49. Clarissa #2
“The how is... complicated,” she begins.
“Suffice it to say that Luciana’s return to us is the result of forces beyond our full understanding.
As for the why ...” She pauses, her gaze softening as it lands on Gavriil and Luciana.
“Because we need hope. We need reminders of what we’re fighting for.
In the face of the darkness that’s coming, we need every bit of light we can find. ”
I shudder at her words, leaning closer to Kaisner, seeking his warmth and strength.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side.
Through our bond, I sense his own clash of emotions—wonder at the miracle we’ve witnessed, wariness at what it might mean for the future, and a fierce determination to protect what’s his.
“You speak in riddles, Cassandra,” Vladimir snaps, his voice sharp with suspicion. “We need facts, not vague warnings.”
Cassandra nods. “You’re right, of course. You all deserve to know what we’re facing.” She takes a deep breath, her eyes closing briefly as if steeling herself for what’s to come. When she opens them again, they’re filled with a gravity that sends chills down my spine.
“There is an ancient prophecy,” she begins. “One that speaks of a time when the veil between worlds will thin, when shadows will seek to devour the light. It speaks of a great battle, one that will determine the fate of not just our kind, but of all reality.”
The room falls silent, hanging on her every word.
“For centuries, this prophecy was thought to be nothing more than a myth, a cautionary tale told to frighten young witches and warlocks,” Juliette adds.
“But recent events have made it clear that the time spoken of in the prophecy is upon us. The signs are all around us, for those who know how to look.”
She pauses, her gaze sweeping across the room once more.
“The sudden resurgence of long-dormant powers. The blurring of lines between different supernatural races. The return of those thought lost to us.” Her eyes linger on Luciana for a moment before moving on.
“These are not isolated incidents. They are the first tremors of a coming earthquake that will shake the very foundations of our world.”
As Juliette speaks, a strange pressure coils at the base of my skull—faint initially, resembling the beginnings of a headache. Then it deepens. Sharpens. A buzzing energy pulses through me, syncing with every syllable she utters. My breath hitches.
The room tilts.
I sway on my feet, a hand reaching blindly for the edge of the table—but I miss. The chandeliers above blur, warping into threads of gold. Shadow and light streak across my vision like a shuttered film reel tearing loose.
Kaisner is there instantly.
“Clarissa—” His arms wrap around me with swift precision, his voice rough with panic. “ Liebes , what’s happening?”
“I… I don’t—” I gasp, blinking hard, but it’s no use. The visions surge like a tidal wave.
Shadows devour my surroundings. Not the kind born of night, but something older, hungry—coiling like haze around skeletal frames, fangs bared, wings unfurling.
“It begins with fire,” the words echo in my skull, slipping from my lips before I even realize I’ve spoken them.
The vision seizes me without warning—cities I recognize flashing before my eyes. Paris. Venice. London. Dreary columns of dark smoke rise toward indifferent skies, each plume a marker where something—someone—has been erased from existence.
Screams. Fire. A sky cracked open.
And then light. Brilliant. Blinding.
Swords of starlight clash against beasts carved from void. At the center of it all—Kaisner and me. Our forms tangled in radiant flame, standing back to back, holding the line as the world crumbles around us…
A strangled cry escapes me.
“Clarissa—sit,” Kaisner commands, already guiding me to the velvet couch near the window. I collapse into it, my body trembling, eyes wide but unfocused.
He kneels in front of me, both hands cupping my face now. Through our bond, I feel it—his terror, his rage at whatever is hurting me, his need to fix it.
“Tell me what you see,” he pleads.
I struggle to speak through the shuddering breath caught in my throat. “I... I see it all. The darkness. The flames. Us. Kaisner, we’re—” My voice breaks. “We’re at the heart of it.”
His eyes flash, but he says nothing. Only draws me closer, wrapping himself around me like a living shield.
“I don’t know how I’m seeing this,” I whisper, gripping the lapel of his coat. “But it’s real. It’s not a dream or a warning—it’s a truth waiting to happen.”
And in the deep well of his dark stare, I see it mirrored back.
He believes me
Juliette moves toward me, her eyes wide, concern etched in her brow even as excitement brightens her gaze. “Clarissa, breathe,” she says gently, kneeling beside my chair. “Let the visions pass through you. Do not fight them.”
“Juliette, what does this mean?” he demands, his voice tight with barely contained apprehension. “Is she in danger?”
She shakes her head, her expression thoughtful. “No. At least, not immediate danger. The prophecy is resonating with her gift, showing her glimpses of what’s to come.”
Her words send a ripple of murmurs through the room. I feel everyone’s gaze on me, their expressions oscillating between awe and wariness.
Nikolaas rushes to my side and leans closer, his brow furrowed with concern. “Rissy?” he speaks softly, as if otherwise I might break. “Rissy, are you all right? Do you need anything?”
His tenderness, so at odds with the tension that exists between us, brings a sudden sting to my eyes. I manage a small smile, shaking my head. “I’m okay,” I assure him, holding his hand. “I’m just... overwhelmed.”
As the visions begin to fade, leaving behind a dull ache in my temples, I become aware of a change in the room’s atmosphere.
The initial shock and skepticism that greeted Cassandra’s warnings have given way to a grim sort of acceptance.
The reality of the threat we face is sinking in, made all the more real by my unexpected vision.
Gavriil now stands by the room’s entrance, an arm wrapped around Luciana’s narrow frame.
When he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion, but there’s a steel in it that wasn’t there before.
“So what do we do?” he asks, his massive hand gliding down Luciana’s arm until their hands entwine. “How do we fight this darkness?”
Cassandra turns to face him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “We do what we should have done long ago,” she says. “We put aside our differences, our old grudges and power struggles. We stand united, as one force against the coming storm.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication.
I look around the parlor, taking in the faces of those gathered here.
Nikolaas, torn between worry for me and the burden of his rivalry with Kaisner.
Samara, her expression laden with concern and unwavering loyalty.
Vladimir and Gavriil, the Ursa brothers, their usual stoicism softened by the miracle of Luciana’s return.
And Kaisner. My mate, my partner, my anchor in the storm. His steady gaze meets mine, and in it, I find a reflection of my own emotions—fear, yes, but also hope. A fierce resolve to face any challenge.
“She’s right,” I say, stronger now as the last echoes of the vision fade away. “We can’t afford to be divided anymore. Not with what’s coming.”
Kaisner nods, his hand squeezing mine gently. “I agree,” he says, his voice carrying easily through the room. “Whatever differences we may have had in the past, they pale in comparison to the threat we now face.”
“Easier said than done.” Nikolaas stiffens at Kaisner’s words, a flicker of the old resentment passing across his face. But then he looks at me, really looks at me, and his expression shifts. He nods, almost imperceptibly, before turning to address the room.
“But… as much as it pains me to admit it,” he begins, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Kaisner is right. We’ve spent too long fighting amongst ourselves, jockeying for power and influence. If we’re going to survive what’s coming, we need to stand united.”
Relief washes over me at my brother’s words. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear him say that, to see him take this first step toward reconciliation.
A quiet resolve roots in my bones. The darkness may be rising, but so are we—and we won’t go quietly into the night, not while there’s light left to defend.