Chapter Twelve
––––––––
Vex
Prophet has a small cabin on club land he uses as a chapel.
It’s also where he keeps his religious artifacts and texts.
The brothers and I give him shit about it, but he doesn’t care.
I only every come here when I’m searching for answers or when I need him to do a job for the club. It smells like incense and old paper.
Prophet has been holed up in here for three days, surrounded by texts so ancient the pages crumble at the slightest touch.
Books in languages I don’t recognize. Scrolls covered in symbols that make my eyes water when I look at them too long.
And in the center of it all, Prophet sits cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer.
Or communion.
With angels, it’s hard to tell the difference.
I stand in the doorway, watching him. Waiting.
The bond with Tessa hums in the back of my mind, a constant awareness of her presence upstairs, safe in my bed, finally sleeping after the sensory overload nearly drove her mad.
I can feel her dreams through the connection, fragmented images of ice, shadow and me.
Always me.
The guilt threatens to choke me.
“Come in, Vex.” Prophet’s eyes open, glowing faintly gold. “I’ve been expecting you.”
I step into the chapel, closing the door behind me. The wards Prophet has woven into this space make my skin prickle. Divine magic and vampire don’t always play well together but I ignore the discomfort.
“You found something,” I say. Not a question.
“I found everything.” Prophet gestures to the books spread around him. “Sit. This is going to take a while.”
I settle onto the floor across from him, and he picks up one of the scrolls. The parchment is so old it’s almost transparent, covered in script that shifts and moves when I try to read it.
“Angelic text,” Prophet explains. “One of the few surviving records of the First Binding.” He sets it down carefully. “Do you know what Alaska was before humans settled here?”
“Cold. Empty. Inhospitable.”
“Wrong.” His smile is grim. “It was a prison. Specifically designed by heaven to hold something that should never have existed in the first place.”
The temperature in the room drops several degrees. Outside, I hear the wind pick up, rattling the windows. Nature itself responding to the weight of what Prophet is about to tell me.
“The Khorvath,” I say.
“Yes and no.” Prophet pulls another book forward, this one bound in what looks disturbingly like skin. “The Khorvath is what it became. What it was originally... that’s more complicated.”
He opens the book, and the pages are filled with illustrations that move, living ink showing creatures of ice and shadow, towering forms that hurt to look at directly.
“In the beginning,” Prophet says, his voice taking on a rhythmic quality, “before humans walked the earth, there were the Primordials. Beings of pure elemental force. Fire and water, earth and air, light and dark. They shaped the world according to their nature, and for a time, there was balance.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”
“But,” he continues, “one of them went wrong. The entity tied to winter and endings became obsessed with entropy. With the idea that everything should return to the cold, silent void from which it came. It started consuming other Primordials, growing stronger, more twisted, until it became something new. Something hungry.”
The illustrations show it happening, a beautiful crystalline being slowly corrupting into the nightmare I saw at the homestead. Black ice and malevolence given form.
“Heaven intervened,” Prophet says. “They couldn’t destroy it, Primordials can’t truly die, so they did the next best thing. They bound it. Sealed it beneath the ice in what would eventually become Alaska.”
“How?”
“With a covenant.” He pulls out another scroll, this one covered in names written in blood. “They needed anchors. Beings powerful enough to hold the seal in place. They made a deal with three species: vampires, shifters, and humans.”
My hands clench into fists. “What kind of deal?”
“Your kind provided the immortality, vampires who would live long enough to maintain the seal across centuries. Shifters provided the strength and connection to the land. And humans...” He pauses, finger tracing down the list of names.
“Humans provided the bloodline. A family chosen by angels, blessed with divine protection, and tasked with one purpose, to guard the seal and ensure the Khorvath never wakes.”
“Wardens.”
“Exactly.” Prophet looks up at me, and his eyes are sad. “For three thousand years, it worked. The bloodline passed from generation to generation, each warden born with the mark of their covenant. Not visible usually, but always there. Always connecting them to the seal.”
“Until the permafrost started melting.”
“Until the permafrost started melting,” he confirms. “The physical seal is weakening. The bindings are fraying. And the Khorvath felt it, felt its chance at freedom. So, it did what any intelligent predator would do. It went hunting for the one thing that could either strengthen the seal or shatter it completely.”
