Chapter 6
Bonded in Blood
HARLOT
I take a step into the forest, and its mossy ground softly groans under the soles of my leather boots. Tall trees loom over me. The trees here are much bigger than I’ve ever seen, wide with large branches. Wooden giants.
The moment Mother awoke, I was awake as well.
When I saw her stowing the books in her bag, I had already decided last night that today would be perfect for venturing into this fortress with Mother gone and Fynn hopefully sound asleep.
He barely even stirred as I clothed myself as still as a mouse and exited the room shortly after Mother.
When she was out of sight, and I was certain the coast was clear, I checked the bar at the Inn.
The female witch behind the bar gave me a curt, cold smile, and I sensed she would not tell me anything.
That’s when I spotted him. The male vampire I spoke to this morning was amused when I asked about The Silent Fortress.
He sat there by himself in solemnity, and I knew he would be able to tell me how to get there as if unseen forces guided me.
He mocked me instantly and said only fools with a death wish would seek out the castle, and even the abomination of magic that clings to me could not keep a petty human like me safe.
I cocked an eyebrow at his wording and demanded instructions on how to get there.
He had shrugged, not daring to taunt me further, and told me how to find it.
A human, more or less, was not of his concern.
Despite the warning, I set foot on the path that should lead me to the fortress. It’s still early morning, and the sky is a light tint of pink with hints of orange. Drops of dew are present on the leaves of trees and the grass.
As I walk, a path forms in front of me, as large oak and birch trees seem to bend out of my way, their branches moving along.
As I look in amazement at the forest coming to life, paving my way, not long after, I see gigantic arched towers painting the line of greenery.
A flying gargoyle lands on top of one of the pillars while more are already seated on the eaves, its clawed feet planted firmly.
I stare at it for a short while, but it turns into a dark stone, its grotesque features frozen.
It no longer moves as small rays of watery light filter through the thick clouds, coloring the sky.
Determined, I stride toward the looming building.
The architecture is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, its features full of intricate detail.
Tower after tower appears in front of me, surrounded by pillars and columns.
As I near it, a large drawbridge comes into view.
Seeing the entire castle is breathtaking; the water in the moats surrounding it is clear turquoise, just like the lake in Sadelaer, and I wonder if all of this is a veil of allure, too.
Large, colorful Koi fish swim in the clear water, minding their own business, with pink and white water lilies covering some of the surface.
Dark red roses with thick, sharp thorns cover the stone walls, as if they protect the building.
The doors leading into the castle are surrounded by blooming wisteria, a poisonous threat in itself.
Remnants of fog cover the lower half of the building, directing the way to the large wooden doors across the bridge, which open, their hinges squeaking in protest. I take the invitation and go inside, the wisteria slowly crawling away from me, almost as if it’s afraid to hurt me accidentally.
Even the thorned roses stay clear of the door.
The fortress's interior holds an even more intricate design than its exterior, and I don’t know where to look.
I venture further inside the building and hear the doors close silently behind me.
The thick carpet on the stone floors muffles my steps.
I see art, antique furniture, tapestries, and marble statues everywhere my eyes travel.
After inspecting the ground floor, I slowly ascend a swirling staircase that leads to the second floor.
Antique paintings, covered in layers of dust and framed in ornate frames, most of which depict the ever-ongoing struggle between the Light and Dark realms, adorn the staircase walls.
I stare at them in awe, as I presume they are depictions of how life once was before the Witch Wars that ended it all, forever changing the world we live in.
I hum to myself as I enter the second-floor hallway; more paintings cover the walls here.
I admire the beauty of each before I continue my trek, passing closed doors.
I dare not open any of them, afraid of what might be lurking behind them.
As I drive myself deeper into the still castle, I notice the door to a bedroom is ajar, and I can’t help myself, my curious nature taking over.
I cautiously crane my neck around the corner, but no one is there.
Once the relief wears off, a slight frustration creeps into me.
Why did that stranger call out to me and want me here when he had no intention of showing himself?
It’s not like he can access me, touch me.
