CHAPTER 29
HOURS LATER, or at least what feels like it, I’m jolted awake by a light hand on my shoulder. Irene stands over me, her hair pulled back and her face set in grim lines.
I rise with a start, my body protesting after the brief rest.
Around us, the Ravens are busy gathering armor and supplies. Ace stands off to the side, speaking in low tones with Kale.
“Here.” Irene presses a warm cup into my hand. “It’s herbal tea, a staple ritual before battle.”
“What’s inside?” I ask, lifting the cup to my nose, trying to discern the blend—sage… elderberry… something else, maybe valerian root?
It’s hard to tell, but definitely something earthy.
“Withania somnifera, to alleviate discomfort inflicted by wood.”
Ashwagandha.
“Artemisia vulgaris, to dull the searing ache of tungsten.”
Mugwort.
“Actaea racemosa, to mitigate the ravaging scourge of lumenite.”
Black Cohosh.
“And Atropa belladonna, to blunt the allergic blight of gardenia.”
Black, no—deadly nightshade.
“That’s toxic to humans,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“I know, which is why I only added a tiny, carefully measured dose in yours.” She lifts her own cup and drains it in one long swallow, a faint grimace crossing her features before she sets it down. “It’s safe, don’t worry. I use the same recipe for your brother all the time.”
The steam curls around my face, carrying the slight sting of heat. If they were trying to harm me here, they wouldn’t need to do it through poisoning.
“We do not have any citrus on hand right now, but I normally add a dash of it to make up for the lack of Calendula officinalis,” she says, “which protects against brief sun exposure—something you and your brother don’t need.”
Marigold.
Hearing Irene ramble about culinary fervors is strangely endearing, as if measuring out deadly nightshade and mixing in herbal substitutes are as ordinary as sprinkling salt on a stew. I suppose even they need to have hobbies and routines beyond the work they do.
I simply nod, the barest hint of a smile tugging at my lips.
The tea is bitter but I force it down, feeling its warmth spread through my chest as I watch the Ravens prepare around me.
Vitaed clothing is stripped off and replaced with new garments that won’t hinder their movement.
Reece flexes his arms after pulling on a dark, fitted shirt, while Palina secures her hair in a tight bun.
Kale steps up behind her, his long fingers brushing her shoulder as he helps twist the loose strands into place, his movements precise, as if they’ve done this countless times before.
My gaze drifts across the vault, eventually settling on Ace.
He stands with his back to me, pulling a fresh shirt over his head.
I’ve never seen him without the careful layers of clothing he uses as armor, making me curious about the things he chooses not to reveal.
Does he even know who he is without them?
His back and arms are a map of lean muscle, a testament to strength etched in flesh. The defined ridges of his shoulders taper to a narrow waist, his body honed like a weapon through what must be relentless training, fighting, and surviving.
He turns around, catching my stare. I don’t look away fast enough, and something like amusement flickers in his eyes, an acknowledgment that I’ve been caught. He slides his arms into a loose-fitted jacket and reaches for his mask, the final piece of his identity he’ll don before we leave.
“Finish your tea,” he says, his voice carrying through the chamber. “We move in five.”
I drain the cup, studying the others as they stretch, testing limbs and muscles for readiness, and I suddenly understand.
They are not just predators relying on their supernatural strength; they are warriors who have trained their bodies to perfect their natural advantages. No wonder they’ve survived this long.
“This way,” Kale says, walking over to a section of wall that looks no different from the rest. He pulls a lever cleverly built into a torch.
A seam appears, widening into a narrow passage.
One by one, we file into the tunnel. It’s tight and damp, the ceiling so low that we even have to duck in places.
The walls glisten with moisture, the only sound our breathing and the occasional drip of water from above.
After what feels like an eternity of walking, the tunnel widens into a small chamber. Another door stands before us, this one reinforced with steel, carved with symbols similar to those on the vault entrance. Kale places his hand on the lock the same way he did before, making it open silently.
Beyond lies not the open air I expected, but another chamber, this one filled with dozens of bloodmaids huddled together with frightened eyes.
I spot Oliver, Sophia, but not Lily.
“We’re missing a few,” I say, observing.
