Chapter Sixteen
IVAN
The past. The aftermath.
The world ended when she died in my arms, when I heard my love take her last breath.
I remembered nothing aside from roaring out so loud, so painfully, that my voice split the rafters and extinguished the candles, their smoke choking the air. All I knew for certain was the weight of her body in my arms and the silence that followed.
All my men were dead, their bloody bodies strewn on the stone floor, the castle staff’s screams nothing more than a whisper in my ears.
I carried my wife to our chamber, though my arms no longer felt like my own. The bed took her weight as gently as I did. My mind fractured. I was both within my body and watching from beyond it—some helpless man witnessing the ruin of his own soul.
I traced her lips with my thumb, willing warmth back into them, smearing her blood across her skin.
“My beautiful girl,” I rasped. “Open your eyes, Draga mea… my beloved.” I pressed my lips to her brow, whispering every promise I’d ever made to her.
That I’d find her again. That I’d tear down heaven and hell to do it.
The silence that followed was not silence at all. It screamed through me, splintering every piece of what I had been.
I lay beside her until dawn, my face buried against the hollow of her throat, clinging to her cooling body as the first light touched the windows. The world moved on, indifferent. But I did not.
I buried her myself. No priest. No rites. No witnesses. She was mine, and I wouldn’t let another soul share in the intimate horror of losing her.
Something inside me split wide open.
I stayed by her grave for days, sleeping on the frozen earth, numb to hunger and thirst. I couldn’t leave her out in the cold. I couldn’t let her be alone.
Time after her death didn’t pass. It bled. Slowly and endlessly, like eternity itself had stopped to watch me break.
When I rose from the grave, I was no longer a man but a hollow thing carved from loss and fury.
Night hung heavy, a storm pressing at the horizon.
Every breath burned, and every heartbeat reminded me of what had been stolen.
Her scent still clung to my skin, and the realization that it would eventually fade split me in two.
One thought drove me: Find the traitor who stole my heart in his hand and crushed it.
Raducel hadn’t run far. Cowards never did. He cowered in the castle sewers, a rat among shit and rot. I remember nothing of the hunt except the violence taking me over, a hot, blinding thing that answered only to grief.
He fought with the skill of a seasoned warrior, but skill could not stand against what I’d become.
His sword nicked my side, but the cut meant nothing.
I closed my hand around his throat, hauled him upright, and smashed him against damp stone until the world narrowed to his gasps and the drip of water.
“Pray,” I breathed, the words cold as the crypt. “If your god still listens, he’ll help you. He’ll save you.”
He tried, but the sound was half-formed. I shoved his own sword into his chest. His scream died on the stone.
I leaned in close, breathing him in. His heartbeat stuttered beneath my fingers, and in that moment, I made my choice. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and whispered to the dark.
“Take me. Give me the sin that grants power enough to undo death. Take my soul and make me what the world fears. I’ll give you everything, so long as I can destroy my enemies and be reunited with my love.”
Raducel gurgled, his blood spilling hot over my wrist. I let him fall, then bent and pressed my mouth to the wound. His life flooded my throat, hot and metallic.
And then something answered.
The air thickened as the shadows came alive, curling icy fingers around me, and sinking into my flesh. The darkness took root, endless and merciless, until pain became all I knew. My body seized, heart stuttering, lungs locking in place.
Then—rebirth. A frantic rhythm where silence had been. The first beat of a damned heart.
I lay on the cold stone, trembling as it consumed me. And for the first time in my life, I surrendered.
When I opened my eyes, the world sharpened into cruel clarity. I could see each bead of blood on Raducel’s chest, hear his heart clawing for life. My teeth ached and lengthened, and a hunger tore through me like a living creature.
I ripped out his throat and drank until there was nothing left. The transformation burned through me. It hollowed me and remade my soul. When it passed, I was whole again but not the man I had been. My veins thrummed with a new, terrible life.
I stepped out of the sewer and into the storm. Lightning threw the ruins into maniacal light. Thunder answered like a war drum. That night I became a villain.
I killed every man who had conspired to steal her from me. I drained every ounce of their blood until the snow took on the color of rust.
Centuries followed in the same bloody rhythm.
Hunt and feed. And through it all, I searched for her, let the years pass and blur, hoping this new lifetime would bring her back to me.
But nations rose and fell, and I remained this creature, bound to the darkness I had begged for. I understood the bargain I had made, and the darkness heard me.
I would be its servant for as long as it pleased.