19. CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
L ater, Rowan sought refuge in the forest, where the night air was crisp and the earth breathed life. She wandered aimlessly, letting the frustration that knotted her muscles dissipate with each step.
“Stupid training. Stupid Casimir. Stupid . . . everything,” she muttered, kicking at a fallen twig, reduced to petulance by her aggravation.
Minutes passed, and the tension coiling within her eased. Surrounded by the untamed wild, her mind cleared, and she began to feel at peace, free from the constraints of expectations.
Leaves rustled softly nearby and something called to her—a faint current pulsing through the air.
“Hello?” she said, half expecting an answer. But there was only the silence, and the curious trickle of energy. It was almost as if the forest itself were offering her guidance.
She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind. The dribble of power swelled into a stream, guiding her movements.
Show me.
The pounding of her pulse in her ears made the forest sounds barely audible. Her eyes snapped open as she stumbled upon a clearing, lit by moonlight filtering through the canopy.
There, nestled in the mossy embrace of an ancient tree’s roots, lay a red bird, its wings splayed at unnatural angles. Rowan’s heart wrenched at the sight. The cardinal’s life force flickered weakly, like a flame in a breeze, threatening to extinguish at any moment .
“Hello, little one,” she said softly, lowering herself to crouch beside it. She delicately picked up the injured bird, cradling it with the utmost care and tenderness. “Don’t let the void claim you today. Not when I’ve only just met you.”
As she held the fragile life in her hands, she felt an inexplicable bond with the wounded creature. It seemed illogical to feel so much for something so small—yet she couldn’t help herself. Her empathy and compassion poured into the bird like a river breaking through a dam.
“Come on. Don’t give up. Fight.”
The connection between them grew stronger, and suddenly, the flow of power became a torrent, rushing through her veins, filling her with an icy sensation that was both foreign and familiar. Rowan’s skin prickled as the magic surged within her. She watched in wonder as the bird’s broken body mended before her eyes. Feathers realigned, bones fused, and the dullness in its tiny eyes transformed into a vibrant spark—mirroring the energy coursing through her.
She laughed in relief and amazement. “Impossible.”
The bird flapped its wings and Rowan’s laughter grew louder.
“Look at you,” she said, her voice full of affection as the bird cocked its red head, regarding her with newfound strength. “You’re stronger than you seem, aren’t you?”
The rush of her magic receded, leaving a lingering chill in its wake, but the bond between them remained.
“All right, little phoenix. Let’s discover what other wonders we can perform together.”
With her new companion nestled safely in her hands, she strode from the clearing, emboldened by the power that thrummed inside her.
Rowan spent the following days with the cardinal always close. Her companion, who she whimsically named Phoenix, seemed to understand her with an uncanny intelligence. He would hop onto her shoulder, his delicate claws surprisingly gentle, and nuzzle against her cheek with an affection that filled her with a sense of lightness and buoyancy.
She discovered Phoenix wasn’t an ordinary bird when he brought her gifts—small, shiny trinkets that glittered in the sunlight. A silver thimble, a bracelet with a broken clasp, even a tiny sapphire-studded earring. All were laid at her feet with pride. Each time, Rowan’s laughter rang through the air, filled with awe and delight .
“Smart, aren’t you?” she praised, stroking the bird’s vibrant feathers. “How do you know just what will catch my eye?”
Phoenix chirped in response, tilting his head as if understanding her words.
As the connection between them deepened, Rowan issued commands in playful tones. “Phoenix, to the windowsill,” she’d say, and he would flutter obediently to his perch. “Now to the door,” and again he would comply, swift and silent as a mouse. Even Casimir, who watched these exchanges with a brooding intensity, couldn’t mask his astonishment.
“Remarkable,” he said, his voice a low rumble that made Rowan’s temperature rise. “He doesn’t eat or drink like a normal bird. He follows your commands with unnerving obedience, almost as if he has the intelligence of a human child.” Casimir paused before adding, “Rowan, I suspect your necromancy brought him back from the brink of death. Phoenix is undead.”
Cora scrutinized the bird with newfound interest. “If that’s true, then maybe he can be more than just a pretty companion.” Her eyes lit up and she grinned mischievously. “Imagine the possibilities. A spy in the sky. A winged ally.”
As Rowan considered the idea, excitement bubbled up inside of her, but she also couldn’t ignore the danger of their situation. They were up against a master vampire whose cunning and malice knew no bounds. Having an advantage—any advantage—could turn the tides in their favor.
She looked from Casimir to Cora, her decision made. “Let’s find out just how valuable having an undead companion can be.”
Casimir nodded, his dark eyes alive with the thrill of strategy. “We can use Phoenix to scout the Reaper’s forces.” He rose from his seat, pacing the room like a wolf on the hunt. “But how will we understand his findings? We need a way for him to communicate with us.”