“They couldn’t make it to the tunnel in time,” Reece says, his usual charm absent. “Turned, most likely.”
I want to ask how many, but the grim set of their faces tells me I don’t want to know the answer.
Ace makes a gesture the whole group seems to understand, except me. Palina nods, then weaves through the bloodmaids, offering gentle touches and murmured reassurances. Kale follows her lead, his usual imposing presence softened as he carefully helps an injured woman to her feet.
Together, they head for another passage, guiding the bloodmaids elsewhere—safety, hopefully.
Everyone else follows Ace through the main door, so I do too.
It opens to reveal the night sky above and the dark surface of a lake stretching before us.
We’ve emerged from underneath the peninsula where the mansion stands, the water lapping gently at our feet.
The moon’s reflection ripples across its inky surface, and in the distance, I can make out the shore we need to reach.
“Stay low and quiet,” Ace instructs. “We swim from here.”
Without hesitation, he steps into the water and submerges himself, disappearing from sight completely. Reece follows, then Irene. I pause at the water’s edge, the cold already seeping through my boots.
“Can you swim?” Irene asks, treading water as she waits for me.
“Yes,” I say, but it’s been years since I’ve had to. I take a deep breath and step forward, gasping as the cold water touches my hips, then neck.
The shock passes quickly as I force my limbs to move, following the dark shapes of the underwater Ravens ahead.
I keep my strokes steady, matching their pace without exhausting myself, occasionally going to the surface to catch a breath.
My body can go without oxygen for far longer than a human’s, but it still depends on it to function.
Halfway across, my muscles begin to burn with the effort. The low temperature numbs my fingers and toes, making each movement more difficult than the last. I push on, focusing on the shore that refuses to grow closer no matter how hard I swim.
The pressure of the current grows with every push, the water and sky merging into opaque darkness, leaving me slightly disoriented and struggling to tell which way is forward.
Something wraps around my arm.
I nearly cry out before recognizing Ace’s masked face beside me in the water, realizing it’s his hand gripping me.
He points upward and we both break the surface. “You alright?” he asks, his voice barely audible over the lapping of waves.
“Yeah.” My breath comes in short gasps. “Just the water’s cold.”
I will myself to keep moving, but it’s hard. Harder than I’d like to admit. My human side isn’t built for these kinds of frigid conditions.
I adjust my stroke to conserve energy, then take a few sharp inhales, readying myself to dive again.
Ace watches me, and I can’t help but panic under the scrutiny of his gaze.
He could easily drown me if he wants. I know he’s thought about it.
I close my eyes in an attempt to center myself, but the weight of his assessment remains.
With one quiet inhale, I force myself underwater again and don’t look back, focusing on the pull of my arms as I kick forward, determined to get away from him before he decides to remind me what he’s capable of.
Two hands firmly grip the sides of my waist, fingers gently pressing into my stomach as I’m pulled forward with incredible force. My body tenses instinctively, but then the reality hits: he’s helping me.
I don’t resist, just continue swimming and letting him pull me faster through the water, unable to suppress the strange rush of heat that his touch sends through me despite the freezing cold.
When we reach the shallows, Ace moves ahead without a single glance back.
I stagger onto the shore, teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Irene hands me a vial and I down its contents without question, too cold to care what it might be. Almost immediately, heat blooms in my chest, spreading outward to my limbs. The shivering finally stops, and I straighten, aware of how vulnerable we are on this open shore.
Without wasting any more time, we slip into the forest, the Ravens forming a loose formation around me as we begin our journey toward Northcross, making me feel both shielded and trapped.
Ace is leading us at a grueling pace, forcing me to push my limits to keep up.
They all move with a kind of grace that barely disturbs the undergrowth, while I struggle not to trip over exposed roots and fallen branches.
Kale and Palina join us halfway.
After what feels like an hour of silent travel, the landscape begins to shift.
The wild, untamed forests surrounding Mythcrest gradually give way to the more ordered woodlands of Northcross territory and their carefully maintained perimeters, from the nearly invisible sensor points disguised as broken branches to the strategically cleared sight lines and the occasional watchtower.
I’ve patrolled these terrains countless times, and now I’m crossing them with the very creatures I yearned to destroy.