I hand him my coat without breaking my stride. "The storm says otherwise."
I head straight to the elevator, my steps brisk and echoing on the marble floor. The butler runs over to catch up with me, pressing the button before I can reach it. The doors slide shut, and we descend. Past the ground floor. Past the wine cellar.
The elevator stops at the second basement level.
The doors open into a large, climate-controlled space, a well-ventilated room lined with shelves upon shelves of ancient books, the scent of old paper and ozone heavy in the air. I don't look at the books. I walk straight to the iron spiral staircase in the center of the room and look down.
Below, bathed in the dim light of the machinery, is a coffin-shaped tube.
My father lies inside. He has been still for almost two centuries, hibernating in the deep, regenerative sleep of the Elders. He is hooked up to life-support, an intricate intravenous feeding system designed to sustain him during this long, self-imposed fast. Vampire Elders enter this state to preserve their power and sanity, and he has been this way for so long that his presence usually feels like part of the architecture.
It has been incredibly quiet down here for two hundred years. Until today.
The storm raging outside is a physical manifestation of his returning consciousness. He is waking up.
I walk down the spiral stairs, the metal cold under my hand. I reach the bottom and approach the coffin. His face is pale, timeless, and terrifyingly still. I place my hand on the cold glass of the tube, feeling the faint vibration of the machinery humming to life.
I lean in close, my breath fogging the glass slightly.
"Father," I whisper, my voice trembling just a little. "I almost thought you didn't want to wake up... why now?"
There is no response. Just the hum of the machine and the distant rumble of thunder shaking the foundations of the earth.
***
Lyra POV
All of Lyrna's memories flood my mind, crashing into my consciousness like a tidal wave merging with the ocean of my own ancient soul. I gasp, clutching my head as the two lives knit together—the centuries-old witch and the abused young woman.
I wake up before dawn. I get up in a daze, my head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. But through the pain, my mind is clear. My job here is done. The debt to the vessel is paid. Now, I have my own mission.
I need to find out what happened to my daughter. I need to know what became of my coven. But to do that, I need resources. Information costs money, and travel costs more.
I was never one to leave my fate to chance. In the past, before the fire and the betrayal, I had a safety net. A hidden cache where I stashed all my possessions, from gold bars to uncut gems. My mother taught me well: always hide valuables in case of emergencies. The world is cruel to our kind, and a backup plan is the only thing that separates the survivors from the ash.
I have to travel there. But first, I have to figure out the modern name of Ravenna Mountain, where my coven used to live. The geography in Lyrna's memories is limited to this small, miserable town, so I will need a map.
I walk through the silent living room. Al's corpse has long grown cold, his body curled on the floor, covered in burns and boils that make it hard to even make out his face. I feel nothing as I step over their cold bodies. They are just debris now.
I enter Al and Pam's master bedroom. The air smells stale. I peel off the muddy, stiff clothes that have long crusted on my body, leaving a trail of dried dirt on the carpet.
Using Lyrna's memories, I walk into the bathroom and turn on the water. It flows instantly, hot and steady. Everything seems new to me, even though I technically possess Lyrna's knowledge of plumbing and faucets. The difference is that this is now my lived experience, not just a memory. The sensation of on-demand hot water is a luxury I never took for granted in my past life.
I wash my hair with shampoo—a sweet, artificial scent of vanilla. The water dripping down into the drain turns a murky brown from the mud and grave soil. I scrub my entire body, washing away the grave, the abuse, and the smell of the coffin. When I am done, I just stand there for a minute, letting the warm water run down this thin, scarred skin.
After the warm shower, I step out and towel dry my hair. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—pale, thin, but with eyes that burn with a focus Lyrna never had.
I go through their closet. Pam's clothes are too large, but I find some oversized sweaters and leggings that I can make work. They look good enough to wear.
I realize I need money. I rifle through their drawers and cupboards, pushing aside cheap jewelry and papers. Hidden in a sock drawer, I find a stack of cash. It's their hoard, likely money they stashed for emergencies. I don't know if it is enough to get me to the Ravenna Mountains, but I take it all.
I pack a few more clothes into an old backpack I find in the corner. I slide my feet into a pair of sturdy boots.
I walk out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. The pre-dawn air is crisp and cold.
Standing outside the house, I turn back one last time. I don't need evidence left behind. I reach into the well of my magic, pulling a spark of pure destruction.
Using my power, I cast the spell. The house is suddenly engulfed in vicious flames, the fire roaring to life in every room simultaneously. Windows blow out, and the heat rolls over me in a wave.
I don't stay to watch it burn. I pull the brim of my cap lower and flip my hood over it. I turn my back on the inferno and walk away into the morning mist.