierce and real for anyone to mistake for mere mercy.
The silence stretched, heavy and tense, as all eyes locked on Red. They saw now, truly, the one they called the Angel of War —a figure as majestic as she was merciless, as divine as she was dangerous.
The Warlock could only stare, frozen in the final realization that his sins had led him here, to judgment—before her, and before the world.
Chapter Two: Red's Immortal Heart
Immortal Chains
"As Red commands Vander to open the battle arena, he is momentarily paralyzed, awestruck by its vast, shadowed depths. With hands trembling, he grasps the prisoner, guiding him toward his fate, each step weighed by the gravity of what awaits."
Bound by both love and fury, Red’s immortal heart seeks vengeance for the innocent wronged by cruel hands.
In this timeless realm, untouched by decay, she delivers punishments both poetic and profound. Her voice, haunting as a winter's night, weaves a melody of despair around her prisoner—a song that lingers in the warlock's soul like a chill he’ll never shake. He already knows his fate: eternity haunted by spectral visions of his own remorse, each note of Red’s symphony a haunting reminder of his vile deeds.
The Echoes of Time
In a merciless act of retribution, Red reaches into his mind, twisting his perception of time to her will. She curses him with glimpses of eternity—where every second stretches unbearably, drawing out his torment without end. Each sin he’s committed returns to him, unfurling in unbroken cycles. He lives and relives them, each second a scar burned into his psyche.
The Unforgiving Reflection
Through a darkly enchanted looking glass, the warlock is forced to confront his own wretched reflection. In its depths, he sees the suffering he has wrought, his features contorted with the anguish he inflicted on his victims. His pain mirrors theirs, an unending reminder of the harm he has caused.
As Red descends, Cinders approaches, a mixture of awe and trepidation in her gaze. “This was the kinder option?” she asks, her voice laced with shock.
Red smiles, a wicked glint in her eye. “He kept his head, didn’t he?” she replies. “He was insane, Cinders—no remorse, no sense of reality. This is mercy, believe me. I’ve given him time, and that in itself is a precious gift.”
She finally allows Milk to approach with a touching eulogy:
"In the shadows where we live. I pray for your heart to heal. Beyond the darkness, a light remains. May love and mercy break these chains."
"Yet, unbeknownst to them all, the daughter watches from the shadows, her eyes filled with unspoken questions, her gaze a quiet mystery."
ƒin
~ As written by Resigner Luth, Bound by Blood, The Revenge Saga (Cut Scene) ©November, 11, 2024.
🪝Please keep reading at https://resignerluth.space or https://ultraviolet.ink under the Journal.
Resigner💜
#justmoveforward
Relax, take a deep breath and enjoy the read. Until next time, take care!
As always, the words and the story is mine. I would like to thank the original creators for the music. It's not my intent to infringe or profit from your work.
The Arena of Blades
Introduction:
Red’s patience had finally worn thin. Without a second thought, she was drawn to her battle arena—a place that even she found unsettling, haunted by the memories of her defeated foes. It was her sacred ground, a hallowed space she carried with her from one era to the next. Like everything else in her life, it seemed almost alive, constantly shifting and evolving. This was her battleground, carefully prepared.
And even though the young warlock certainly would be in awe, she's reluctant to bring him here.
This was the arena where the infamous Elara Crimsonsteel had fought countless opponents and emerged victorious—every time, except against Red herself. She could still recall softening the blades for young Shadows, her protégé, who cherished their mock battles and the rituals she would carefully teach her.
As most things in her life, it seems to be alive, constantly changing. This is her battle ground, sanitized.
Dealing Shadows - Part Two
Part One
As Vander holds the young warlock—who insists on calling himself "The Trapped One"—firmly in his arms, Red reflects on the absurdities she's endured over the years. She's faced quasi-religious zealots and lunatics of every kind, yet none have grated on her nerves like this vain little peacock.
She doesn't just dislike him; she despises his self-pity. His endless claims of victimhood. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she mutters under her breath. She needs answers. How could someone so obviously “gifted” be drawn so easily into a world of lies and manipulation? More importantly, how did he manage to deceive so many others?
"You love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" she wants to shout, but she stays silent, hoping he’ll let something slip. Perhaps he'll betray his methods—especially how he ensnared Shadows. Even a cunning foe, one filled with a vicious grudge against her family, might let secrets slip to protect his own fragile legacy.
Part Two: The Angel Without a Halo
Red sighed, feeling the weight of judgment in the eyes of the crowd. She knew what they saw—cold defiance, an impenetrable mask of anger and purpose. And she knew, too, it wasn’t the full truth. But truth had little place in battles like these.
Silently, she handed her sword and armor to Vander, her fingers lingering on the hilt just a moment longer. His face tightened, but he made no plea, no argument; he knew better than to question her resolve now. Somewhere behind them, Cinders held her position, her eyes shadowed and dark as they bore witness to the scene unfolding. Nearby, Milk—the young witch cursed with visions too harrowing for her years—stood trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks as silently as shadows under moonlight.
