“Ereshkygall?” I ask, barely surfacing from my heartbroken haze, already knowing the answer.
She told us what was coming.
“Dead,” Sariah answers somberly.
Blaise lifts Killian with a steady hand. “Let’s go.”
“No,” we answer both in unison. “This ends tonight.”
“You’re in no state to continue the fight, Killian,” he says, shaking his head vehemently. “We regroup. Count our losses. Find a better strategy for tomorrow.”
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Morweena screeches in the distance. “You can’t escape me, Akaori. I can sense you now.”
Killian shakes his head with a wince, trying to dispel an invisible thread gnawing at him. His bloodshot eyes bore into mine, and I acknowledge the silent regret with a teary smile.
We both wish there were more time, but Fate never cares about the whimsies of the creatures it weaves for.
“She’s trying to get into my head. We have to do it now, little umbra.”
“Do what?” Blaise asks in an alarmed tone. “Don’t be stubborn fools. We run.”
“There is no tomorrow for us, Blaise.” Killian delivers the last blow with a steady, sorrowful voice.
“We were never meant tosurvive this. You are.”
Killian
“You’re joking. You’ve hit your head and your sense of humor is utter shit,” Blaise laughs incredulously, turning his gaze to Aimee. “Tell me he’s joking.”
Her subtle head shake is weary but determined.
“There’s a hidden part of the prophecy, Blaise,” she enunciates each word slowly. “We are the saviors of Imiryion, but not its intended rulers.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Blaise’s rage is a living thing as he whirls on Sariah, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
“Did you know about this?” His eyes blaze with cold fury, his sea-colored pupils darkening like the ocean mid-storm, despair painting them almost black.
“Not… exactly,” Sariah stutters, rearing back from his harsh tone as if she’s been slapped.
“Not exactly?” he repeats agitatedly, his pitch growing in volume. “Not exactly!” he shouts, gripping his braids in frustration and pulling at the roots. “I’m not done with you or this conversation!”
“Brother,” I say, a knot forming in my chest. “It doesn’t matter. What Fate destined for us millennia ago, we can’t undo.”
“No, no, no. You are not fucking dying. Not on my watch.”
Red-stained tears leave trails on his angular cheeks, and it’s probably the first time in his six hundred years I’ve seen the boisterous persona completely shatter, leaving only the vulnerable boy behind. The one I saved from death. The one that became more than my second-in-command. More than any family I can recall, even though we share not one drop of blood.
“I am not losing my familyagain. Once is enough for all lifetimes.Not again.”
His words rush past his lips like frantic pleas, the supplications of a male no stranger to grief. To loss.
I grip his neck and rest my forehead against his own, trying to convey all the love I carry for him in my soul, all the hard-earned respect.
He is more than worthy of his new title.
The next Vampire King.
