“You are unprecedented, Sloane,” he finishes. “And perhaps that’sexactlywhat this world needs. Someone who can wield godlike power while remaining human enough to care about who gets hurt. Someone who chooses control over chaos, not because they lack the strength to destroy, but because they possess the strength to save.”
Sloane doesn’t respond.
She can’t respond.
She’s trembling with exhaustion and shock, blood still dripping from everywhere, her entire body radiating the cost of what she’s endured. But she stands tall anyway, chin raised, eyes burning with defiance even in the face of entities that could unmake her with a thought.
My mate.
My partner.
My equal.
Nyx’s attention shifts to me, and I feel the full weight of her cosmic gaze. Not just my former sister looking at a wayward brother, but a judge assessing whether mercy or death is warranted. Whether the broken, bleeding, diminished Original standing before her deserves to continue existing or should join Thanatos in exile.
“Draven,” she says, and uses my true name instead of the moniker I’ve carried for centuries. The name I was given when they made me. The name I abandoned when I left them. “You are no longer our brother. You chose a different path. Built a different family. Became something we never intended when we dragged you screaming from mortality into darkness.” Each word lands heavy, final, carrying the weight of exile that cuts deeper than any blade.
“You walked away from the Coven,” she continues, shadows writhing around her in patterns that speak of endings and beginnings. “From the covenant that bound us. From thepurpose we shared for millennia. You chose mongrels and mortals over the eternal hunt. Vulnerability over invincibility. You choseher…” she gestures at Sloane, “… over everything we were.”
The silence stretches, heavy with implications I don’t want to consider.
“But…” Nyx says, and that single word shifts everything, changes the trajectory of this moment from ending to beginning, “… you are no longer our enemy either. You broke no laws. Viktor’s actions, Thanatos’ conspiracy, they forced your hand. You defended what was yours. Protected your territory. Saved your mate. You did what any Original would do when threatened.” Her purple eyes hold mine, and I see centuries reflected in them. Centuries of hunting together, of feeding together, of being monsters without conscience or constraint. And beneath it all, something that might be understanding.
“Walk your own path, Draven,” she says quietly. “Build your empire of mongrels and monsters. Love your Blood Witch and whatever impossible future you forge together. The Coven will not interfere. Will not judge. Will not hunt you or yours.”
She steps back, shadows receding, pulling away from us as though releasing a claim they’d held for millennia. “The trial is ended. The judgment is passed. You are free.”
Khaos nods, his eyes focusing on Sloane. He goes to turn, and Sloane steps forward, reaching out and grabbing his arm to stop him.
My eyes widen in shock, every inch of me tensing as the rest of the coven bare their fangs at her for the mark of disrespect she just showed.
“You dare—”
“Quiet, Nyx,” Khaos placates my sister while I grab Sloane and pull her back toward me. But she doesn’t back down, her eyes focused on Khaos, his tense on her.
“Speak, child,” he says in a kind voice that I haveneverheard from the First.
She inhales sharply, hesitates, and looks back at me, a hint of reservation in her courage. I don’t know what she is after, but I know her, and if she has something to say, it’s for a reason. So, I subtly nod, giving her the push she needs. She steadies her shoulders, turning back to Khaos, and puffs out her chest to make herself look strong. She doesn’t need to. She’s one of the strongest people I have ever met.
“Back then… when you used your powers, I felt something. I know Crave did too… whatwasthat?” She asks.
Raising my brow, I tilt my head, because I am actually curious about that too.
Khaos’ gaze slides past me and settles on Sloane. Just long enough to make my jaw tighten.
“As you know,” he says mildly, almost bored, “I am the First.”
I don’t react. I’ve heard this story more times than I care to remember. But Sloane stiffens beside me, and that’s what Khaos is watching for.
“The first vampire ever born into creation.” He begins to pace, slow and deliberate, boots echoing softly against the floor. “That doesn’t just happen,” he continues. “It requires magic. Blood Magic.”
I feel Sloane’s breath hitch. My hand tightens at her back, grounding her without a word.
“Centuries ago…” Khaos says, glancing over his shoulder, “… the love of my life was a Blood Witch.” His eyes flick back to Sloane. Not curious… assessing. “She was powerful enough to gift me witch-born abilities,” he goes on, his tone almost fond. “To help me survive the curse of immortality she already carried.”
I watch the realization dawn on Sloane’s face, piece by piece, and something dark coils in my chest.
“I was human then,” Khaos states. “Inexperienced and desperate.” A faint smile curves his mouth. “So, I cast my own spell. I asked for immortality so that I could stay in this life with my love forever.” He stops pacing. “To keep that immortality, though, it came at a cost,” he says calmly. “I had to sacrifice five humans.” Sloane goes very still. “Five lives…” Khaos continues, “To live for eternity.”