“Perhaps there’s a charm or spell.” Cora was already thumbing through an ancient leather-bound book she had produced from seemingly nowhere. Her fingers traced the weathered pages as she scoured the text for anything relevant. “Here.” She pointed to a passage of intricate script within the grimoire. “A familiar’s bond. It says that it’s possible to forge a link to see through the eyes of an animal companion. Let’s hope it works for undead companions as well.”
“Perfect,” Casimir said, his voice laced with dark excitement. “If we can train you to harness this connection, you could become our spy without ever having to leave safety or overexert yourself. ”
Rowan stood up from her chair, her heartbeat spiking in anticipation. “Let’s get started.”
The training was grueling. It demanded every ounce of concentration Rowan possessed. Under Cora’s guidance, she learned to extend her consciousness, to feel the presence of Phoenix as if he were a part of her own being. Casimir stood by her side, offering support and whispers of encouragement when the effort left her drained and trembling.
“Concentrate,” Cora ordered as they sat in a circle, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs and the soft glow of candlelight. “Let your mind find the tendril of thread connecting you to Phoenix. Close your eyes and imagine pulling on that thread.”
“Try to envision the world through his eyes,” Casimir added, his hand resting lightly on Rowan’s shoulder, grounding her. “You’re not just observing. You’re there, soaring above the earth, free and unhindered.”
With each session, Rowan felt the connection deepen, the barriers between her mind and Phoenix’s dissolving until she could almost taste the crispness of the open air, feel the rush of wind beneath wings that were not her own. A visceral thrill coursed through her veins, an intoxicating mix of power and freedom.
Despite her exhaustion, Casimir urged her on. “Don’t give up now. Everything depends on your success—maybe even our survival.”
Rowan closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind’s eye once more. And then something snapped into place, and there was clarity. She gasped as her vision shifted. The cottage walls were replaced by a vast expanse of sky, the ground a patchwork of greens and browns far below.
“I’m doing it,” she said in amazement. “I can see through his eyes.”
“Then we have our scout.” Cora’s words brimmed with pride. “And the Reaper won’t know what hit him.”
“Try to observe the details.” Casimir’s voice cut through the ethereal connection, tethering Rowan to the present moment. “What do you see?”
She focused. Phoenix’s keen eyes picked out minute details of the landscape below—a rustle in the underbrush, a shadow darting between the trees. It was like watching the world with magnified clarity.
“Three vampires to the east. A scouting party, moving silently, cloaked by the forest.”
“Good. We can set an ambush there.” Cora’s voice had a ruthless edge.
They gathered around the worn kitchen table littered with maps and ancient texts, their heads bowed close together. Rowan was keenly aware of Casimir’s solid presence next to her, his scent clouding her thoughts. She fought to suppress the heat that coiled in her lower belly at his proximity. This was not the time for such distractions.
“Are we ready for this?” Rowan asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety churning inside her.
“As ready as we can be,” Cora countered. “The Reaper’s vampires are already scouring the area and they’re bound to find us soon. He’s bringing this fight to our doorstep whether we’re ready or not.”
Casimir nodded and turned to Rowan. “We need to test your powers in a real fight, but with controlled conditions. With only three vampires in his scouting party, we can see what you’re capable of while Cora and I are there to protect you.”
“Remember your strength.” Cora patted Rowan’s arm. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
The air thrummed with the weight of impending conflict, the promise of bloodshed mingled with the sweet tang of possible victory.
“I’m ready,” Rowan said, her confidence increasing with their words of support. “Let’s take down the Reaper’s assassins.”
Casimir’s hand brushed against hers and a ripple of pleasure shot through her body. She stole a glance at him. His dark eyes reflected a mixture of emotions that mirrored her own: fear, anticipation, and an undeniable hunger for closeness they both tried to deny. His touch was brief but charged, and their gazes lingered, a silent conversation passing between them.
Cora cleared her throat loudly to catch their attention. “I suggest we go over the plan one last time. The Reaper’s vampires won’t skewer themselves.”
“Of course.” Rowan straightened her posture and lifted her chin, projecting confidence and strength. Her attention turned back to the maps scattered across the table, their edges curling like withered leaves. They ran through the plan with military precision, assigning roles, setting traps, and planning for contingencies. Phoenix fluttered onto Rowan’s shoulder, his eyes glinting with an intelligence that contradicted his small form.
“Tomorrow, we strike without mercy.” There was a deadly gleam in Cora’s gaze.
“Tomorrow,” Rowan repeated, the weight of the word heavy on her tongue. There was no turning back now. They had chosen their path, paved it with blood and magic, and now they would walk it—together.