Chapter 38
DARIAN
“I’ll only ask this once,” I say, my voice low and edged with the kind of promise that leaves no room for misunderstanding. “Fail me, and you won’t like what comes next.”
The vampire is chained to the stone wall, the metal biting into its flesh. Behind me, the dungeon floor is slick with blood, bodies stacked in a messy heap—every one of them a failed answer to my question. My gloves are soaked through, warm with gore, the air thick with copper and rot.
“What does King Draeven want from the witch?”
It just stares at me, those cursed red eyes locked onto mine, the veins in its face bulging, lips peeling back to bare teeth.
Fucking defiant.
A slow, inhuman chuckle slips from my chest—low, dark, and not entirely my own. The shadows answer the sound, curling out from me like living smoke, thick and oppressive, the darkness inside me stretching eagerly toward its prey.
I close the distance in a breath, my gloved hand clamping around its throat, squeezing until the chains rattle. “I am not in the mood to be patient. So, speak, or I’ll make what’s left of you wish it had rotted in the sun.”
Kill. Kill. Kill.
It still refused. And I’d had enough.
Enough of the same question. Enough of the same silence. Enough of dancing to Vesperas' tune like some obedient hound on a leash.
But I asked anyway—because I had to. Because her orders lived in my bones now, crawling under my skin, whispering until I obeyed. No matter how much I wanted to stop, I couldn’t. Control was slipping. Piece by piece, ever since the day I gave up my family. The day I gave up on her.
A low growl tore from my throat, the sound raw and feral. My shadows slithered down my arm, wrapping tight around his neck, merging with the grip of my hand until they sank deep into flesh. The resistance was brief—then the tearing began.
His eyes bulged, blood welling and spilling as the shadows twisted, severing muscle, tendon, bone. I felt the final give, the last snap, and his head came free in my grasp.
It hit the ground with a wet thud, arterial spray painting my face in hot crimson.
For a moment, I wanted to rip my skin off—scrub until there was nothing left but raw flesh. But the other part of me—the part that had been growing ever since I lost her—didn’t want to clean it off at all.
I loved it. Hungered for more.
I straighten, eyes sweeping over the carnage around me, and there’s… nothing.
No guilt. No remorse. Not even a faint echo of a conscience. Every life I’ve taken in the past few days is just another faceless ghost, fading into the dark.
The only thing that still cuts through the emptiness is the thread tethering me to her—and if I could tear it from my chest, crush it in my hands until it bled out, I would. But that tie isn’t something I can break. No one can.
Kieran better have listened and gotten them the hell out of Velmore.
Because once Vespera finds them, there’s no outrunning what’s coming.
Circe’s already been forced to gather every last Emberthorn warrior, the Veilguard, and Vesperas' personal guards to kill them all. It’s not a fight, but a slaughter.
I roll my shoulders, skin pulling and burning where she’s carved into me—punishment for protecting my family. She won’t kill me, though.
All this time, she’s been poisoning me—dripping that inhuman darkness into my veins until it’s become a part of me. I don’t even know when it started, only that somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling foreign.
It's inside me now, in every breath, every thought, coiling tighter with each heartbeat.
And Freckles… she’s always felt it. Always seen through me.
Kill the witch. Rip her apart before she becomes the monster.
The words slither through my head, the same venomous command, over and over, until it’s stitched into my skin.
I press my palms to my head, teeth clenched hard enough to crack. Trying to grind the voice into silence.
You need to kill her.
Kill them all.
Not Freckles.
“Here’s the next one, Wolfe.” The voice grates through the haze, dragging me back from the edge of my thoughts.
The door groans open, and Dean shoves another vampire into the room.
Only… this thing isn’t a vampire anymore.
Its eyes were wrong. The red is still there, burning bright, but where the whites should be, there's only void—an endless black that swallows every flicker of light. Thick, rotting veins crawl outward from its sockets, pulsing under skin stretched too tight over sharp, unnatural bone. Parts of its flesh look warped, half melted, as though it’s been burned and stitched back together by something that didn’t understand or care how humans—or monsters—are supposed to look.
The fangs are just longer than they should be, uneven, made for ripping, not feeding.
And then the stench hit me. It wasn’t the sharp copper of fresh blood, but the rancid smell of a corpse that had been left too long. Except this one was standing in front of me. Breathing.
It didn’t move, didn’t twitch—just stared at me. The skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and there was no hair. The head was a roadmap of pain—burns, cuts, and tattoos.
Even Dean, who’s seen just about every nightmare Velmore has to offer, kept his distance. His fingers flexed like he was ready to slam the door if this thing lunged.
My shadows slithered across the stone floor, wrapping around its limbs before it could even think about moving. It bared its teeth at me—not a hiss, not fear, but a low, throaty snarl that said it enjoyed the game.
“You’re different,” I said, almost bored, though my grip on the shadows tightened until they hummed with strain.
It smiled—or what passed for a smile. Lips cracked, eyes glinting with something worse than hunger. “Thanks to the King, we’re not like the rest,” it rasped. “We can walk in the sun.”
