“Whatdoyoumean,not quite? All the signs point toward that. I must be Akaori’s descendant. I’ve had an inkling of suspicion throughout the centuries, crimson shadows and all. My mother used to tell me bedtime stories of their love story. She used to say my daggers were theirs, passed down from one generation to the next like a vestige of times forgotten. Why would my family safeguard such a treasure if not for that reason?”
Ereshkygall tilts her head, like a mighty predator surveilling its prey before it pounces. Her words come out slow and precise, with the finality of a history keeper.
“It’s more complicated than that, Vampire King. I retrieved the daggers from the battlefield and crossed the barren lands, scorched by the war, to track Adhala, Akaori’s little sister. The last time I had seen her, she was just a little girl in pigtails, but when I delivered Kadirah and Alnashar to her, she was a woman past her prime, with a family of her own. I made her promise that she would guard the blades; I avowed in blood a Fae couple who were believers in our cause to protect her lineage, to keep vigil of oursecrets, of the prophecy, on the outside world. So, you see, in a way you are her scion,” she says, releasing a harsh breath that cuts the air with a hissing sound.
The sconces flicker, casting an eerie glow on her sharp features, hardened by the burden of her secrets. My faithful shadows tighten around my limbs, with a pressure not meant to constrict, but to offer support. I scoff internally and shake them off like specks of dust. Since when do I need coddling?
“But you are so much more, Vampire King. You areher. Just as the Foretold One is her beloved Aeon. A reincarnation of their aethereal souls, brought back by the very fabric of this realm to finish what was started. To restore the Manichean balance.”
The shock of her reveal leaves me reeling, ice sludge coursing through my immortal veins. Next to me, Aimee goes utterly still, holding her breath, spine rigid, eyes glassy. Our shadows wrap around each other at our feet, black and crimson meshing together in a perpetual dance of love and longing.
“The shadows knew all along,” I realize with a start, a part of my mind already embracing the truth, as another part rebels against the absurdity.
“I am absolutelyNOTAkaori! How could I be her? How could I be the primordial female vampire?” I splutter with fake indignation, my voice booming in the ensuing silence of the marbled sanctuary.
The implications are monumental.
We’re not only the prophesied saviors of a decaying realm; we are the spark that ignited the flame of its ruin.
Ereshkygall bares her elongated, argent canines in a show of predatory splendor.
“Not even the fiercest, strongest female to ever walk these lands? The first of your kind?”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” I say with a deep groan, dragging a palm over my face. “But we are talking about a legend, Eresh, a luminary of her time, a figure of raw magic, a tragic destiny. How canIbe her?”
“Aren’t you also a legend of your own Vampire King? Crowned because of your mastery of her exact same powers? Aren’t those her and Aeon’s daggers glinting at your waist?’
“It’s unbelievable,” I say, as the weight of her words settles in my bones, my soul blooming instead of crushing under the revelation.
“You know, she used to call me like you just did…Eresh, it was her endearment for me. We were Eresh and Ri against the world.” Ereshkygall exhales a breath laden with ancient sorrow and memories.
I palm my daggers, unsheathing them slowly. Alnashar hums with power and belonging, a feeling I always assumed was tied to its magic, but now recognize as ownership. The dagger always recognized me as its true wielder. Kadirah, however, has always been slightly off; its power muted, as if it was not meant for my hands. I grip the curved blade between my fingers, turning toward Aimee and offering her the bone hilt.
“I guess it has always been yours, little umbra. Will you accept it this time?”
She grasps it with a mechanical, absent movement; her face a mask of quiet disbelief. Her eyes have a faraway sheen, staring through us rather than looking at us.
“I felt its calling the last time I touched it. But I didn’t understand it,” she says in a small voice, before a shade of dark insight washes over her features. “If we are Aeon and Akaori, that means Arwan…” she chokes on the name, a sob escaping her trembling lips.
I know what she’s about to say, coming to the same disconcerting conclusion myself.
“Someone close to you,” Ereshkygall answers her thought somberly. “A family member, perhaps. With the dark blood magic weaving with theparentage, I can only assume you were reborn tied to each other in this lifetime as well.”
“Morweena,” I growl just as she whispers, “My twin sister, Aurora.”
The vampiress nods, granting us a moment of silence to process the raw reality.
“But she remembers,” Aimee says frantically, her head snapping toward me. “The things she said during the attack, they weren’t nonsense.She knew. She always knew. How could she remember if we don’t?”
“Arwan’s malevolent curse destroyed him when he killed you both. Akaori stepped into the fray, taking the brunt of the curse just as much as Aeon. They—you died in each other’s arms. As its creator, he must have retained his memories.”
That motherfucker. That vile bitch. When I get my hands on her, or him, or whoever resides in that horrendous body, I will peel that ashy skin layer by bloody layer until I reach her putrefied bones and crush them into soot. She will pay for every single torment she has caused us, in this life and the previous one.
Aimee sways on her feet, her body betraying her, and I catch her before her knees hit the ground. Her skin feels icy and sweaty at the same time, and her breaths come out in pained heaves.
“All that torture, all her abuse,” she says, weeping, “Since I could form a conscious thought, I always wondered what I had ever done to her to deserve her hatred. She reduced me to nothing; she snuffed out my light, my voice, my worth. But it was never about me. It was about you, Killian. About Akaori.”
Her body’s shaking in my arms, each tremor feeling like a slight earthquake that fissures my soul. I hate seeing her so small, so defeated. She is worth a million suns and moons and every last drop of cursed blood running through my eternal veins. I will annihilate her fucking sister into oblivion and spend all my remaining days worshiping her, proving to her she is worth more than Imiryion itself.
