Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Damien
The fae Summer Court materialized around me—a place I hadn’t seen in centuries.
Golden light filtered through crystal spires that should not exist in the Wolf Queen Crypt. Impossible architecture of living branches intertwined with precious metals. The scent of nectar and magic thickened the air.
Home.
A place I desperately wanted to forget.
My body felt wrong—lighter, almost buoyant.
I looked down to find myself dressed in the formal regalia of the Summer Court crown prince: gossamer robes woven with sunlight, the royal circlet resting on my brow.
My skin had lost its vampire pallor, returning to the golden glow of Summer fae nobility.
“Welcome home, Dahmien.”
My father’s voice. My true name in the Old Tongue, pronounced as it should be, with the subtle inflection that human tongues often struggled to capture.
He stood before the throne, tall and terrible in his beauty, his crown of twisted living branches and summer blossoms floating above his head rather than resting upon it. He was just as ethereal and eternal as I remembered him.
And just as cold.
“This isn’t real,” I said, hearing the musical quality of the fae returning to my voice. “You’re dead.”
“Indeed.” My father’s perfect features arranged themselves in an expression of disapproval I knew all too well. “Thanks to you.”
Spectral courtiers materialized around the throne room, those from the noble houses of the Summer Court, faces I had known since childhood. All watching. All judging.
Among them stood a woman of imposing presence, her features shifting subtly between human and wolf. The Wolf Queen, observing me from within my illusion.
“Crown Prince Dahmien of the Summer Court,” my father’s voice rang out, “you stand accused of abandoning your kingdom in its hour of need. How do you answer?”
Was the Wolf Queen’s trial an actual trial, born out of my subconscious?
“You already know the answer,” I said. “I made a choice.”
“Yes,” said my father. “You chose a human woman over your duty to your court and crown.”
The accusation burned like silver against vampire flesh. Before I left, I’d convinced myself that my choice had been noble, motivated by love rather than selfishness. But after…I realized I’d made a grave mistake.
“Tell us, Prince,” the Wolf Queen said, her voice cutting through the illusion, “why did you leave your kingdom?”
I remained silent, and pain lanced through me, not physical but something deeper, magical. Fae magic burning through my system like acid through paper.
“The trial requires truth,” she said.
The court around me rippled as my resistance weakened the illusion. I’d spent centuries burying these memories, constructing a vampire persona that excluded my fae beginnings for my own mental survival. Admitting the truth meant dismantling that careful construction.
“I fell in love,” I finally said, the words like ash in my mouth. “With a mortal woman named Theodora. She lived in a village near the border of our realm.”
The court scene shifted, memories projecting around us—a dark-haired woman with laughing eyes, her hands stained with dyes from her seamstress work. A human with no magic, no title, no immortality. Just extraordinary courage and kindness.
“And when I commanded you to end this inappropriate dalliance?” my father pressed.
Another stab of magic forced the truth from my lips. “I refused. I told you I would renounce my claim to the throne rather than give her up.”
The scene shifted again, showing the throne room as it had been the day I voiced my decision. My father’s rage manifested as actual summer lightning crackling through the chamber, courtiers pressed against the walls in fear.
“And then?”
“You banished me.” The words came easier now, the pain of resistance fading as I surrendered to truth. “Cut me off from the court’s magic. Forbade any fae from offering me shelter or assistance.”
My father’s spectral form nodded. “And what became of your kingdom after your…departure?”
The court dissolved, replaced by scenes of war and devastation. The Winter Court’s armies marching through familiar forests. Ice spreading over summer gardens. Bodies of fae I had known from childhood lying broken on bloodstained ground.
“The Winter Court invaded three months after I left,” I said, watching the fall of my homeland play out around me. “They had been waiting for a moment of weakness.”
“Because your absence created a power drain. The Summer Court needed its prince.” My father’s image approached me. “And where were you while your people died, my son?”
The scene changed again—a modest cottage in a human village. Me, still fae but diminished without court magic, holding a dying Theodora’s hand.
“I was trying to find a way to transform Theodora. To save her because she was sick,” I admitted. “I heard rumors of an alchemist who had discovered such secrets.”
“Elliot,” the Wolf Queen said.
I nodded. “He promised a solution. He didn’t specify what kind at first.”
The cottage dissolved, replaced by a dark laboratory lit by strange blue flames. Elliot mixed potions while I waited impatiently. Little did I know that the solution to my problem wouldn’t be found in a potion.
“He tricked you,” my father said.
“He didn’t lie,” I corrected. “He promised transformation. He delivered it.”
The Wolf Queen cocked her head to the side. “And you sought transformation as well?”
I nodded. “Without fae magic, I was also very sick.”
The memory played out in front of me—my body convulsing as vampire infection spread through fae blood. Something darker, hungrier, had devoured the rest of the Summer Court within me. I’d screamed as vampire need overwrote my fae existence.
When the transformation finished, I was something new—a vampire with fae memories, and fundamentally changed.
“And Theodora?” the Wolf Queen asked.
Pain constricted my chest. “She waited for me to return. I was…incapacitated by the transformation for decades, but I asked Elliot to turn her right after he turned me. By the time we sought her out…”
The scene shifted one final time—a simple human graveyard. A fresh grave. Theodora died three days before I reached her.
“I was too late,” I whispered.
