Chapter 7 #2
“I don’t need to.” Kareon’s stance shifted, no longer just a shield, but a warning. Instinct. Protectiveness. Something deeper.
Kaelioth’s smirk widened. “Relax, Alpha. I was merely suggesting she join the warriors for the Rite of Awakening. No point in standing around doing nothing, right?”
Kareon’s fingers curled into fists. “She’s not one of us. You don’t know what this will do to her.”
Kaelioth tilted his head, studying them like a puzzle that had just fallen into place. “And yet she is here. Of all nights.” His voice softened, contemplative. “Perhaps the spirits are shifting the pieces where they should go.”
Eris, silent until now, straightened.
“What is the Rite of Awakening?”
Kaelioth spread his hands. “A way for warriors to connect with the ancestors. To draw strength, wisdom, and guidance.” His gaze returned to Eris, more calculating. “If the spirits choose to speak, they will.”
Eris did not hesitate. “Then I will do it.”
Kareon exhaled sharply and dragged a hand through his hair. “Of course you will.” It was not a question. It was not even frustration anymore. Just resignation.
Eris met his gaze, unshaken. “I want to hear them.”
Kaelioth let out a satisfied sigh. “Then the path is set.”
Behind them, the first drums began to beat.
The campfire blazed higher, casting shifting light across the warriors preparing for the ritual.
Eris stepped forward. She wore Lycan garb—leather straps clinging to her form, a fur-lined cloak draped across her shoulders, her skin marked with curling, intricate symbols.
In the polished metal of a nearby blade, she caught her reflection.
A stranger stared back. Yet something about that face felt true.
Behind her, the warriors gathered, their murmurs low beneath the crackling flame. The air thickened with the scent of burning herbs. At the fire’s edge, Taric and Varis exchanged glances.
Taric grinned. “Damn. If I’d known you’d look this good in Lycan gear, I would’ve recruited you myself.”
Varis, mock-serious, added, “She looks like she’s been one of us all along.”
Eris smiled faintly, but her gaze searched for one person.
Kareon stood apart, arms crossed, watching her. His face was unreadable, but in his eyes, something burned hotter than the fire.
Kaelioth stepped into the glow. The flames rose with a low sigh, as if listening. He lifted his arms and spoke in a voice that fell into something older than language, something shaped by the bones of the world.
“Karef kalturium, akh'tavaron. Ruhten kel’tan. Vorr kosh’ta.”
Eris did not understand the words, but she felt them, heavy and alive, as though a door were unlocking deep within her. They carried both a summons and a warning.
A bowl carved of black stone passed through the circle. One by one, the warriors drank. When it reached Eris, she paused. Across the fire, Kareon’s jaw was rigid. He said nothing, but she felt the weight of his stare as though it were a hand pressed to her back. She held his gaze. Then drank.
For a single moment, the world held its breath.
Then came the pain.
It carved through her veins like molten stone. The fire danced, shifting with her pulse. The ground trembled beneath her, as if the earth had awakened. She gasped. Heat and cold surged together beneath her skin. Firelight broke apart in jagged shards.
Kareon’s hands gripped her shoulders. “Eris, breathe. Look at me!”
Her lungs fought to pull air. She clawed at his arm. “What…have you done to me?” Her voice fractured.
Her knees gave way. Kareon caught her before she could fall.
“Kaelioth!” Kareon shouted through the smoke. “Help her!”
But Kaelioth remained still. His voice was calm and cold. “There is nothing I can do now.”
Kareon carried her through the camp, heart pounding. Warriors stepped aside, faces taut with shock, eyes wide with fear.
Inside his tent, he laid her gently on the bed and brushed damp strands of hair from her face.
Her breath was shallow, uneven. She burned. Kaelioth entered, arms folded.
Kareon turned, tension bristling through every muscle. “Why is this happening? What have you done to her?” His voice shook with barely restrained fury.
Kaelioth met his gaze, unshaken. His reply was weighty. “It is not what I have done, nor the potion. The potion is only a bridge. What happens now is because of what waited on the other side.”
Kareon’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to Eris’s pale, motionless form.
Kaelioth continued, voice darkening. “The shadows in her blood have risen to challenge her. She faces more than spirits. She faces herself—her fears, her fate. If she overcomes them, she will return stronger. If she fails…she will be lost.”
Kareon’s fists curled. His breath caught. “You knew this would happen.” His voice cracked, thick with something deeper than rage. “And you let her do it?”
