The village was eerily silent. If Fen was certain the men were here, there should have been people moving around the huts.
Then the sharp metallic scent of blood reached his nostrils.
A bloodied man staggered from the side of a hut, screaming, "You're no man. You're a beast."
The sound of hooves echoed behind him. Fen approached on horseback, flanked by the army sorcerer and a line of soldiers.
"Your powers overwhelm you, vessel of satan," the sorcerer said, raising his metal cross.
From the shadows, the bodies of his men, children, and women began crawling toward him.
The earth beneath him liquefied, forcing him to his knees. His sacrifice for humanity, thrown away as he was no longer one of them.
Then Elana appeared in his arms, her warm human body streaked with blood, adding to the crimson that soaked the earth. Her grey eyes met his, wide with hurt.
Azael's eyes snapped open. Cold sweat coated his skin.
He sat up, he had tried to sleep, to quiet the demon clawing inside him for Elana's innocence.
Her face haunted him—the tears he made her shed, her trembling attempts to keep the scarf over her breasts—temptation he had not intended now clawing at his restraint.
He rose, feeling the weight of his curse, and slowly approached the door where his coffin lay.
He opened it, the smell of the sorcerer's incense strong in the air.
The memory of Elana backed against the wall, in her maiden state, in his lair.
He entered, rows of candles, their flames eternal, lined both sides of the narrow room on wooden shelves, crafted by long-dead carpenters.
Their glow illuminated the path to darkness at the far end.
He needed to suppress these feelings—for her sake.
The coffin, dark brown and embroidered in gold, opened as if sensing his approach.
The cage his brothers had prepared—the only gift they had offered for his sacrifice.
The only place a vampire such as him could truly rest.
He had not slept in decades. The silence of the coffin, heavier than any bed or memory. But now, he had no choice.
He had to quiet the longing for the human girl who made him so wanton.
The soft, thin feel of the insides of the coffin enveloped him as he lay down. Eyes drifting close, the coffin closed with him inside.
The silence was deafening—yet for the first time almost peaceful.
**
King Victor seethed on his throne as he watched Syrus approach.
Before Syrus even reached him, Victor snapped, "Did you hear the rumors?"
"My king," Syrus bowed briefly. "Most of these subjects are ingrates. They know nothing of all you've sacrificed for them."
"The traitors. And the blind girl," Victor said, "It's been a full day and my soldiers haven't seen any sign of them. I do not like this."
"Perhaps we should focus on reminding the people why you are king and why disrespect of your authority will not be tolerated," Syrus said.
Victor fell silent. The rumors were true after all. He had put soldiers' and civilians' lives on the line for his own ambition—for the expansion of his kingdom.
He wasn't interested in punishing the civilians for their accurate speculations.
He was more interested in recovering the escaped soldiers. Getting Cara back—the former second-in-command in his army.
"I suggest you take their eldest sons into the next war," Syrus said. "Except the nobles, of course. It'll teach them to hold their tongues and bolster our forces. Victory is guaranteed with numbers."
Victor sighed, "Most families left from the war are few. Perhaps we could arrest anyone spreading these rumors and punish them in the open."
"Nonsense, my king," Syrus replied. "Your power is absolute. Nobles can carry on strong bloodlines, the rest are spawns of slaves and commoners—only useful on the battlefield."
"And you?" Victor asked. "Anything new in this Ancient's territory that you've been observing?"
Syrus paused before he answered. Victor remembered growing up with the mage, inheriting from his father, who had passed down to him.
Both taught him that a man's worth was his power and how far his kingdom reached.
But Syrus always unsettled him. Still, his advice always worked—even if cruel.
"In that case, let the soldiers from the last war return first," Victor said, though he was eager to move on to the next step.
A soldier ran in, kneeling.. "My king! The body of one of the prisoners was found."
Victor's heart dropped, body? "Which?" he prayed it wasn't Cara.
"The old man," the soldier said. "Looks like he was attacked by animals."
Victor's eyes slid to Syrus. "There are no dangerous animals in these lands."
Syrus smiled beneath his cloak."War brings imbalance, my king. It exposes humans…and makes them prey to otherworldly predators."
