Where were we?
The words scraped out of my throat weakly as my eyes fluttered open.
The world swam, darkness bleeding into shape slowly, reluctantly, like it resented being forced into clarity. Stone lood overhead—jagged, ancient, slick with moisture that caught faint, wavering light. A cave.
Not a small one.
This place was vast, cathedral-wide, its ceiling stretching so high it disappeared into shadow. The mountain itself felt like it had swallowed us whole.
Cold air pressed against my skin, heavy with the scent of earth and minerals, threaded with sothing sharper beneath it. Old smoke. Older magic.
My body felt wrong. Heavy. Empty. As if sothing vital had been torn out of and replaced with fire and ash.
I tried to move, tried to push myself upright, but my arms trembled uselessly, barely responding. I was still in Darius’ arms.
"Why..." My voice barely carried. "Why do I feel like this?"
The question never finished settling before pain slamd into .
It ripped through my abdon and up my spine, white-hot and unforgiving.
A scream tore out of before I could stop it, echoing violently off the stone walls. The sound ca back at in fragnts, multiplied until it felt like the cave itself was screaming with .
My vision blurred. Tears slipped sideways into my hair.
Movent flashed through the haze.
Figures erged from the shadows. Floating lights blood into existence above them—soft orbs of gold and blue that hovered without fla.
Incense burned sowhere nearby, thick curls of smoke rising and twisting, carrying scents that felt unfamiliar and deeply wrong. Bitter. Sweet. Ancient.
At the center of the cavern stood a carved stone table, massive and imposing, its surface etched with symbols worn smooth by ti. Bowls of colored fla burned atop it—deep crimson, pale violet, ghostly white—casting shifting shadows across the walls and ceiling.
Fear crawled up my throat. What was that?
Darius said nothing. He held with ease, as if I weighed nothing at all, and carried toward the stone table.
Panic flared instantly. "No," I rasped, struggling weakly in his arms. "Don’t—don’t do this."
He placed at the center of the table. The stone was freezing beneath my back, the cold leaching straight into my bones. I tried to sit up, tried to get away, but his hands pressed down firmly, unyielding.
"Sage," he said quietly.
I fought anyway, desperation lending my movents a frantic edge. "Let go!" so much for trust! Were they about to offer to their gods?
My chest heaved. My hands shook uncontrollably.
Fear settled fully then—true fear, the kind that hollowed you out from the inside. I hadn’t felt it like this since that night six years ago. Since trust had been weaponized against . Since I had believed soone and died for it.
Darius leaned closer, his face steady, eyes dark with sothing I didn’t want to na. "You’re safe."
I shook my head violently, the motion driven by pain and mory alike. "You don’t get to say that," I whispered. "Soone else said that once."
For the briefest mont, sothing flashed across his face. Understanding. "Trust ."
"I can’t."
The words broke as they left .
I reached inward desperately, clawing for the one presence that had not abandoned yet. El.
El, please. Tell what to do.
Her presence stirred faintly. Of course she was weak too. Trust him, she murmured, her voice distant. You are losing power.
The realization hit hard. I could feel it now—the drain, the unraveling. Whatever this was, it was stripping down to nothing.
Yet... I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t let go. Control was the only thing I had left.
A woman stepped into my blurred line of sight.
She wore an ancient tunic, linen faded to bone-white, embroidered with the sa symbols carved into the stone table. Her hair was braided tightly against her scalp, threaded with beads that caught the floating light. Her eyes were dark and knowing.
"Who are—" My voice cracked.
She reached out and pressed her fingers gently to my forehead.
The gold tint there flared faintly beneath her touch.
"Easy," she said softly. "You are awakening."
I shuddered violently.
Darius spoke again, his voice grounding and terrible all at once. "You’re at my ho. In the mountains."
The words barely registered.
"The mountains?"
Shock sliced through the pain, as my mind made calculations. The distance alone should have taken hours—days. How fast was an ancient, truly?
The woman stepped back, lifting her hands. "Trust us."
Then she started a strange chant.
Others joined her. Their voices layered together, low and rhythmic, weaving sothing thick into the air. I swallowed hard, breath coming too fast.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to fight. Instead, I sagged against the stone, and closed my eyes.
I drifted soon after. Not sleep. Not waking. Sothing thin and in-between.
Images bled into my mind that didn’t belong to . A crown heavy with gems pressing into a woman’s brow. A throne carved from bone and gold. A lone figure standing beneath a blood-red sky, power cracking the earth beneath her feet.
The first queen. The thought surfaced unbidden.
Then the nightmares returned—shadows with red eyes stalking in a world emptied of warmth.
Would the souls bla ? The ones who would die if I failed? Was that what these visions ant?
Pain surged again, dragging back into myself. Then it receded. Then it returned, sharper. Then duller. A rhythm I didn’t understand.
Hands steadied . A palm cupped my jaw.
Sothing pressed against my lips. A hand.
Darius. I knew his scent.
My instincts scread in warning. If I drank his blood... We would be connected.
My eyes fluttered open.
He was watching closely, expression intent. "It will bind us," he said quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "Our minds will touch. But we are not mates."
Mind connected.
The words made my stomach twist. It ant access, a second presence. Another voice inside my head.
I hesitated. I didn’t want anyone there. El was already too much.
Pain crashed into again, overwhelming, forcing a sob from my chest as my body arched helplessly.
"Do it," Darius urged softly. "It will help."
I whimpered, torn between fear and desperation.
Then my lips parted on their own. Pressure built in my gums until it ached. My fangs elongated.
I bit down.
The moan that tore from was involuntary, shaful and raw.
His blood flooded my mouth—warm, rich, intoxicating. It coated my tongue, sparks racing through like lightning. Power surged, ancient and imnse, filling the hollow places inside , stitching torn seams back together.
And a connection snapped into place.
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