Chapter Killian
Killian
Killian’s eyes peeled open, but the darkness persisted.
Before the pixels of his vision could form an image of his surroundings, he relied on his other senses to feed him information.
The taste of blood lingered on his tongue, but as he noted the metallic tang of it, he was certain that it was his own.
The smell of damp and decay that flooded his nostrils was familiar, but his thoughts were too scattered to identify it.
The only sounds to be heard were an intermittent dripping in the distance, and his ragged breathing.
Killian’s head throbbed, and it felt like he’d had one too many drinks, but he couldn’t remember if he’d been drinking or not.
He was laying on his back on a hard, flat surface.
His dagger was gone. Walls rose up around his head.
His pulse spiked when he was struck by the knowledge that he’d been in this situation before.
Killian sat up and a wave of nausea hit him, and the world spun violently.
Looking around, his suspicions were confirmed.
He was in Drachen’s basement, and he was lying in an open coffin, made of a familiar, dark-coloured wood.
His pulse surged as he tried to scramble out of the coffin, but his legs were leaden, and his body wouldn’t comply.
“I really thought that Eryn’s freedom would be enough motivation for you.” Drachen’s voice echoed off the basement walls, and it took Killian a moment to pinpoint his Sire’s location.
Killian tried to form a response, but his words were garbled as they spilled from his mouth. Drachen appeared from behind a column to his right, his red eyes aglow in the darkness. He slowly approached and stared at him with disgust.
“I warned you, Killian. Failure is not an option. But Ivy Idthraki is now an Ascendant Vampire. If that’s not failure, I don’t know what is.”
Killian struggled to gain control of his tongue. He needed information and he needed answers. But most importantly, he needed to escape.
“Where… is… she?” Killian’s head throbbed with every word uttered.
“Eryn? Forget your sister. You’re going to spend so long in this coffin that you’ll forget she ever existed.”
Killian’s eyes swept around the basement, but the rapid motion sent another wave of nausea rocketing through him.
Bile rose in his throat, and he leaned over the edge of the coffin to vomit.
While he hung over the edge, he realised that the coffin was sitting atop the stone bier, in the exact spot where Eryn’s coffin used to be.
Drachen placed a hand on his chest and forced him back into the coffin. The rapid movement made Killian’s head spin and throb in pain. Drachen leaned in so close to Killian that he could feel the hot rush of his breath as he sneered his next words.
“Apparently ten years in this thing wasn’t enough. Let’s see if twenty knocks the fight out of you.”
Drachen stepped away, and before Killian could muster the strength to sit up once more, the coffin door slammed shut.
Killian heard the click of a lock snap into place, and dread surged up in his stomach to mingle with his nausea as he realised that he’d just entered the second Living Death of his lifetime.