Ruvan’s essence. It’s drawn from me with the blood. His magic, his power. Invisible hands, the same size and shape as his, run over my body. Across my shoulders, down my arms. Up from my ankles to my thighs. I shudder.
After that initial sensation passes, the air feels colder. I exhale and my breath clouds, as if the temperature of the room—or my body—has actually dropped. My breaths collect into the hazy figure of a woman. She stares at the forge. But I blink and she’s gone, replaced by red.
Blood coats the weapon’s edge, collecting on the rusty lines I hammered into place. It’s as if the dagger is made of soapstone rather than metal, eagerly drinking up the liquid I’ve provided it. The dull color of the dagger turns ruddy. I slowly slash it through the air, making sure what I’m seeing isn’t just a trick of the light.
It’s not.
The dagger is actually glowing faintly.
A squeal escapes me and I give a small hop, letting loose my delight. Mother and Drew will have to forgive me now. Just wait until I tell them what I’ve done. Which… I’m not entirely sure what that is. I’ve no idea what this faint glowmeans, of course. For all I know, this is an obvious phenomenon to a vampir. But for me…
I forged magic.
Power is coursing through the weapon. I can see it lingering in the air with every twist of the blade. Restless. As if begging for release. But I’ve no idea how to release the magic I’ve stored within it. So I’m left doing nothing as it slowly fades and the blade dulls back to how it was fresh off the anvil.
I want to slice my arm again and see it glow. But I refrain. Those strange sensations hold me back. I don’t know what to do with this weapon, yet. But I will figure it out. Perhaps it is in the notes—or in the journal I’ve uncovered in the office.
Later. Figuring out the implications will have to wait. The rest of them will be waking soon. I tidy the smithy of all the evidence of my experimentation, returning the remaining ingots to the office and shutting it tightly. I keep the forge hot, however, and set about to sharpening the covenant’s blades as I told them I would when we first returned.
It’ll be suspicious if I’m seen having worked all night with nothing to show for it. Luckily for me, sharpening the weapons takes a negligible amount of time since they were so recently honed. I have them laid out on the table and my dagger hidden when I hear footsteps approaching.
I’ll tell them of the dagger, of course…but I want to tell Ruvan first. It will be like a peace offering given how we last parted. I shiver, recalling the feeling of his presence in and around me. I can’t wait to see his reaction. He’ll be proud. He’ll be—
I’m disappointed the moment I can tell the footsteps don’t belong to him. I know that he has yet to wake—I can sense him still asleep from how calm I am. There’s not the restless energy permeating my world that feels like it’s wound up like unleashed lightning whenever he’s around.
The footsteps are too light for Ventos but too heavy for Winny. Too noisy for Lavenzia. I make a game of trying to guess who it is and settle on Callos. I’m wrong.
“You’re up early,” Quinn says.
“I never slept.” I ease away from the table of tools. It’s not my finest work, but anything done in haste will be lacking. And they won’t be able to tell the difference. I hope. “I got a bit sidetracked.”
“I see.” Quinn inspects the weapons. Boldly, he runs his thumb parallel to one of the blades.
“Careful, they’re freshly sharpened. I would hate to have to explain to Ruvan what happened to his faithful attendant.”
“If I wanted to kill myself on a silver blade, I would’ve done it long ago.” Quinn eases his hand away.
“Quinn, may I ask you something?”
“Only if I may ask you something in return. One for one.” He brings those haunted eyes to me.
“Deal. What exactly is the ‘long night?’” The way they speak of it makes me think it’s more than the curse.
“The long night began after the curse was laid.” He crosses over to the window and looks out over the setting sun. I can see him wince slightly, but he stands in the sunlight anyway. As if in defiance. “The curse took hold quickly in our blood. Vampir abandoned the other townships and cities across the mountains for Tempost. They came looking for a cure, but only found more death in our main stronghold.”
I cross to the window as well, standing next to him. But he continues to look past his reflection and into the city beyond. He seems to be staring at a specific point in the distance—a large building with an arched roof and four bell towers on every corner.
“So many lives were lost during the proverbial sunset on our people. The lykin to the north, northwest of us, hunted our kind mercilessly when they became the Succumbed. As the curse worsened, the lykin became more…proactive in their culling of our people, claiming it in the defense of all of Midscape.
“It all happened so quickly that there wasn’t even time to send out request for aid…even if we had, I doubt the packs of wolf-beasts would have allowed any goodwill and supplies to pass. They had seen what we had become and were determined not to allow any of us to escape.”
“So the long night is a metaphor for this dark time the vampir face?”
“I believe that’s two questions.”
I side-eye him. “It’s still just one. It doesn’t count as additional questions if you’re being cryptic and I’m seeking clarity. They’re follow-ups.”
He chuckles softly, but the levity doesn’t reach his eyes. “The long night earned its name from how we postponed the curse.” He has my undivided attention now. “The vampir conducted a blood ritual unlike any the world had seen. The high lords and ladies, advisers, right and left hands of the last of the king’s bloodline, entered into a final pact. They gave their lives to create the long night, the great slumber, a chrysalis that the remaining vampir could hide within.”
