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This is a account from the book of the Wulfecks where they have stored their family hostory, the story is labeled The Blood Debt and is from 1813.

Deep [in the Black] Forest, the Wulfecks gathered [under the iron] chandelier, each sibling radiating venom. The Drakwyn clan demanded blood—a Wulfeck life to repay an ancient betrayal.

“Let’s give them Orin,” Thessira sneered, her dagger gouging the oak table. “He crawled back here like the worm he is. Let him squirm for them instead.”

“Charming,” Orin drawled, flipping a tarnished coin. “If wit could kill, you’d still be harmless.”

Valken slammed his fist into the table. “Enough! This isn’t about grudges. It’s survival.”

Calessa swirled her wine, a smirk curling her lips. “[Weakest link], then. Any objections?”

“Besides you?” Orin quipped. Thessira’s dagger flew, embedding inches from his hand. He laughed darkly. “Relax, dear sister. I have a solution—a spell to make a [doppelgänger]. The Drakwyns get their life, and we stay whole.”

“[What’s the] catch?” Calessa’s voice dripped with disdain.

“It needs a willing sacrifice,” Orin hissed. “One life for all. Fair trade.”

Silence. Firelight flickered over their murderous glares. Valken’s knuckles whitened. “We don’t sacrifice our own.”

Calessa chuckled coldly. “How noble. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

The tension thickened, their hatred palpable. The blood debt loomed, and the Wulfecks stared each other down, venom and curses dripping with every breath.

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