"Keep searching for the other prisoners," Victor said. "I want them back—dead or alive."
**
Back in the castle…
"This guy's a brute," Zane said, clenching his fists. "We can take him out strategically and save Elana."
"Give it a rest, Zane," Cara said, laughing at something Caesar said while sitting on his lap by the fountain. "It's just a hickey."
Zane saw red. Was she really dismissing Elana's safety?
He didn't care how powerful the man was—Zane was going to give him a piece of his mind.
Elana was sad and wanted to come with them, that was all that mattered.
He felt obligated to protect her—especially from monsters.
It was morning. They'd already had breakfast.
He had to admit, the food was good and the hosting was immaculate. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
He actually enjoyed it—especially since Azael hadn't joined them today.
This man seemed to be worshipped by luxury, not the other way round. So full of himself. It boiled Zane.
They sat in the field—the only part of the castle they were allowed to explore.
The nice little lady who looked both aged and youthful had brought them new clothes that morning. Trisha—that was her name.
Zane felt paranoid. He hoped they weren't in a trap.
The pale complexions of the people that looked human in this castle unsettled him, but not as much as the man who had nearly killed them with a pack of man-sized wolves.
Caesar had called them werewolves—creatures that had begun terrorizing at the height of the war.
Only 'silver bullets' could kill them though they hadn't worked on the man who knocked Caesar out.
His eyes caught Elana being led in by Trisha. He approached, feeling Cara's glare burning into his back.
She was beautiful. Now wearing a dark purple and much decent dress compared to the one she wore yesterday.
Her unique colored hair was in a loose bun, exposing the elegant line of her neck. He took her soft hand slowly.
"You look stunning, Elana," he said, noting the blush spreading across her face.
Trisha chuckled, "Now now. You guys have a relaxing day. Call a minion if you need anything."
Then she left.
Zane led Elana to the rock bench.
"You look better than yesterday," he said.
"Trisha gave me new clothes. Better fit too," she replied.
"I'm going to speak to that man—so you can come with us."
A shadow of doubt crossed her face, "If he says it isn't safe…we could wait."
"Even if it isn't," Zane said, lifting her chin, " I can protect you, myself. I'll never make you cry, Elana."
She withdrew her hand, turning her chin away. "I can take care of myself."
"I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it," Zane said.
A striking woman appeared—black smoke curling behind her, loose brown hair, leather shorts, crimson blouse, her skin also deathly pale.
What were these people?
She scanned the field, crimson eyes locking on Zane and Elana. Trisha appeared instantly, blocking her.
"And what are you doing here, Eira?" Trisha demanded.
Eira rolled her eyes, circling. Zane stepped protectively in front of Elana. Trisha stopped Eira before she could reach them.
"You haven't answered my question." Trisha pressed, angry.
Eira scoffed, "I'm here for a little vacation. Azael did mention I could visit anytime, right?"
"We already have company," Trisha replied. "We don't need more."
Eira leaned closer. "You never appeared when I was around before. Afraid I might hurt your blind pet? I'm only curious."
"Behave yourself, Eira. That disgusting aura of yours reeks with jealousy." Trisha spat, then vanished.
Pain flickered across Eira's face. She clenched her fists but folded her arms upon reaching Zane. "Move."
"What do you want?" he asked, standing firm.
Her lips, painted black curled with a smile, "Just want to say hi. Why is everyone so defensive?"
"Zane!" Cara called, approaching with Caesar.
Eira rolled her eyes and muttered, "I don't want any trouble."
"Who's that?" Elana asked, standing. Eira appeared at her side.
"My, my," she said, "You're quite pretty."
"You're pretty too," Caesar said, prompting a glare from Zane and Cara.
Eira smiled, but kept her eyes on Elana.
"Thank you," Elana said softly.
Zane's unease grew. Eira's energy was unsettling, almost deceptive with the way she observed Elana.
She turned to them, "I'm Eira. Friends of Azael are definitely friends of mine."
Zane noticed Caesar staring at her, hardly hiding his awe. Cara simply walked away, annoyed.
"Azael's my man," Eira added.