I already know that.
I stepped forward, shadows licking at my heels like they were impatient for more blood.
“How is it you can do that?”
Not the question I should be asking, but I was done wasting time chasing answers that led nowhere.
Dean caught my glance and—braver than I gave him credit for—slammed the dungeon door shut from the inside. Trapping himself in here with us. Brave… or stupid. Time would tell.
The thing cocked its head. “Is that really what you want to know?”
“One of many,” I said flatly. “Yes.”
It laughed, and the noise slithered under my skin, ringing around the room.
I didn’t move, didn’t blink. Instead, a tendril slid up his leg, stretching over to his hand, curling around one finger.
And I pulled hard, until the bone snapped and the finger tore free.
Blood welled dark and sluggish, and it grit its teeth, a flicker of strain cutting through the smirk.
Interesting. High pain tolerance. Good.
“I’ve got plenty of parts to work through before we get to your heart,” I murmured, crushing his finger under my boot. “Now, start talking.”
“And what makes you think I’ll tell you anything else, dark one?”
I didn’t bother answering. Another finger tore free—slower this time, the shadows pulling until sinew snapped and it gave away with a wet crack.
A cruel smile tugged at my mouth. “Good. That’s the reaction I like. Pain makes you honest—or at least more useful.”
Its eyes flickered, that spark of defiance still there—but fading. The kind I enjoy extinguishing.
“Now, how do you walk in the sun?”
It twisted, tried to struggle, and within seconds, another finger tore away. No scream. Stubborn. Foolish.
Admirable in a pathetic way.
I leaned closer, darkness curling like smoke around us, tasting the fear it didn’t yet understand.
“Think of it this way—you’re not leaving this room alive.
And we’re nowhere near the part where I finish the job.
” Another finger cracked free. “So… unless you want the rest of your body to follow, you’d do well to answer me. Now.”
“I hope she kills you,” it hissed, venom dripping from every word.
“Not the answer to my question,” A shadow coils tighter around his finger, constricting with an almost sentient hunger. “The next one I rip off… you’ll eat.”
Dean watched in silence, but I didn’t spare him a glance. My focus was entirely on the thing in front of me. Its black veins writhed beneath its pale skin.
“I can’t tell you specifically how we can walk in the sun. Just… the king performed a lot of experiments.”
I hummed softly. “Interesting. But not the answer I wanted.” My gaze narrowed. “What did you mean when you said she will kill me?”
Now, that earned a flicker of interest in its unnatural eyes.
“That is a question worth asking. Seems like you aren’t just Vespera's little pet.”
I studied it, letting the shadows wrap around its neck, tightening like a vice. Then I drew the dagger from my side and drove it straight into its left eye. The howl it let out wasn’t just pain—it was pure terror—and I let myself smile, dark and triumphant.
I twisted the blade, his body locked in place, savouring the way his body jerked helplessly. Blood ran cold down my arm, and the eyeball stuck to the blade as I pulled it out.
“Now that,” I let my grin linger. “Is a sound worth remembering. Wonder what I can do next?”
I could feel it trembling now—more with rage than fear—and I let myself savour it. The pulsing helplessness of a vampire screaming under my control never grew old.
“Who will kill me?” I demanded.
“You…can’t…stop her. There will be no stopping the King’s creation.” Its veins blackened even more; fangs bared.
I was sick of riddles and cryptic warnings.
“What did the King create?”
It licked its bloodied lips, amusement flickering in one eye. “Did you ever hear the story… of what the King tried to make before the Ashen war?”
I dropped the dagger, the eye still clinging to the blade, and crossed my arms. “I did. He failed. What’s your point?”
It laughed again, delighting in my impatience. “He didn’t fail.”
No. That couldn’t be. If the King had succeeded in creating something inhuman, the realms would already be in ruin. My gut tightened.
“I can hear the clock ticking in your mind, Dark one,” it whispered, voice slick like oil.
“The weapon… has been in your life for a long time. You never saw it, never knew it… and the King will take it. He will take it and consume all the realms, as he was meant to. Everyone dies, and you had no idea that you were in love with the very thing he created.”
Something inside me snapped. Shadows erupted from my skin like living black fire, tendrils writhing with teeth and claws of their own. The vampire's heart tore free in my hand with a wet pop, and I shoved it down its throat, making him choke, gag, writhe.
But the shadows didn’t stop. They surged up my arms, across the walls, over the floor, devouring the light. The dungeon screamed with the sound of cracking stone and metal bending, as if reality itself was trying to escape my fury. My chest heaved uncontrollably, heart hammering.
I could feel the darkness within me stretching, hungry, unbound, whispering that I was no longer me. I saw the vampire squirm, every limb twisting like a puppet on fire. The tendrils shredded everything in reach, including him.
Tunnel vision consumed my sight. Faces, walls, even Dean's presence vanished beneath the black tide. All that existed was the fire of my rage, the cold clarity of antihalation, and the shocking, unbearable truth.
A truth I didn’t want to believe.