Turning, Red fixed her gaze upon the Warlock, his body crouched low, his eyes gleaming with malice and trepidation. His plans lay shattered, and he had only a moment now to savor his own ruin.
“Look at me!” Red’s voice rang through the air, a command carrying the weight of storms and sorcery alike. Her voice thundered, but within it lurked a calm fury, the kind that sharpened blade and spell. “Do you recognize my power? A power that only the Council shares?”
The Warlock, seasoned in darkness and dealings of old, opened his mouth—then closed it. She watched with satisfaction as his bravado crumbled, leaving only silence in its wake. He had felt invincible, immortal even. But Red’s words sliced through his confidence like a spear forged in holy fire.
She lifted her arms, and with a breath that seemed to draw strength from every life around her, she rose above the arena. The world below seemed to shrink; she hovered like a celestial judge, neither angel nor mere mortal, yet carrying the echoes of both. There was no halo above her head, only the raw, radiant force of her power—a light too fierce and real for anyone to mistake for mere mercy.
The silence stretched, heavy and tense, as all eyes locked on Red. They saw now, truly, the one they called the Angel of War —a figure as majestic as she was merciless, as divine as she was dangerous.
The Warlock could only stare, frozen in the final realization that his sins had led him here, to judgment—before her, and before the world.
Chapter Two: Red's Immortal Heart
Immortal Chains
"As Red commands Vander to open the battle arena, he is momentarily paralyzed, awestruck by its vast, shadowed depths. With hands trembling, he grasps the prisoner, guiding him toward his fate, each step weighed by the gravity of what awaits."
Bound by both love and fury, Red’s immortal heart seeks vengeance for the innocent wronged by cruel hands.
In this timeless realm, untouched by decay, she delivers punishments both poetic and profound. Her voice, haunting as a winter's night, weaves a melody of despair around her prisoner—a song that lingers in the warlock's soul like a chill he’ll never shake. He already knows his fate: eternity haunted by spectral visions of his own remorse, each note of Red’s symphony a haunting reminder of his vile deeds.
The Echoes of Time
In a merciless act of retribution, Red reaches into his mind, twisting his perception of time to her will. She curses him with glimpses of eternity—where every second stretches unbearably, drawing out his torment without end. Each sin he’s committed returns to him, unfurling in unbroken cycles. He lives and relives them, each second a scar burned into his psyche.
The Unforgiving Reflection
Through a darkly enchanted looking glass, the warlock is forced to confront his own wretched reflection. In its depths, he sees the suffering he has wrought, his features contorted with the anguish he inflicted on his victims. His pain mirrors theirs, an unending reminder of the harm he has caused.
As Red descends, Cinders approaches, a mixture of awe and trepidation in her gaze. “This was the kinder option?” she asks, her voice laced with shock.
Red smiles, a wicked glint in her eye. “He kept his head, didn’t he?” she replies. “He was insane, Cinders—no remorse, no sense of reality. This is mercy, believe me. I’ve given him time, and that in itself is a precious gift.”
She finally allows Milk to approach with a touching eulogy:
"In the shadows where we live. I pray for your heart to heal. Beyond the darkness, a light remains. May love and mercy break these chains."
"Yet, unbeknownst to them all, the daughter watches from the shadows, her eyes filled with unspoken questions, her gaze a quiet mystery."
ƒin
~ As written by Resigner Luth, Bound by Blood, The Revenge Saga (Cut Scene) ©November, 11, 2024.
🪝Please keep reading at https://resignerluth.space or https://ultraviolet.ink under the Journal.
Resigner💜
#justmoveforward
Relax, take a deep breath and enjoy the read. Until next time, take care!
As always, the words and the story is mine. I would like to thank the original creators for the music. It's not my intent to infringe or profit from your work.
The Arena of Blades
Introduction:
Red’s patience had finally worn thin. Without a second thought, she was drawn to her battle arena—a place that even she found unsettling, haunted by the memories of her defeated foes. It was her sacred ground, a hallowed space she carried with her from one era to the next. Like everything else in her life, it seemed almost alive, constantly shifting and evolving. This was her battleground, carefully prepared.
And even though the young warlock certainly would be in awe, she's reluctant to bring him here.
This was the arena where the infamous Elara Crimsonsteel had fought countless opponents and emerged victorious—every time, except against Red herself. She could still recall softening the blades for young Shadows, her protégé, who cherished their mock battles and the rituals she would carefully teach her.
As most things in her life, it seems to be alive, constantly changing. This is her battle ground, sanitized.
Dealing Shadows - Part Two
Part One
As Vander holds the young warlock—who insists on calling himself "The Trapped One"—firmly in his arms, Red reflects on the absurdities she's endured over the years. She's faced quasi-religious zealots and lunatics of every kind, yet none have grated on her nerves like this vain little peacock.
