Chapter 73 Jules
Jules
I lose track of time.
The stairs stretch on and on, curling upward like some cruel joke, but I don’t stop. I don’t let myself think about how my legs shake or how my lungs burn. I climb and climb and climb, driven by one terrible certainty—
If I stop, Lucian will die.
I don’t know how I know that—I just do. And so I don’t stop.
The stairwell smells of dust and cold stone. My palms scrape the railing, gritty with neglect. Sweat dampens my skin beneath my clothes and my muscles burn, but I welcome the pain—it reminds me I’m alive. That I’m still moving. That I haven’t failed him yet.
And then at last—at last—the stairs end.
I stagger onto the top landing, my vision swimming, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free of my ribs. Before me stands the entrance to the penthouse suite.
Lucian’s domain.
I push my way inside and find the same dusty neglect I’ve found everywhere else in the Spires.
The hallway beyond is long and silent—its once-luxurious carpets dulled with age and dust. The walls, once glowing faintly with torch-light and magic, are dark now. Empty…hollow. Like the rest of the Spires.
“Lucian?” I call, my voice breaking as it echoes down the corridor.
But I get no answer.
I move faster, peering into rooms as I pass.
I see an abandoned sitting room, the chairs overturned and the fireplace cold…
an office with papers scattered like dead leaves across the floor.
Everywhere I look, I see signs of desertion and neglect.
Everything looks left behind, as if the world inside the Crimson Spires simply… stopped.
My chest tightens with fear—where is he?
“Lucian!” I call again, louder this time, fear clawing up my throat.
Still nothing.
But then, at the very end of the hall, I finally see it—his bedroom.
The door stands slightly ajar but no light comes from within—it’s dark in there. My heart stutters in my chest as I hurry to push it open.
Inside I see the familiar gothic architecture—the high ceiling and plush carpets now coated in dust. The room is dim, the crimson floor-to-ceiling curtains drawn tight.
The air smells faintly metallic, like old blood and dying magic.
The massive bed dominates the space—and there, upon it, lies Lucian.
He looks pale…too pale.
His skin has lost its warmth, its color, and his dark hair spills across the pillow like ink against white linen. His chest rises and falls so slowly I almost miss it.
“Oh God,” I whisper, my legs nearly giving out beneath me.
I rush to his side and sink onto the bed, my hands trembling as I stroke his hair back from his face.
“Lucian,” I sob softly. “Lucian, please—”
His lashes flutter and his eyes open just a fraction.
“You…found me.”
His deep voice is so hoarse I can barely hear him.
“I’m here for you! I love you!” I whisper, tears pouring down my cheeks.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I press my wrist to his lips.
“Bite me! You need blood.”
His mouth parts weakly. He tries—but he’s too far gone, too drained. His fangs barely graze my skin.
“No—no, don’t you dare give up now,” I say fiercely.
I guide his mouth back to my wrist, angling it just right, and then I press down—hard—using his own fangs to cut myself.
A sharp pain flares and I gasp as blood wells instantly, hot and bright. The scent fills the air—coppery and rich—and Lucian reacts immediately.
His eyes focus and his mouth seals over my wound.
He sucks hard, drawing the blood down his throat, and I feel it—feel him—responding. Color blooms back into his cheeks. Warmth returns to his skin beneath my hands. His grip tightens, suddenly strong, suddenly real.
Hope surges through me, fierce and overwhelming. I climb on top of him, pressing my body against his as if I can give him strength just by being close.
“You’re going to be all right—keep drinking!” I urge him, my voice shaking with relief.
He does. He takes long, deep pulls at my wrist and each one seems to bring him closer to his old self.
At last, he licks the wound closed.
His arms come around me, strong now—solid, holding me as if he’ll never let go.
“You came back to me,” he murmurs.
I half laugh, half cry, burying my face against his shoulder.
“I couldn’t stay away. I love you!”
“Oh sweetheart, I love you too. It nearly killed me to send you away,” he tells me.
I look up at him uncertainly.
“Then why did you do it?”
He shrugs, looking weary.
“It was the only way to gather enough power to open a portal for Hanna. I had to give you up—only a sacrifice of the heart would do it.”
My chest aches at the thought.
“Well, you’re never sending me away again,” I murmur, nuzzling against him.
“No, never.” He holds me close. “I love you so much, my darling. I’ll never let you go again.”