"That's why I've gathered you all," I said. "We need to stand united. Any tribe that has suffered from this manipulation must join us."
The discussion continued late into the night, strategies formed and alliances secured. One by one, the representatives pledged their support. By dawn, we had a plan.
As the gathering dispersed, Elder Morokh lingered, his shadowy form hovering before me.
"You've chosen a difficult path, young one," he said quietly. "Your father would be proud."
I stiffened at the mention of my father.
"Your father feared what he didn't understand. You were always different, Varkolak—stronger in some ways, more human in others." Morokh's form rippled. "Perhaps that's exactly what our kind needs now."
He drifted away, leaving me with thoughts I'd buried for decades.
Aya's warm hand found mine in the emptying chamber. "Are you okay?"
I looked down at our intertwined fingers, light and shadow, human and monster.
"I will be," I answered truthfully.
The night before, the festival found me alone in the ancient meditation chamber deep within my fortress. Circles of black candles cast flickering light across stone walls etched with the history of my kind. I knelt in the center, stripped to the waist, trying to quiet my mind.
For centuries, shadow walkers had used this place to commune with the darkness within. To embrace our true nature. Yet I had avoided it since the day he'd told me I was too weak, too human in my emotions to be worthy of our bloodline.
The shadows responded to my turmoil, writhing around me, reaching toward the candles as if hungry for their light. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the darkness.
My father's voice echoed in memory:"Emotions are weakness. Love is a human frailty. Embrace the void within you, or you will never be worthy of your heritage."
I had believed him once. Had spent years suppressing every emotion, every connection, becoming the cold, feared creature others expected.
Until Aya.
The shadows twisted violently as her face appeared in my mind. I felt the pull of her even now, several floors above me, probably sleeping in her chambers. The urge to go to her, to wrap her in my protection, was nearly overwhelming.
"I thought I might find you here."
My eyes snapped open. Elder Morokh hovered at the chamber's entrance, his form more substantial in the darkness.
"I haven't used this place in years," I admitted.
"I know." He drifted closer. "Your father was wrong about many things, Varkolak."
I tensed. "You don't know what?—"
"I knew your father better than most," Morokh interrupted. "I watched him drive away your mother with his coldness. I watched him try to purge the humanity from you."
The surrounding shadows reacted to my spike of anger, lashing at the nearest candles. Several went out.
"He failed," I growled.
"No," Morokh said softly. "He succeeded for a time. You became what he wanted—isolated, feared, denying the part of yourself capable of connection."
His words cut deep because they were true.
"Our kind has always feared emotion because it makes us vulnerable," Morokh continued. "But it also makes us powerful in ways the void alone cannot. Your father never understood that."
The elder shadow moved to the wall, gesturing to ancient carvings I'd never paid attention to before. They showed shadow beings intertwined with creatures of light.
"The first of our kind were not solitary creatures," Morokh explained. "They formed bonds: deep, unbreakable connections that made their shadows stronger, not weaker."