With newfound confidence, I push open the door and step inside the dimly lit bedroom.
Rows of burning white candles on a shelf lighten it, and candlewax drips on the floor.
Besides the furniture you would expect in a bedroom, the large canopy bed that is positioned in the middle of the room catches my immediate attention.
Like all the other furniture, this one is also made of dark mahogany wood, the pillars carved with baroque ornaments.
The drapery is made of thin black lace; the imagery features a pattern of thorned roses, similar to the ones on the walls outside.
I walk around it, touching the black silk fabric of the sheets.
It is enormous, and it could easily fit five or six people. Or vampires.
“Do you like how that feels… human?”
A dark, gravelly voice startles me. I turn around toward the sound, but I don’t see anyone; just looming shadows. The candles lit throughout the room do not provide sufficient clarity, as their flames flicker.
“Are you that scared of me that you reside in the shadows?” I mock instead of answering him.
He tsk-tsks in response. “Don’t be a rude little human. It might get you into more trouble than you can save yourself from. I could tear you apart in a matter of seconds if I wanted to.”
My jaw ticks as I hear his words.
Then, he casually steps from the shadows.
I catch my breath as I take in his beauty.
I’ve never seen a man, no, a vampire, like him before; he’s almost ethereal.
His dark, raven-black, mid-length wavy hair combined with a sharp jawline and long black eyelashes.
His lips are full, and his sharp white teeth are displayed as he flashes me a savage grin.
My heart flutters at the mere sight of him.
He’s tall, 1.95m easily. His skin is so pale, almost translucent, and marked with intricate patterns.
He wears a loose black blouse that clings to his body, revealing his muscles.
I swallow, the sound loud in the sudden, deafening silence.
His peculiar eyes lock onto mine. They are dark, almost black, as if his irises swallowed his pupils.
His eyes are unlike the usual dark red eyes I’m accustomed to. He’s unlike any vampire I’ve ever seen.
“Why are your eyes not red?” I blurt out.
He looks at me in delighted surprise.
“Why are you not scared of me… human?” he counters as he cocks his head.
Shadows emerge from his markings and coil around him to prove a point: I should be terrified of him. I don’t care about the shadows; if anything, they explain how he can step into and out of them. That’s one question he’s answered unintentionally. I’ve never seen a vampire with such powers, though.
“You first,” I say.
He looks amused, liking my boldness. “Very well... because I am an Umbraedon, not a vampire. I feel slightly insulted that you thought of me as a mere vampire. My kind is also known as an Umbra. Your turn.”
I huff and cross my arms in front of me. I hold his stare, unrelenting. “That doesn’t explain anything to me. What’s the difference?”
He lifts a dark, well-groomed eyebrow at my forwardness, and I wonder if I am the first… being to talk to him as I do.
“You truly are an entertaining little human. One of the biggest differences is that an Umbra feeds on all beings, including vampires and witches of any kind, were-beings, and shifters; we are not picky. As we eat the cursed, our eyes are a hue of black. Satisfied?” He smiles with a toothy grin at me.
“I’m not scared of you because my magic protects me from the supernatural, including you. Satisfied?” I parrot mockingly. “Why have I never heard of Umbra’s before? Or seen one?”
He takes a step closer to me. I squint my eyes at him, unsure what he’s trying to prove. Fynn’s story vividly replays in my mind how he eliminated that vampire and weakened her. My touch will scorch his skin if he tries anything funny.
“Interesting. The magic that exudes from you is indeed old, like me. I knew it. How old are you, human? And what’s your name?”
“I turned 18 a week ago,” I hesitate, but something about this, vampire, no, Umbra, compels me to answer him, “My name is Harlot… What’s yours?”
“Harlot,” he muses, “What an odd name, but so fitting for your bloodline.” Before I can respond, he continues to speak.
“My name is Emrys. I came into existence after the Witch Wars. My kind is a cruel twist of fate to maintain some of the balance that the dark creatures have destroyed by murdering all the White Witches and their magic. We are not cursed like the other dark creatures by the old Gods, but made by them if you will.”