Azael sighed where he lay halfway in his bed, leaning back against the headboard with his eyes shut.
His black robe slipped further, down his arms, leaving the sculpted planes of his abdomen bare, while crimson silk sheets draped the rest of his lower body.
One knee was raised, his elbow resting upon it with practiced ease.
His pale skin seemed almost luminous beneath the canopy of the bed within his chambers, a striking contrast to the grey that corrupted the sky above his territory.
His throat bobbed with a slow swallow.
Everything felt normal, peaceful…
"Zel,"
The familiar voice of Trisha drew a slow smirk to one corner of his lips, though he made no move to open his eyes.
"I am your master," Azael said. "Yet you still seek me like a child whenever you need my presence."
"Your attitude indulges me," Trisha replied. "The heart that refuses to thaw…even for its owner."
"It's been a while since I last saw you," he murmured, still listening with his eyes closed as the scent of dandelions drifted through the air.
"And I've missed you too."
Her voice sounded closer this time.
Then came the soft patter of rain striking the grounds beyond his chambers.
Azael's eyes snapped open.
He turned sharply.
Was the cast breached?
"Yes, it is, Zel," Trisha replied.
Before he could snap his head toward where her voice had come from.
His gaze found someone else.
Ginger hair, grey eyes, familiar red lips…
But from where?
"Trisha?" he called, only to be certain.
Silence answered him, broken only by the rain, now falling harder than before.
He needed to find what had breached his castle.
Yet, for reasons beyond his understanding, he couldn't tear his eyes from the woman standing before him.
She took a cautious step backward, fear flickering across her face.
Almost instinctively Azael leaned forward onto all fours the moment she retreated.
"Lost in what you see before you," Trisha's voice echoed again, though she remained unseen.
"As the chaos grows louder."
The ground beneath him trembled.
Azael immediately attempted to teleport—
—but his hands and legs began sinking rapidly into the mattress as though the silk sheets had become liquid stone.
His gaze dropped to the crimson fabric tightening around him.
He pulled, struggling to wrench himself free before lifting his head toward the woman before him again.
Was she a trap?
Yet the terror filling her eyes made him unsure.
The castle continued to shake violently.
And somehow…
He found himself worrying more for her than himself.
"Trisha!" he called, straining harder against the sinking sheets, desperate to reach the girl instead.
He immediately froze at the sound of a sharp echo beneath his bed.
Another cracking sound came directly from the floor of his room.
Whoever had trespassed possessed enough power to fracture the castle from within as well.
It couldn't possibly be the frightened woman standing before him.
"You still can't tell, Zel?" Trisha asked.
Azael lowered his head.
Why wasn't he getting out of this?
Why wasn't he calculating his way free?
The groaning rupture grew louder, the sound battling that of the relentless rain outside.
"Master!"
The woman's scream snapped his head upward.
She stood trembling where she was, arms wrapped tightly around herself, the same teal dress she had worn on the first day she wandered into his territory fluttering around her.
She staggered backward, uncertainty and terror consuming her posture.
Her grey eyes searched helplessly.
He knew why.
She couldn't see.
The fiery glow rising from the widening cracks illuminated her darker skin.
He recognized her.
"Move, Elana," he shouted.
The ground split wider.
Startled, she instinctively threw her hands outward.
Was it him?
Had his demon escaped his control.
"Witness the doom of the path you chose," Trisha said, her voice unnervingly calm amid the thunder of collapsing stone and pounding rain.
Azael strained again, trying to wrench his arms free while keeping his eyes on Elana
The ruptures widened further and she backed helplessly against the wall.
"You cannot control what is coming," Trisha continued.
He struggled harder, but his arms had already sunk to his elbows.
Whatever held him refused to let go.
The crimson glow pouring from the ruptures grew brighter as heat rippled upward, lifting strands of Elana's ginger hair.
Outside, a wolf's howl split through the storm.
Azael's head snapped toward the window.
He gritted his teeth as anger swelled inside him.
This time… his struggles didn't even let him bulge from the spot that held him still.
"The consequences of your past are not yours to bear," Trisha said.
"…as long as she is alive."
"Master!"
Elana's trembling cry pulled his attention back to her.
