Chapter 12 #2
“My daughter thinks it is because you are a…” The presence within Mira spoke, nose wrinkling in visible distaste. “A disgusting shinobi, with a body long corrupted by the use of Mana—one that crumbles naturally when it hears my voice.”
“A possibility, I’m sure,” Kazuma said, his head remaining bowed to the floor. “Though we worship your voice in Hi Haven, Mistress.”
Worship? Aimee stared, mouth falling open as she realized just how much she didn’t know about the man she had come to…
“Worship?” A shadow passed Mira’s face. “Is that what you think you do?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Kazuma lifted his head just enough for a shallow dip, then lowered it again, the bow small but precise.
No words followed. Instead, a sound—muted humming—slipped from Mira, as if her throat carried a tune meant for herself alone. It lingered, feather-light, dancing through the silence until it seeped into the bones of the chamber.
“It doesn’t matter now.” Her sigh broke the hum as she rose to her feet. “The enemy returns.”
The villagers stirred as one. Their feet pressed against the smooth floor in a slow rhythm, rising and falling in unison.
Then the Mistress spoke again, though the voice no longer came from Mira, nor any single throat. It came from nowhere and everywhere at once, layered in echo upon echo. “I have judged the hearts of these outsiders.”
The circle’s humming deepened, the stomping swelled, and the pressure mounted until Aimee’s chest threatened to cave beneath it. Her fingers flexed into fists, nails biting into her palms as her body tensed and fear washed cold and jagged through her veins.
Oh shit. Her mind spat the words, bracing for the blow. Judgement had only ever meant one thing for her: pain and death.
Her eyes darted toward Kazuma. If it came to it, she’d have to grab him and run. Run where, she didn’t know. No door, no opening, no path beyond the circle. But she had to try.
“And in the face of our long enemy…” The Mistress continued as palms began hammering against chests, a thunderous percussion rising from the circle.
Aimee hauled Kazuma upright, heaving his body against her side. “We have to run!” she hissed into his ear, the roar of blood in her head blotting out the Mistress’s voice. “They’re going to kill us!”
“THEY WILL FIGHT WITH US,” the Mistress said.
The proclamation detonated across the chamber, sending her sprawling into Kazuma’s body in a tangled heap.
“AS OUR ALLIES. OUR FRIENDS. OUR FAMILY.”
But Aimee hadn’t heard, lost in the rising panic.
“Go!” Her eyes screwed shut as she clawed inward, reaching past the power buried beneath her soul. Past the vampire’s dark infection. Deeper, deeper—to the forbidden well she was never supposed to touch. But it fell through her grasp, slick and mocking, leaving only the ragged edge of panic.
“Fuck!” She tried again, scraping, reaching further than ever before. “I’ll try to open the door for you. Hold them back!”
And something thrummed in answer. The Pattern stirred, faint as the pluck of a string in the marrow of her bones. Once. Twice. A warning note, harsh enough to raise the hairs along her arms.
She knew what it meant—stop, turn back, leave that well untouched.
“No.” She shoved past the alarm. The Rules didn’t matter now. Not if they were going to kill him.
Her chest heaved, lungs straining against the Pattern’s thrum, blaring louder inside her, vibrating through bone and blood in command to stop.
She knew there would be consequences, but she reached harder, teeth bared, willing herself to seize it anyway. The Rules meant nothing. She’d burn herself ash if that’s what it took to keep him alive. Fear roared in her skull, grief already bracing for the loss she wasn’t sure she’d survive.
And then—silence.
Warmth pressed in on either side of her face, firm and unyielding. Kazuma’s palms held her still. His touch cut through the frenzy like a blade through tangled thread, breaking the spiral before it consumed her.
“Shhh. Shhhh.” His voice washed warm over her skin, soft where everything else had been jagged.
“Kazuma!” Her body shook, ready to tear the world apart if it meant she could hold him one second longer.
Then, his legs moved, bending around her waist, anchoring her as though he meant to bind her to the earth itself. “It’s okay, Aimee. It’s okay. They just want our help.”
“Our help?” Slowly, her pulse stumbled back from its frantic sprint.
The stomping of feet, the pounding of hands—all of it blurred into distant noise as her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. She clung to him, lifting her chin until his eyes caught hers, and the Mistress’s words finally seeped through the ringing in her ears.
“Friends?” The word broke small and high, almost too fragile to belong to her.
Emotion swelled again, but different this time.
A smile flickered across her lips, fell away, then returned in shaky bursts she couldn’t quite hold. “Family?”
Impossible.
“Apparently,” Kazuma whispered, wet laughter hitching in his throat, “the Mistress thinks we are worth keeping around.”
She threw her arms around him, clutching tight, his warmth too real to be a dream, and yet the knot in her stomach refused to ease. She had been ready—truly ready—to tear open the forbidden power, and though Kazuma had stopped her, she could feel the echo of that choice humming under her skin.
There would be consequences.