5. Chapter 5
5
Chapter 5
Bronwen
I brushed through the gray mane of my horse, Shadow. There wasn’t a tangle in his mane because I had been obsessively brushing it for the past hour. It was the only thing that seemed to calm me over the last few weeks.
Shadow snorted softly, shifting his weight, his muscles rippling under my touch. I buried my face in the curve of his neck, his coarse mane brushing against my cheek. He smelled of warmth and familiarity, a reminder of simpler days when the world outside hadn’t felt so heavy.
“You keep me sane, don’t you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the barn’s quiet creaks and groans. Shadow flicked his ears back toward me as if he understood, his steady breathing matching the rhythm of my own.
The nightmares came every night, and though each one was different, they all ended the same way. I, well my soul in the body of someone else, was bitten and drained of blood by him every time. Every night, they became more vivid and the feelings, the fear I felt, the pain from the bite, the feeling of dying all grew stronger. I felt the person’s panic, their need to get back to their family and every time I woke up, I felt like I had lost someone I knew. They were real people. They weren’t made up scenarios that the mark had created. They were his victims. And I was going to experience dying through every one of them. Gods I’d hoped there weren’t too many, though the hope I had was slim.
Shadow jumped as if he felt the panic run through me as I recalled all of those nightmares. I ran my hand down his black back. His gentle snort broke the quiet, and I couldn’t help but smile faintly.
He was a wild horse we found when he was only a foal. He was frail and weak, and if anyone else would’ve found him, they would’ve left him to die but Papa wouldn’t do that. Papa brought him back to our barn, and I grew attached immediately. I hand fed him until he was back to health and even spent the first week sleeping in the barn with him. He grew so attached to me that I could let him out of the barn, and he would follow me everywhere without trying to run away—that’s how he got his name. He was my shadow.
As I leaned into his warmth, I closed my eyes and let the steady rise and fall of his breaths pull me back from the edge. Shadow wasn’t just my horse. He was my tether, my constant. And in moments like these, he was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
I reached for Shadow’s saddle, lifting it with ease as I draped it over his broad back. He shifted under the weight, snorting softly, his hooves stamping against the barn floor with growing impatience.
“Easy there,” I murmured, running a hand along his neck. Shadow’s ears flicked forward, and he pawed the ground as if urging me to hurry.
“You’re as impatient as ever,” I said with a faint smile, grabbing the bridle. He lowered his head obediently, letting me guide the bit into his mouth. As I fastened the straps, he tossed his head, his energy practically vibrating through him.
When I reached for the stirrup, Shadow let out an excited whinny, shaking his mane as though he could barely contain himself.
“All right, all right. Hold on,” I chuckled, stepping toward his side, ready to mount. Just as I placed my hand on the saddle, the barn door creaked open.
Papa walked in carrying a stack of wood. Even though Adar had spent most of his time away from the Legion helping Papa fix the barn, there were still a few tasks to be done.
Papa nodded his head, bidding me to come help him.
“Just a minute, Shadow,” I mumbled as I walked out of his stall.
I took a deep breath as I walked over to Papa. I had always been close with him, but I had done my best to avoid him these last few weeks. But one way I didn’t want to spend time with him was working on the barn. Sword fighting? Yes. Riding horses? Yes. Building a barn? Gods, no .
He dropped the stack of wood before picking up one to fill the small area that was exposed to the outside. I grabbed the other end and held it to the wall of the barn. Did I want to do it? No. But now was not the time to argue when he was already upset with me.
“How many times?” he asked as he hammered another nail into the piece of wood on the wall.
“What?” I asked as he kept his gaze on the task at hand .
“How many times have you gone out at night?” Papa’s question cut through the steady rhythm of his hammer. His tone was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something heavier—disappointment, maybe. Or worry.
I hesitated, my heart thudding in my chest. “I—I don’t know.”
He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes boring into mine. “How many, Winnie?”
“Too many times to count,” I whispered, the truth spilling out before I could stop it. The words felt heavy, like a confession, and I braced myself for his response. It had been nearly two years, and besides the times that I was too exhausted to get out of bed, I went every night. Sometimes for an hour or so and other times I stayed out until dawn.
“And how many did you find?”
That I knew the answer to.
“Twenty-seven,” I said quietly, avoiding his gaze.
His eyes widened. I should’ve lied.
“And you pulled all of their magic before killing them?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.
I nodded, my throat tightening as guilt and defiance warred within me.
His jaw tensed and he closed his eyes as he shook his head. “It is my fault. I’ve darkened your mind. For whatever reason you weren’t given a connection to magic, it happened and the gods do not make mistakes. You are playing a dangerous game and it has to stop. The more magic you get, the more you want and it will eventually consume you.”
“What has made you change your mind? None of this seemed to bother you on my birthdays.”
“I’ve seen it in the stars. ”
It took everything in me not to scoff at what he had said. I had never believed in the signs in the stars. If the gods wanted us to know something, I feel like they would be a little more obvious than putting discreet messages in the stars.
He handed me the hammer, and I tapped a nail into my end of the wood. We stayed silent for a while.
