I don’t look at him. I watch her. Understanding crossing her features as she glances at the rest of the Coven of Crows, and then to me.
We were the sacrifices.
“And that…” he says softly, “… is where everything went wrong.” He lets the silence stretch, savoring it. “The spell backfired. To survive it, I had to feed the magic. Blood… human blood… was the only thing that worked.” His gaze drifts, distant now, like he’s watching a memory rot. “At first, it was survival,” he says. “Necessity.” Then his eyes snap back to Sloane’s. “But then the bloodlust took hold.”
My grip tightens as I feel her recoil.
“I craved blood, I needed it, I worshiped it…” Khaos finishes, voice smooth and merciless, “… more than I ever craved her. Plus, I also had my five other scions now, who craved blood just as much as I did. There was no room in my life for a Blood Witch who looked at me like I was a monster instead of the man she loved.” He smiles.
And I realize, too late, that this was never about me hearing the story again.
It was about making sure Sloane did. She furrows her brows, staring at him. “So, you are both a witchandan Original vampire?”
Khaos tilts his head. “I am what is called an Apostate. Neither witch, nor vampire, yet somehow both. It is confusing, I understand.”
I step forward this time, clearing my throat. “So why did we both feel a pull toward you when you used your magic?”
Khaos exhales, his eyes meeting mine like a void of endless concern flowing through them aimed right at me. “Because Draven, my scion, you are now neither witch nor vampire, yet somehow both. You are an Apostate like me. You are bound to a Blood Witch that cannot be undone. You are an Original vampire. The two living together in one body willalwayscreate this entity. There isnoundoing it. There isnocoming back from it. There is only using your gifts wisely. The voices of my Blood Witch tried to overrule me. She tried to darken me. It is why I have been silent for five hundred years. Because letting her in… releases the khaos within me.”
Sloane lets out a shaky breath, and I know what she is going to ask before she asks it. “Was Lilith your Blood Witch?”
Khaos breaks into a hint of a smile. “No… quite the opposite. Her name was Eve. After she was banished from the garden, and thatabominationAdam treated her the way he did, Lilith took her under her wing and taught her Blood Magic. Made her into a Blood Witch, and that is when I met her…and Lilith.But it was Eve who stole my heart and is still coursing through my veins to this day.”
Sloane turns to me, trying to hide her smile. I grip her hand even tighter as I furrow my brows in confusion. “You say I am an Apostate, Khaos, but you stripped me of my Original powers.”
Nyx chuckles from behind Khaos, her shadows moving in their delight right along with her. “Do you not feel the difference already, brother? Is being a mere vampire that close to being an Original that you didn’t feel when I sent your powers back to you?”
I stand taller, realizing that I do feel stronger. My senses are more alert. My wounds, though still present, are very slowly healing from the Original blade, which they would never do ifI were an Original. But I am not an Original anymore. I am an Apostate. And the Original injuries don’t count, apparently.
I let out a small laugh as I pull Sloane to me, probably a little too tightly. She lets out an oomph at the strength with which I hold her.
‘Easy, tiger.’
I smirk down at her, then glance back up at the Coven of Crows.
At my family.
“Thank you,” I state.
Khaos nods just once, and the gesture carries more weight than any spoken word. It’s approval, dismissal, and acknowledgment all at once.
Then they turn. Not walking away, not fading into shadows or blurring with vampire speed, they simplystop existingin this space, their presence withdrawing from reality as though they were never here at all.
The sensation is immediate.
The pressure lifts.
The cold recedes.
The weight of their cosmic attention releases, and suddenly I can breathe again, think again, and do something other than stand here bleeding and terrified.
The warmth returns to the air.
The sun, which I hadn’t realized had paused in its approach, continues to rise over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold.
And silence, true silence, finally descends over the battlefield.
I turn to Sloane, and the moment our eyes meet, her knees buckle.
