King Victor swallowed, forcing bravery into his chest as the last legion of his army halted and raised their rifles toward the castle.
Syrus had already vanished just as he'd said—off to find a weak point in the fortress while they faced the Ancient outside.
Victor rode to the front to see the castle for himself.
The forest was cold despite the high sun, the smell of rich plants and herbs thick in the air. Indeed it was good land.
He'd brought ten legions for the fight. Hard to believe only one vampire could take on more than a thousand men alone.
But as he passed the second-to-last legion, goosebumps prickled up his arms.
The castle rose monstrous and ancient, its dark stone walls towering with arrogant pride—as though it could bully the sun out of the sky.
Victor's horse jerked back, front legs lifting as his gaze locked onto a pale figure standing in the shadow of the fortress—long dark hair, skin like moonlight, crimson eyes fixed on him.
The Ancient.
Victor steadied the reins of his horse, swallowing again.
His soldiers held position, and the goosebumps only worsened as he stared into that inhuman gaze.
The monster who held Cara captive.
If they breached the fortress, he would find her first.
"We're here," Victor said, voice loud and confident enough for the vampire to hear. "to claim the rest of the lands of Lumere.
I am King Victor, and this is your last chance to surrender peacefully or be conquered by my army."
Silence.
The Ancient didn't blink. Didn't breathe. Just watched him.
The fear within Victor slowly softened—until a slow smirk curved the vampire's flawless face—as if surrender had never existed as an option.
Victor opened his mouth to command the attack—
Heat slammed into his back first before sound reached his ears. Then screaming. The stench of burning flesh came next.
Victor froze, eyes snapping to the Ancient's crimson stare before turning to see half the first legion already ablaze—soldiers shooting their own to end their suffering.
His horse jerked harder as chaos broke and his soldiers opened fire at the Ancient.
Where had the flames come from?
Before he could regroup—before he could even speak—a man shouted, "Run for cover!"
Victor swung his horse around, moving to position himself behind the last legions—when an explosion ripped him off his saddle and hurled him against the cold wall of the castle.
Blood blurred his vision. Bodies and flames littered the field.
The side legions stopped shooting.
Then a commander's voice: "The king must not die!"
Victor's senses snapped back. He struggled to turn his head.
Fear returned—twice as sharp—when he caught the side profile of the vampire now only a few feet away.
The floor around glittered with scattered bullets, some still falling off the Ancient's skin.
Victor's breath stuttered, fighting for survival despite his doomed proximity to the enemy.
"I couldn't properly comprehend your purpose of trespassing," the vampire's voice came—terrifyingly calm—his eyes still fixed on the rest of Victor's army.
"Now you're closer," he continued. "I'll hear you better."
Victor's body shook, groaning as he tried to move.
Death was closer now than in any battlefield he'd survived.
Perhaps this was his punishment for sacrificing peace in his kingdom for selfish gain.
He had bitten more than he could chew—and would probably die before apologizing to the one person that mattered.
Cara.
**
Cara entered the living room to find Zelda cleaning with two other women who wore handscarves and aprons, oiling the furniture.
They seemed to have been at it for some time.
"Goodmorning, Cara." Zelda chirped, squeezing a rag over the bucket closest to her.
"Goodmorning, Zelda," Cara replied with a smile.
Birds chirped outside, a single line of sunlight slipped through the window, blending with the scent of home fragrance.
"I think it's ready!" Elana's excited voice called from the kitchen.
Cara turned. Elana stood in a flare green mid-length dress, looking lovely, as the sweet smell of baked bean cakes filled the space immediately.
"Okay sugar, I'll come have a look," Zelda said.
"It's fine," Cara offered. "I'll check it for you."
Zelda blew playful kisses. Cara caught them and stepped into the kitchen.
"Hello Cara," Elana greeted softly, stepping aside for Cara.
"You look beautiful, flower," Cara said, closing the door behind her.
Elana blushed, fiddling with her fingers as her sightless eyes softened.
If Azael weren't such a tyrant, she would have concluded he was perfect for her.
They looked good together.
"Oh my, these look delicious," Cara said, pulling the silver tray of bean cakes from the oven bare-handed with only the gloves for grip.
"I used to help the chef make them with my former…owners," Elana admitted, voice dipping at the last word.
Cara glanced at her—sadness lingering on her face.
Caesar's apology surfaced in her mind: how he'd drawn close to Eira for information on foreign cities because she was well-traveled, pleading that his reason was to ensure a blank start over for them but not in Sirence, in a different kingdom far from Lumere.
A place where they could escape the kingdom's claws—and he'd offered to help Elana escape too.
Cara took Elana's trembling hands gently.
"Every human being should be free, Elana."
Elana lifted her face, heartbreak tangled with hope.
"I want to leave," she whispered. "But it hurts, Cara. The thought of never seeing him again."
Victor's face flashed in Cara's mind. She would never see him again either.
The horror of the wolves she'd seen through the drive from Azael's castle, the danger—no place for a gentle soul like Elana.
"Sometimes, it's better to love a person from a distance," Cara said. "Especially if he doesn't see you the way you see him."
Elana squeezed her hands. "I made up my mind. I want to be free."
Cara smiled at her quiet strength, but fear tugged at her heart.
Azael had enemies—dangerous ones.
She hoped Elana would be spared from the possibility of being used as bait for his downfall.
"We should help Zelda prepare the table," Cara said, "We have to avoid suspicion."
Elana nodded, mood lighter on the surface.
But beneath it, Cara recognized the wound—because it was hers too.
**
Syrus gritted his teeth, trying his magic again—trying to sink into the castle wall from behind.
He'd been confident with the ambush team already stationed around the castle, trusting they covered him as he searched for an entrance.
But the explosion shattered that confidence, forcing him to rely on magic instead.
Even the spell felt like a wet matchstick refusing to ignite.
He hoped the army would distract the Ancient long enough.
If not, he would die with them.
He whispered the incantations of his phasewalk again, feeling his shoulder sink into the wall, but not the rest of him.
The castle's walls held subtle magic, not impenetrable, but stubborn.
Syrus opened his mouth to try again when screaming soldiers pulled his attention, toward the ambush group.
The sight and smell of smoke, burning flesh, and leaves made his heartbeat quicken. He had to hurry.
He pressed into the wall, whispering faster.
A soldier staggered out of hiding, flames consuming him, not even able to scream as his skin melted under the sun.
He collapsed to his knees, dissolving to bone, then dust.
Panic fueled Syrus's efforts as the chaos from the front grew louder—closer.
He pushed with everything he had. He would not die—not when destiny promised him immortality and dominion.
He shouted the spell, forcing his full body through.
He slid into the castle and landed hard.
Cloaking himself in invisibility at once.
The hallway stretched before him—vast and ancient. Now he just had to reach the chamber with those incantations and properly manipulate the Ancient's powers.
And this time, the monster would not resist his command.