“I’ve had visions of you covered in darkness, Winnie. And you’ll take your brother with you.”
I swallowed hard, adjusting my grip on the hammer before driving another nail into place. The words settled over me like a heavy cloak, but I kept my gaze on the wood, focusing on the task in front of me.
“So are you going to forbid me from hunting?” I finally asked as we moved on to the next piece of wood. I ran my fingers over the grain, buying myself a moment before picking up another nail.
Papa exhaled slowly, wiping sweat from his brow before positioning the board. “Do you only go for the magic?” he asked. “Or do you see the good you are doing by killing vampires?”
I handed the hammer to Papa and pressed my palms against the cool wood. His question lingered, heavy with expectation. My thoughts churned, the weight of his words pressing against the call I felt deep within me. I traced a knot in the wood, the rough texture grounding me. When I first started, the rush of power was all that mattered. The night had become my escape, the darkness a solace that shielded me from feeling powerless.
The hammer finally struck, breaking the moment of stillness. The sharp sound brought me back, my fingers curling into fists against the wood. The weight of what I’d done—and what I might yet do—hung in the air between us.
Do I see the good I’m doing? Of course. Do I care that I am saving the naive humans? No. They should be smarter.
But I did enjoy the power I felt from killing vampires.
“I know you well enough to know you have been going with the goal of pleasure, and I will not support you with that. You have to change your mindset. Magic distracted you and nearly got you killed. If you can promise me that you are going with the purpose to kill vampires, and not for magic, then you can go.”
“I will go to kill vampires.”
I stepped back after the words left my mouth, unsure if I even believed them. The truth was murky, tangled in the rush of power I felt when siphoning magic and the faint satisfaction that came from the kill. I had wanted so badly for his approval, to prove I could be what he expected of me. But could I really change? The night whispered promises of strength, a freedom that felt impossible to deny. And yet, here he was, looking at me as if I could be more than what I had let myself become. His gaze lingered, heavy and hopeful, making the weight of my promise feel like another chain binding me to expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet.
He let out a huff of frustration before grabbing me by both shoulders. “Winnie, promise me you will take when necessary but only take the amount you need. Nothing more.”
I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. Could I promise that? The magic had a pull that was impossible to ignore, a hunger that grew with every drop I siphoned. I wanted to tell him I could change, but deep down, I feared the truth.
I nodded, forcing myself to meet his gaze, even as the doubt clawed at me. “I promise. ”
He kissed my forehead before walking to an old wardrobe he kept in the far corner.
“Here.” He handed me something wrapped in cloth.
The weight pressed against my palms as I unwrapped the fabric, revealing the stakes. Their rough, unpolished surface seemed to hum with purpose, as if they carried the burden of every life they would end. I ran my fingers along the grain of the wood, feeling the jagged edges where they had been carved. This wasn’t just a weapon—it was a reminder of the responsibility I carried every time I stepped into the night. Papa’s eyes lingered on me, heavy with unspoken words. “I know you like fire, but it doesn’t hurt to have other options.”
Shadow struck his stall door, letting out a loud huff. “Now go ride Shadow before he decides to break the other barn wall.”
His words clung to me as I mounted Shadow. Visions of darkness, taking Adar with me—what did he mean? The questions lingered, pressing against my thoughts as I rode into the midday sun.
***
“And where were you when Papa had me hammering wood to a wall?” I narrowed my eyes as Adar walked into the kitchen. I’d grown used to my brother disappearing for hours and returning with messy hair and flushed skin, though the thought always made me nauseous.
“I thought the two of you could use some alone time to discuss some things.” He laughed which did nothing but irritate me further. He walked to the counter and looked through the jars of various fruits and vegetables Mama had been working hard to put up the past few weeks to ready us for winter.
My anger quickly dissipated as I watched him fill his satchel with sweet bread and jams. I had tried to push back the thought that he would be leaving again, but it couldn’t stop the inevitable. And today was that day.
“How long until I’ll see you again?” I walked over to a small cabinet and grabbed the grape jam I had hidden from him.
Adar paused for a moment, his hand resting on the strap of his satchel as his eyes softened. For a moment, he seemed almost hesitant, his fingers brushing the worn leather of the strap as if weighing something unsaid. “I’m not sure,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “Several months if I had to guess.”
A lump formed in my throat, but I pushed it down, forcing a smile as I handed him the jar. “Just . . . come back,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. His eyes met mine, and for a fleeting second, the teasing facade he always wore cracked. There was something there—regret, maybe, or worry. It made my chest tighten.
He rested a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but warm. “Always,” he said with a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. But the flicker of doubt in his gaze didn’t fade.
Before he could step away, I pulled him into a hug, holding on tighter than I meant to. He stiffened for a moment before exhaling and wrapping his arms around me. Neither of us spoke, the weight of his departure settling between us in the silence. Finally, he pulled back, his hands lingering on my shoulders for a second longer.
It lingered until he turned and walked toward the door. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor echoed in the silence, and for a long moment after he was gone, I stood there, staring at the empty space where he’d been, wondering what he wasn’t telling me.