“The current warden.” My voice comes out flat. Dead. “Tessa.”
“Tessa,” Prophet agrees. “The last of her bloodline. The final anchor. If it kills her, the seal breaks completely. If it claims her...” He trails off, but I can fill in the rest.
If it claims her, it can use her power to free itself. Use the very thing meant to bind it as the key to escape.
“How do we stop it?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Prophet sets the scroll down and leans back. “The original seal required willing sacrifice from all three species. A vampire, a shifter, and a warden, all choosing to bind themselves to the Khorvath’s prison. They died in the process, but the seal held.”
Ice floods my veins. “You’re saying we need to sacrifice Tessa.”
“I’m saying the prophecy requires a warden’s willing offering.” His voice is careful. Measured. “But prophecies aren’t always what they seem. There might be another way.”
“What way?”
“I don’t know yet.” He closes the book, and the moving illustrations freeze mid-motion. “But I’m working on it. The bond you created with Tessa... it might be the key. Vampire and warden, bound together. It’s unprecedented.”
“Or it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Both can be true.” Prophet stands, moving to the window.
Outside, snow has started falling in thick, heavy flakes that shouldn’t be possible in late afternoon.
“Heaven is watching, Vex. They’re waiting to see what you’ll do.
Whether you’ll sacrifice her for the greater good, or whether you’ll damn us all to save the woman you love. ”
The word hangs in the air between us.
Love.
I can’t deny it. Not anymore. Not with the bond making my emotions clear as crystal every time Tessa’s near.
“What does heaven want?”
“For you to prove monsters can choose something greater than their nature.” Prophet turns to face me. “Or to prove they can’t. Either answer serves their purpose.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“That’s heaven.” His smile is bitter. “They don’t see things the way we do. To them, this is all a test. A way to determine whether the covenant should continue or whether they should wipe the slate clean and start over.”
“And if we fail?”
“Then they’ll destroy every vampire, shifter, and supernatural creature in Alaska. Possibly further.” He says it calmly, matter-of-factly. “They’ll consider it a mercy. A cleansing. And they’ll find a new way to seal the Khorvath, one that doesn’t rely on monsters keeping their word.”
The weight of it crashes over me. Not just Tessa’s life. Not just mine. But everyone in the club. Everyone we’ve sworn to protect. The entire supernatural community in Alaska, all hanging in the balance.
“How long do we have?”
“Days. Maybe a week.” Prophet moves to the door. “The Khorvath is getting stronger every time it manifests. Soon it won’t need the mark as an anchor. It’ll be able to attack directly, and when that happens...” He doesn’t finish the sentence.
He doesn’t need to.
“I need to tell Blade.”
“He already knows.” Prophet opens the door. “I briefed him this morning. He’s in his office now, trying to figure out how to tell the club that their territory sits on an ancient battlefield and their VP just bound himself to the key that unlocks the apocalypse.”
“He must be thrilled.”
“Furious would be more accurate.” Prophet’s expression softens. “But he’s also pragmatic. He knows we need you and Tessa working together if we’re going to survive this. The bond might be a problem, but it’s also our best weapon.”
I stand, moving toward the door. “I should go see him.”
“Vex.” Prophet’s hand on my arm stops me. “Whatever happens, whatever choices you make... I want you to know I don’t blame you. The heart wants what it wants. Even when it belongs to a vampire who’s been alone for too long.”
The words hit harder than they should.
“Thanks,” I say roughly. “I think.”
He smiles. “Go. Your mate is waking up.”
Mate.
The word sends a jolt through the bond, and I feel Tessa stirring upstairs. Feel her confusion as she reaches for me and finds the bed empty. Feel her spike of anxiety when she remembers where we are and what’s happened.
I take the stairs two at a time. The hallway is empty, most of the brothers are out on runs or downstairs in the common room and I slip into my room quietly.
Tessa sits up in bed, her hair mussed from sleep, the blanket pooling around her waist. She’s wearing underwear and a tank top that’s ridden up slightly to expose a strip of skin, and the sight of her makes something primal in me roar to life.
Mine.
“Hey,” she says, her voice still rough with sleep. “Where did you go?”
“Talking to Prophet.” I close the door behind me, engaging the lock. “He found information about your bloodline. About what you are.”
Her eyes sharpen. “What am I?”