Chapter 132

Chapter 132: Chapter 132

Julian’s pov

The moment my blood hit his tongue, Gideon’s instincts took over completely. He latched onto my arm like a starving beast, his fingers digging into my skin. He sucked greedily, swallowing the liquid in gulps.

I felt the dark magic binding us instantly. The spell didn’t just bring him back, by feeding him my blood the moment he opened his eyes, my essence wrapped around his newborn consciousness, forging a permanent, unbreakable leash. My blood became his anchor, his life force, and his master code.

Color rushed back into Gideon’s pale face. The blue veins under his skin softened, the milky haze in his eyes clearing into a sharp, dark intensity. His ragged breathing slowed, steadying as my ancient vitality rebuilt his shattered organs and warmed his cold flesh.

When he finally pulled his mouth away, a thin streak ran down his chin. He gasped softly, his head tilting back as he absorbed the power humming through his veins.

The in his eyes was gone, replaced by a quiet, absolute reverence as he looked up at me. The bond of the blood magic had settled deep into his soul.

Gideon slid off the stone slab, his legs trembling slightly before finding his balance on the cold floorboards. He dropped heavily onto his knees in front of me, bowing his head until his dark hair brushed my boots.

"My body is yours..." Gideon rasped, his voice smooth and steady now, laced with dark, compulsory devotion. "My life belongs to you... Master."

I looked down at the resurrected fighter kneeling at my feet, a slow, lethal smile spreading across my face.

"Rise, Gideon," I purred softly, running my hand through his dark hair. "Your master has a task for you. There is a golden-haired boy who needs to be reminded of who he truly belongs to."

Gideon looked up, his dark eyes glowing with a sinister, fixed obsession. "Lysander."

"Yes," I whispered, turning toward the window that looked out toward the southern valley. "Go to him. Stalk his shadows. Let him see your face in the glass. Make him believe he is losing his mind... until he has nowhere left to run."

"Yes, Master," Gideon murmured, standing up to his full height, ready to execute my command.

Darius’ pov

I pushed the door open with the tip of my polished boot and stepped into the cabin.gloom.

Julian stood by the stone slab, wiping the blade of a dagger on a linen rag. He looked paler than usual, his essence visibly drained from the exertion of the ritual, but his posture was straight, his mouth curved into a dark, self-satisfied smirk.

On the floor in front of him, kneeling in the shadows, was the resurrected corpse.

Gideon.

I paused, leaning my weight lightly against the doorframe, taking in the sight with quiet, amused satisfaction. My son was fully conscious, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Black-red stains still smeared his chin, matching the fresh cut weeping along Julian’s forearm.

"You actually pulled it off, my lord," I purred, stepping further into the room. "I must admit, I had my doubts about black-market necromancy, even for you."

Julian didn’t look up from his dagger. "My blood doesn’t fail, Darius. The soul was anchored easily enough."

"Thanks to the anchors," I noted, my eyes drifting back to the kneeling figure.

Gideon hadn’t moved. He remained on his knees, his head bowed, his hands resting flat against the cold stone floor. But at the mention of Lysander’s name, a tremor ripped through his shoulders.

I smirked, he sure knows what he wants.

I stepped closer, stopping just out of arm’s reach from the resurrected tool. "Raise your head."

Gideon remained completely motionless, ignoring my pureblood command as if I were nothing more than a breeze passing through the cellar.

"Look at me, son."

Julian let out a dry, low chuckle, tossing his blood-stained rag onto the table. "He doesn’t answer to you, Darius. His life force, his mind, and his obedience belong entirely to the blood that revived him."

Julian took a single step forward. "Gideon. Look at him."

Instantly, Gideon’s head snapped up.

The dark, milky haze of death was completely gone from his eyes. They were sharp, intense, and burning with a terrifying, single-minded obsession. He looked up at me, his jaw set, his dark gaze tracking my movements like a hound waiting for its master to release the leash.

"Impressive," I murmured, tilting my head as I studied the mark of the blood bond humming between them. "He’s bound to your will, yet his mind is intact."

"More than intact," Julian replied softly, walking around the slab to stand behind the kneeling fighter, placing a pale, slender hand on Gideon’s shoulder. "His memories are sharp. His obsession with that boy is completely intact, magnified by the magic that dragged him back from the abyss."

I leaned down slightly, meeting Gideon’s dark, fixed glare. "Do you know who you are, boy?"

"I am Gideon," he rasped out, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that echoed against the damp walls.

"And do you know why you’re breathing again?" I asked smoothly.

Gideon’s chest heaved, his fingers digging into the stone floorboards, leaving deep, white scratches in the wood. "Lysander. He was taken from me."

"He was," I lied smoothly, feeding the dark fire in his chest. "Drake took him. He bought him a private estate, locked him behind blood wards, and made him forget all about you. He sleeps in his bed every night while you rot."

A low, guttural growl tore from Gideon’s throat, a sound so raw and animalistic it rattled the flame of the nearest candle. The veins along his neck bulged black, flaring out of control at the thought of Lysander in another man’s arms.

That’s good, I thought. Turning my own son into a weapon, to serve my own purpose. This is my best plan yet after marrying Elena.

"Quiet," Julian commanded softly, his hand tightening on Gideon’s shoulder.

Gideon silenced himself instantly, though his breathing remained harsh and ragged, his eyes fixed on the floor as he fought for control.

I straightened up, pulling a leather folder from inside my coat and tossing it onto the table beside the iron cauldron. "These are the blueprints and perimeter layouts for Drake’s new cliffside estate. The blood wards around the property are heavy, but they’re keyed to living threats and aggressive breaches."

Julian picked up the folder, flicking through the pages. "He won’t trip the wards?"

"Not if he stays on the outer tree line," I explained, a wicked grin spreading across my face. "Gideon’s signature is strange now, half-dead. The wards will register him as a faint, passing shadow. Just enough to let him slip through the forest without triggering the central alarms."

"Perfect," Julian whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

"He shouldn’t approach Lysander directly yet," I warned, looking back down at Gideon. "Not until the boy’s mind is completely unraveled. I want him to catch glimpses of Gideon in the glass. I want him to feel eyes on him in the dark, to hear footsteps when he’s alone in his art studio, to question his own sanity."

"He will," Julian said softly. He looked down at the resurrected fighter kneeling before him. "Gideon. You heard the command. You will stalk the boy. You will haunt his shadows, let him see your face in the mirror, and vanish before he can reach you. You will drive him to the edge of madness."

Gideon looked up at Julian, his dark eyes glowing with absolute, compulsory devotion.

"Yes, Master," Gideon growled out, bowing his head until his forehead touched the floor. "I will bring Lysander to his knees."