Kaelioth’s expression did not waver. “The spirits claimed her long before tonight. You could not have stopped this. You should have known.” He paused. “All you can do now is have faith.”
Kareon exhaled hard, jaw locked. The thought of losing her clawed at him.
He sank into the chair beside the bed. One hand gripped the edge to anchor himself. The other hovered above hers, trembling. “Fight, Eris. Come back to me.”
She twisted on the bed, drenched in sweat. Her breath came ragged, hunted by something she could not wake from.
Kareon pressed a cool cloth to her skin. He swallowed helplessly. “Eris.”
His thumb brushed her temple. Somewhere in the haze, she felt it: a whisper of coolness on her skin. Her breath wavered. She exhaled, and the fevered world unraveled.
Mist curled around her in endless silver. A ripple spread. At the river’s edge, a small Lycan child stumbled.
Eris inhaled sharply. Before she could move, a young vampire girl rushed past, black curls flying, and dove into the water without hesitation.
She saved him.
The vision shifted, flowing like the river itself.
Eris turned as the mist parted. The girl and boy were together, laughing, climbing trees, chasing fireflies. Their joy shimmered, unbound, untouched by fate.
Eris followed, her steps quick and uncertain.
The girl spoke as she gestured, teaching the boy about spirits. Her smile glowed with warmth. In the boy’s wide eyes, there was only devotion.
Figures emerged in the mist. Lycans stepped forward and welcomed the girl with open arms, embracing her as one of their own. The bond was unbreakable. Eris moved to keep pace.
The girl slipped through the world with joy that never wavered. Then the moments quickened. Scenes blurred until the girl appeared again, older now. She was not alone. A tall, gentle vampire stood beside her. His presence radiated warmth. His smile disarmed.
Eris stiffened.
The girl's eyes glowed as she introduced him to her Lycan friend. Then the name passed her lips. “Kriponius.”
A breath snagged in Eris’s throat.
Kriponius?
She searched his face—the warmth in his eyes, the ease in his voice. It was so far from the monster she had known. How could this kind man become the tyrant who tore their world apart? Had he truly been this once? Or had it always been a mask?
Her gaze shifted back to the girl, the one who ran with Lycans, who laughed without fear.
The pieces slid into place. Seraphina.
Eris watched them together, their bond forming without hesitation.
The girl moved between worlds with effortless joy.
Her presence glowed with promise. But in Eris, only hollow weight remained.
This warmth, this fragile joy, would not last, for Kriponius would be the one to shatter it.
Time lurched forward. Shadows crept inward.
Seraphina stood before the Lycan boy. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I cannot see you anymore," she said. Her voice broke as the words left her.
The boy froze. Grief carved deep into his face.
Seraphina turned and walked away, leaving him behind. Darkness fell. From it, a mirror rose.
Eris hesitated. Dread coiled in her chest. She stepped forward, and the reflection shifted. It was not her. It was Seraphina, radiant and distant. Sorrow clouded her gaze, and her shoulders bent beneath a burden too old to name.
A figure stepped into view behind her. He was tall, his expression glacial. A necklace glinted in his hands. He fastened it around her throat. Seraphina did not smile. Her sorrow deepened.
Then came the scream. A woman’s voice, broken and raw.
"How can you do this to me?"
Eris turned as steel tore through flesh. A man’s voice followed, hollow and shaking.
"Forgive me."
Eris gasped. She looked down. Blood bloomed across her skin as pain roared through her.
A scream rose from her throat, tearing through the vision and into the waking world.
Kareon sprang from his chair, heart pounding. "Eris!" He lunged to her side, cradling her as her body convulsed.
The ground beneath her vanished. A violent force dragged her down, and she plunged into blood. She thrashed, pulse hammering. Corpses floated past, twisted, hollow-eyed, mouths frozen in silent screams. She fought to stay afloat, but the blood pressed in, suffocating.
From below, shadows surged. Spirits writhed upward, their cries filled with rage and grief. Eris felt everything: the weight of their pain, the lives Kriponius had stolen.
They pulled her deeper, down into silence. With one final effort, she reached upward. In the waking world, her trembling hand rose from the bed. Kareon caught it and held tight, grounding her.
"Eris, I’m here." His voice broke with desperation.
In the vision, he pulled her upward. The spirits' claws slipped away. Their wails faded. Eris broke the surface and gasped. Solid ground caught her knees and her chest heaved. From beyond, a voice rose.
Kaelioth.
His chant wrapped around her like a shield, making the spirits recoil.