---
Virella wrapped Isolde's hand in strips of her own cloak, fingers trembling. The girl's body was still feverish, slick with swamp water and sweat. Her breathing was shallow, but steady.
"Come on, Izzy. Stay with me," she whispered.
The swamp no longer whispered. It watched.
Naera was gone, but her presence lingered like rot in the trees. The sigil beneath Isolde had cracked open, revealing old bones wrapped in thorns—and a scroll sealed in blood-wax.
Virella tucked the scroll into her belt. Rian would know how to read it. Maybe.
"Help me," Isolde rasped, her voice raw. "She's still in me."
Virella touched her friend's cheek. "She's not. Not fully."
"Liar."
"I know," Virella admitted, tears clinging to her lashes. "But I'm going to fix this. Even if I have to carve Naera out of your mind myself."
She lifted Isolde into her arms, the swamp groaning underfoot. In the distance, crows took flight—hundreds of them, blackening the sky.
The sleepers were stirring.
And Serinhold had become a wound in the world.
---
Alaric didn't trust Eira.
Not completely.
But as they climbed out of Arvale's buried vault, he couldn't deny she was powerful—and strangely drawn to him.
She walked beside him barefoot, her eyes scanning the ruined skyline.
"Where will you go now?" she asked.
He looked west. "To Virella."
"She is bound to something deeper than you know," Eira said. "I saw it in her blood."
"She's stronger than anyone gives her credit for."
"She's like you," Eira murmured. "Half and half. Human in heart, something else in bone."
Alaric paused. "What do you mean?"
Eira smiled faintly. "You'll see."
They reached the surface, where the wind howled across scorched stone. A raven circled above. Eira raised her hand—and it landed on her arm.
"She's been watching from Serinhold," Eira said, reading the bird's blood-slicked feathers. "Naera is awake. But not whole."
Alaric clenched his fists. "Then we still have time."
Eira's voice dropped. "Time for what, wolf-prince?"
"To warn her. To stop Varen."
Eira touched his cheek gently. "You think this war is about Varen. But it isn't. He's just the match. The fire was already here, waiting."
Alaric stepped back. "You speak in riddles."
"No," she said. "I speak like someone who remembers how the world ends."
----
Callum awoke to pain and light.
The ceiling above him was cracked stone, illuminated by the soft blue glow of Kyden's runes. Zerius sat nearby, sharpening his blade. Mara was gone.
His first thought was: She took her.
Then: I failed.
"Easy," Zerius said as Callum sat up. "You've been out for a day."
"Mara?"
"They didn't kill her. Took her. Maelis said she was a vessel."
Callum winced, touching the cut across his ribs. "She bled her for something."
"She bled her to unlock something," Kyden said, stepping in. "I traced the markings. Whatever was sealed down here—it's not just a sleeper. It's a source. A font of original blood."
Callum swore. "Varen's looking for the original vampire."
Kyden nodded. "Or maybe… the first mother. The one who made the rest."
Silence.
Zerius stood. "What now?"
Callum's voice was cold. "We hunt Maelis. We get Mara back. And we close whatever door they just opened."
"But first," he said, pulling himself upright with a grunt, "we need to warn the others."
---
4. Varen's Temple
Far away, in a mountain hollow laced with ice and bone, Varen stood before a mirror that reflected nothing.
Beside him, Maelis knelt, blood dripping from her hands into a silver bowl.
"She was pure," Maelis said. "But not untouched."
"She'll do," Varen replied.
From the bowl, red light flared.
The water rippled, revealing a face.
A man. Elder. Fanged. Eyes like wells of night.
The First.
"Your time approaches," Varen whispered. "The blood gates open."
The face in the water did not speak.
But it smiled.
And Varen smiled back.
-----