Vlad shrugs his shoulders—unconcerned.
Phoenix presses her point, and I can see her mind working tactically. She knows her grandfather. Knows what arguments will land. “Think about how long you’ve been building this city—this country. Your wealth isn’t in gold bars anymore. It’s in Swiss banks. That’s all numbers and digitized currency that’s secure so long as the government is stable.”
She lets that sink in.
“You think it stays secure when an AI run by a rogue element has control of that government? Any force seeking power will go after the world’s banks right after it gets control of the most volatile governments’ militaries.”
Ah. Now we’re speaking his language. Wealth. Power. Survival.
Vlad finally shifts in his chair, visibly moved by this argument at last. His posture changes—less dismissive, more alert.
“Chase down this spirit with your computers, and then Phoenix and I will go to defeat it!” He stands, energized by the prospect of battle.
“My family and I will stand beside you,” Abaddon says confidently, also rising.
But Phoenix only sighs as Layden jumps in. “It’s a different world than we’ve known in the past. We can’t fight whatever this is with cannons or muskets. It’s about server farms and AI.”
“What is this AI?” Abaddon barks, obviously frustrated by his lack of understanding.
Phoenix answers when Layden looks exasperated. “Artificial intelligence. Computer programs the humans build to do tasks—programs that can think for themselves.”
“But the runework I’ve seen overlaying the human programming is allowing the AI to advance far beyond what the humans ever dreamed,” Layden adds. “It’s speeding up what the AI is capable of by centuries. And from what Phoenix and I were looking at last night—” interesting, that admission, “—it’s only days away from completely wresting control away from the humans.”
“Even if we could track it down—which we can’t because the AI or the entity programming the runes is smart enough to bounce the source code off server farms all over the world—” Phoenix’s voice carries frustration, “—we still don’t know what we’re dealing with or how to fight it.”
“So what are we to do?” Vlad asks, rising fully from his throne and throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Did you bring us all here to warn us of a coming apocalypse we can do nothing to stave off?”
He begins pacing—theatrical.
“I tell you, Granddaughter, that I have seen kingdoms rise and fall, and I fear nothing! I have always risen to greatness, and this shall be no different. Let these human armies come for me.I shall decimate them and put their heads on pikes as far as the eye can see, like my honored great-grandfather Vlad Dracul the First before me! Blood will rain down on the fields near and far!”
“Dad would have loved this guy,” I mutter under my breath.
Vlad’s face snaps toward me—sharp, predatory hearing.
But Phoenix obviously has many years of experience managing her grandfather’s tirades because she stands up quickly, hands in a defensive posture. “Layden and I are monitoring the situation. And now that Sabra’s here, we’ll cast a circle to see if we can learn more.”
“Bah! What has witchcraft ever done except make things worse?” Vlad says, throwing a hand dismissively toward Sabra.
But Phoenix’s eyes narrow—dangerous. “You know what gifts the witches have given us through contact with the spirits. Even if they came in unexpected ways.”
Vlad turns away from her. “You call betrayal a gift?” He snorts.
“You would not have me but for the witches,” Phoenix says, standing her ground. Voice steady despite the emotional weight.
“And what have you been but a thorn in my side?” her grandfather shoots back viciously. “And now a canary to warn of coming doom it sounds like you can do nothing to stop?”
Phoenix swallows hard, taking a step back. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that his words have wounded her deeply. Not that he seems to notice or care. Casual cruelty from someone who should protect her.
“And what can you do?” Vlad says, turning his venom toward Abaddon and me. “You come here for safety, but it sounds like you’ve only painted a target on our backs if this spirit finds we’ve given safe haven to whoever’s watching it.”
Abaddon looks like he wants to stand toe to toe with Vlad—his body coiling, ready for violence.
I put a warning hand on his knee. Steady. Not yet.
Huffing in annoyance, he stays seated. “My family has many gifts,” he says through gritted teeth, voice tight with controlled rage. “We can help in the coming storm.”
“How, exactly?” Vlad comes to stand over my brother—deliberately intimidating, invading space. “What do you bring to the table? Tell me or leave the sanctuary I have offered immediately!”