She doesn't just dislike him; she despises his self-pity. His endless claims of victimhood. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she mutters under her breath. She needs answers. How could someone so obviously “gifted” be drawn so easily into a world of lies and manipulation? More importantly, how did he manage to deceive so many others?
"You love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" she wants to shout, but she stays silent, hoping he’ll let something slip. Perhaps he'll betray his methods—especially how he ensnared Shadows. Even a cunning foe, one filled with a vicious grudge against her family, might let secrets slip to protect his own fragile legacy.
Part Two: The Angel Without a Halo
Red sighed, feeling the weight of judgment in the eyes of the crowd. She knew what they saw—cold defiance, an impenetrable mask of anger and purpose. And she knew, too, it wasn’t the full truth. But truth had little place in battles like these.
Silently, she handed her sword and armor to Vander, her fingers lingering on the hilt just a moment longer. His face tightened, but he made no plea, no argument; he knew better than to question her resolve now. Somewhere behind them, Cinders held her position, her eyes shadowed and dark as they bore witness to the scene unfolding. Nearby, Milk—the young witch cursed with visions too harrowing for her years—stood trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks as silently as shadows under moonlight.
Turning, Red fixed her gaze upon the Warlock, his body crouched low, his eyes gleaming with malice and trepidation. His plans lay shattered, and he had only a moment now to savor his own ruin.
“Look at me!” Red’s voice rang through the air, a command carrying the weight of storms and sorcery alike. Her voice thundered, but within it lurked a calm fury, the kind that sharpened blade and spell. “Do you recognize my power? A power that only the Council shares?”
The Warlock, seasoned in darkness and dealings of old, opened his mouth—then closed it. She watched with satisfaction as his bravado crumbled, leaving only silence in its wake. He had felt invincible, immortal even. But Red’s words sliced through his confidence like a spear forged in holy fire.
She lifted her arms, and with a breath that seemed to draw strength from every life around her, she rose above the arena. The world below seemed to shrink; she hovered like a celestial judge, neither angel nor mere mortal, yet carrying the echoes of both. There was no halo above her head, only the raw, radiant force of her power—a light too fierce and real for anyone to mistake for mere mercy.
The silence stretched, heavy and tense, as all eyes locked on Red. They saw now, truly, the one they called the Angel of War —a figure as majestic as she was merciless, as divine as she was dangerous.
The Warlock could only stare, frozen in the final realization that his sins had led him here, to judgment—before her, and before the world.
Chapter Two: Red's Immortal Heart
Immortal Chains
"As Red commands Vander to open the battle arena, he is momentarily paralyzed, awestruck by its vast, shadowed depths. With hands trembling, he grasps the prisoner, guiding him toward his fate, each step weighed by the gravity of what awaits."
Bound by both love and fury, Red’s immortal heart seeks vengeance for the innocent wronged by cruel hands.
In this timeless realm, untouched by decay, she delivers punishments both poetic and profound. Her voice, haunting as a winter's night, weaves a melody of despair around her prisoner—a song that lingers in the warlock's soul like a chill he’ll never shake. He already knows his fate: eternity haunted by spectral visions of his own remorse, each note of Red’s symphony a haunting reminder of his vile deeds.
The Echoes of Time
In a merciless act of retribution, Red reaches into his mind, twisting his perception of time to her will. She curses him with glimpses of eternity—where every second stretches unbearably, drawing out his torment without end. Each sin he’s committed returns to him, unfurling in unbroken cycles. He lives and relives them, each second a scar burned into his psyche.
The Unforgiving Reflection
Through a darkly enchanted looking glass, the warlock is forced to confront his own wretched reflection. In its depths, he sees the suffering he has wrought, his features contorted with the anguish he inflicted on his victims. His pain mirrors theirs, an unending reminder of the harm he has caused.
As Red descends, Cinders approaches, a mixture of awe and trepidation in her gaze. “This was the kinder option?” she asks, her voice laced with shock.
Red smiles, a wicked glint in her eye. “He kept his head, didn’t he?” she replies. “He was insane, Cinders—no remorse, no sense of reality. This is mercy, believe me. I’ve given him time, and that in itself is a precious gift.”
She finally allows Milk to approach with a touching eulogy:
"In the shadows where we live. I pray for your heart to heal. Beyond the darkness, a light remains. May love and mercy break these chains."
"Yet, unbeknownst to them all, the daughter watches from the shadows, her eyes filled with unspoken questions, her gaze a quiet mystery."
ƒin
~ As written by Resigner Luth, Bound by Blood, The Revenge Saga (Cut Scene) ©November, 11, 2024.
🪝Please keep reading at https://resignerluth.space or https://ultraviolet.ink under the Journal.
Resigner💜
#justmoveforward
Relax, take a deep breath and enjoy the read. Until next time, take care!
As always, the words and the story is mine. I would like to thank the original creators for the music. It's not my intent to infringe or profit from your work.
