CHAPTER 27 #3
We returned to that wretched orphanage, its halls still reeking of fear, maltreatment, and the quiet despair of children kept under lock and key.
The matron sells them out to vetalas: vampires who crave the blood of the young.
Ascelin and I leapt through the window, leaving a bloodbath in our wake.
The chains that had bound those children for so long had finally broken, most of them taken into foster care afterward, but not these few: Reece, Kale, Palina, Hanae and Irene.
They wanted to be like us. To be vampires.
I told them the truth: power is not a gift without consequence.
Vampirism can grant strength, speed, and immortality—but it can also destroy the unprepared.
I promised them that if they still desire this path when they come of age, it will be theirs.
Tonight was confirmation of what I had always known: it is not enough to survive.
One must also protect, guide, and teach.
After reading the final entry, I flip through the pages that are still left empty. She must have been taken soon after, never to see the light of night again. But I push the thought away, not wanting to focus on that right now.
I close the journal and hold it against my chest like a lifeline.
“She chose Dad over everything,” I whisper. “Over her family, her safety, her entire world.”
“And she chose us,” Saul says, leaning back against the headboard. “Even when it meant losing everything else.”
For the first time since childhood, I feel connected to her—not as a ghost or a memory, but as a person who faced impossible choices and somehow found the strength to keep fighting.
She had been lonely, cut off from worlds in ways neither of us could have understood as children.
“There’s more.” Saul rises from the bed and moves to the wardrobe, reaching behind the hanging clothes to retrieve a wooden box. “I found this the last time I was here.”
Inside lie letters, dozens of them, tied with ribbon. The handwriting is different from the journal entries, more hurried.
I recognize it immediately as my father’s script.
“Love letters,” I breathe, lifting one carefully.
“Read them,” Saul encourages. “You’ll understand why she could not let go. Why she prioritized what she did.”
I untie the ribbon with reverent fingers, selecting a letter at random. The paper is worn soft from handling, evidence that our mother had read these words countless times.
My dearest Seena,
The children ask about you daily. Saul insists you’re coming home soon, though I can see the doubt growing in his eyes. Seraph still sleeps with the doll you made her, whispering secrets to it as if it might carry them to you.
I know you’re fighting hard for something bigger than us, something that might make their futures possible. But I selfishly wish you were here to see Seraph take her first steps, to hear Saul babbling little rhymes.
These moments feel incomplete without you.
Penn City’s peace remains ever so strained, and I fear what’s coming. If you can’t return soon, I may have to take the children to Redmoore. Start training them. I’ll wait as long as I can, but their safety must come first.
I love you. Whatever happens, remember that.
We chose each other, and I would choose you again in every lifetime.
Forever yours,
Roman
Tears blur my vision again as I fold the letter gingerly.
This wasn’t just a forbidden romance. It was a family torn apart by forces beyond our control.
A love story with no happy ending, only sacrifice and loss.
I stand, moving to the window where our mother once sat, looking out at the grounds below.
Somewhere out there, Cain holds her prisoner, still waiting for someone to bring her home.
I’m unable to still the water in my eyes. “The Ravens weren’t just her rebellion, they were her legacy. Her gift to us. Saul, we have to find her and finish what she started.”
“We will,” Saul promises. “But first, you need to understand what you’re truly fighting for. This can’t be about revenge anymore, Sister.”
“How are the Ravens different from Penn City?” I ask. “What you want, they have already built.”
“You still don’t get it.” Saul sits on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped between his knees. “Everything in Penn City is for show, built to keep vampires just alive enough not to rebel, so the humans can sleep at night. With the Ravens, it’s not about control, but respect.”
As much as I would like to argue back—and I could—there’s not inherently something wrong with what he’s saying. Perspectives differ, because people choose from their own truths.
Whether I agree isn’t what matters anymore. What matters is who I become in the quiet choices, not the loud words of others.
I look down at the journal in my hands, then at the letters scattered on the bed. Our mother faced her own hardships and chose love over hatred, hope over despair.
She built something lasting in a world determined to tear it down.
And now it’s my turn to choose.
I glance out the window once more, catching a flicker of movement in the garden below. My heart stutters as I recognize the silhouette sitting cross-legged beneath a giant oak tree.
“Max?” I breathe, pressing my palm against the glass.
He’s perfectly still, his back straight, hands resting on his knees in a meditative pose I’ve never seen him adopt before.
“Saul, look,” I say, pointing. “It’s Max. He’s outside.”
My gut knows it isn’t him. Not the real him. It can’t be. But how badly do I want it to be? My chest tightens, the hope growing inside me in a way I cannot shake. I’ve missed him so much, my body almost tricks itself into believing the unreal, the impossible.