Collective grief—not just mine but my kingdom’s—crashed over me like a physical wave. I fell to my knees as the emotional onslaught overwhelmed my senses, crumbled me beneath the weight of truth.
The scene changed again, showing my early vampire years—a dark, vengeful creature hunting members of the Winter Court across Europe. Blood and death followed in my wake.
“You blamed them for everything,” the Wolf Queen said. “The Winter Court and your wolf allies who were supposed to help you at the first sign of an attack, and didn’t. You blame everyone except the one truly responsible.”
I looked up sharply. “I’ve had centuries to understand my responsibility.”
“Have you?” The Wolf Queen’s form solidified, becoming more substantial than the other apparitions. “Or have you merely found new masks to wear while you continue to seek revenge?”
The spectral courtroom transformed again, showing scenes from my modern existence—the feared enforcer for Elliot, the cold tracker of supernaturals.
“You hide behind duty now,” she continued, “even though you once fled from it. You build walls of protocol and propriety.”
Each word struck with precision. I remained kneeling, silent.
“What remains of the fae prince who valued love above power?” she asked.
Inside me, conflict raged. My vampire nature warred with my fae heritage, my careful control battling against buried truth.
My body manifested the struggle physically; my skin flickering between vampire pallor and fae glow, fangs extending and retracting, the weight of centuries pressing down upon me.
“He’s still here,” I admitted, my voice raw. “Buried deep.”
“Because you’re afraid.” Nodding, the Wolf Queen circled me like a predator. “Afraid of what?”
“History repeating itself.” I said it like it was obvious. “Of caring too much. Of watching someone else die because of my choices.”
Understanding dawned in the Wolf Queen’s eyes. “Like Luna.”
Hearing her name sent a jolt through me. “Luna is a business arrangement. A means to an end.”
Agony dropped me fully to the ground as the magic punished the lie with savage intensity.
“This is wasting time we don’t have,” I croaked when I could speak again. “Marcel is coming. Luna needs—“
“Luna needs truth,” the Wolf Queen interrupted. “The Shadow Fang requires honesty between its wielders. You know this, yet you continue to hide behind half truths and blatant omissions.”
She knelt beside me, her form shifting between woman and wolf. “Why does her situation resonate with you so deeply, Prince of Summer? What do you see in her that calls to the heart you claim to have buried?”
The answer rose unbidden. “She was exiled for love. Cast out for following her heart instead of her duty. Like me.”
“And?” the Wolf Queen pressed.
“And she didn’t break,” I continued, the truth flowing easier now. “She built a new life. Stayed true to her choice. She’s pure light in my dark world. She’s everything I should have been and wasn’t.”
“You admire her.”
“Yes.”
“You desire her.”
“How could I not?”
“You fear for her.”
“She’s mortal. Human,” I said. “Or near enough. So yes, I fear for her.”
The Wolf Queen rose. “The Shadow Fang requires a price, Dahmien. All magic does, but especially magic that transforms essence. You seek this artifact for your maker, and for yourself, yet you joined blood with a shifter to access it. Do you understand what you’ve begun?”
“The blood connection,” I said. “I’ve experienced it before between vampires, but never with a shifter. It’s different.”
“It is ancient,” she corrected. “The space between vampire and werewolf holds power your kind has forgotten. The blood you shared has already begun changing you both in ways you cannot yet see.”
Alarm shot through me. “Changing us how? Is Luna in danger?”
The Wolf Queen’s expression softened. “There it is. That instinct to protect her. Is that your vampire nature or what remains of the fae prince?”
“Both,” I admitted. “But Luna doesn’t just need a protector. She needs an ally she can trust.”
“And are you that, Prince of Summer? Can she trust you with all that you hide from her?”
The question hung in the air between us. Around us, the illusions faded, leaving only a simple stone chamber with the Wolf Queen standing in judgment.
I opened my mouth but realized I didn’t have an answer for her.
“If you continue this quest,” she said, “the connection between you will deepen. Each piece of the Shadow Fang you recover together will strengthen the blood bond. In the end, there will be no secrets possible between you. Are you prepared for that level of vulnerability? To be truly known?”
The thought terrified me more than any physical threat. To be seen completely—my failures, my regrets, my weaknesses exposed to another’s judgment. Yet the alternative meant losing the Shadow Fang, failing Elliot, and abandoning Luna to her daughter’s and best friend’s fate.
And somewhere deeper, a truth I barely acknowledged: I was tired of being alone in the dark when Luna’s bright sun hung within reach.
I raised my head to meet the Wolf Queen’s gaze. “What do I do?”
“Accept who you truly are,” she said. “Not a night-son. Not fae. Not cold. Not Summer. Both and neither. The mask you wear for the world has become your prison. Remove it.”
I understood then that my trial wasn’t about physical endurance but identity. My choices. My mistakes. My regrets. I’d accumulated so many.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt raw, exposed.
The Wolf Queen nodded in approval.
“The first Shadow Fang piece is yours to claim,” she said. “But remember this, Prince of Summer. Night-sons are especially sensitive to its power. Whether it’s used as a tool to heal or a weapon to continue your vengeance war, the Shadow Fang can ruin you.”
The chamber began to fade around us.
Her voice echoed one last time, like a benediction and a warning. “Just like it ruined me.”