His heart dropped as he spotted three thick green vines jutting from either side of the wall behind her.
Her tear-filled eyes remained fixed on him.
To him—almost accusing.
Azael tried to move again, only to realize his shoulders were already sinking beneath the tightening sheets swallowing him whole.
"Trisha!"
"This is her fate, Zel."
Their eyes met one final time.
Then Elana gasped.
His gaze fell instinctively to her torso, red soaking the punctures of her dress where all six vines had pierced through both sides of her body.
Azael gasped awake.
The lid of his casket flew open as he shoved it aside.
Lately, his dreams had begun following him…even into the confines of his casket, and sometimes they became worse.
But never—
Never had he seen vines.
He rose in one fluid motion, his silken black hair cascading past his shoulders.
Aside from the sheen of wisteria oil glistening across his skin, he remained completely naked as he left the incense room and entered his chambers, where the eternal grey over his castle was slowly surrendering to the approaching evening moon.
One of his minions already waiting outside the entrance.
"The soldiers are still searching, Master," the minion reported. "So far, there is no sign of the mage."
"All of you incompetent runts," Azael growled, turning toward it. "What is one man that none of you can find?"
The sharp scent of the minion's fear filled the air.
It only worsened Azael's irritation.
He turned fully toward the creature, making no effort whatsoever to cover his nakedness.
"Why are you here without my request?" he asked.
The minion trembled, its head lowering even further.
"The kings…" it managed. "They ask for your presence…urgently."
Azael scoffed.
"And were you going to dare awaken me?"
"N-Never Master."
Turning away, Azael walked toward the bathing chamber.
"Prepare my clothes," he ordered. "Then leave. I acknowledge their request."
"Yes, my lord."
The minion bowed immediately as Azael disappeared beyond the bathroom doorway.
**
"It's important that you have someone accompany you on your stroll, sir," Leah said, clearing her throat as she watched, with quiet concern, while Zane slipped his second arm into the remaining sleeve of a crisp, slightly rumpled white shirt over his bare chest.
"I keep telling you," Zane replied, lowering his gaze as he fastened the buttons one by one from the bottom,
"I'll only get worse if everyone keeps treating me like I'm made of glass."
"But your…" Leah began softly, stepping closer.
Zane's eyes fell first to the white flats upon her feet, the neat white socks tights disappearing beneath the hem of her nurse's uniform before his gaze gradually lifted to meet hers.
Only a few inches separated them now.
"I am a soldier," he said evenly. "I've survived wounds far worse than these."
Her full lips, glossed in red, parted beneath the warm evening light spilling through the hospital window.
"I don't mind the scars of your past," she whispered. "As long as we can build a future beyond them."
Zane fell silent.
For a brief moment, he simply looked at her.
A chance at a much simpler life any sane man would reach for without hesitation.
But he was a man who had witnessed vampires and stood before wolves larger than men.
He was a man who had escaped death…twice.
Worst of all, both his conscience—and perhaps his heart—refused to abandon the blind girl who had become trapped in the middle of it all.
He drew a slow breath before fastening another button across his chest.
"I'm not the one who can fill that place in your life," he said. "Leah."
The hurt that surfaced in her expression tugged at his heart.
She quietly stepped back, folding her hands together before her.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, lowering her gaze.
"You don't have to be," he replied.
A faint smile touched his lips, one he hoped might soften the rejection, but Leah never looked back up.
In truth, he was eager to leave the room.
He needed to seek directions to the bar Eira had spoken about.
He knew he could no longer expect her to return.
And Cara…
Cara had already chosen Azael's side.
"It's important your stroll doesn't last for too long," Leah said, still avoiding his eyes. "Thirty minutes at most. The medication is still taking effect."
"Thank you, Leah."
She nodded before quietly approaching the door, her footsteps the only sound in the quiet room until the door clicked shut behind her.
The silence returned.
Zane sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots.
He was beginning to understand what Eira had meant.
This world no longer allowed him the luxury of remaining simply a man.
But neither would he become a coward.
**
"Calm yourself Evren," Thorne said, watching his brother pace relentlessly across the throne room as they awaited Azael's presence.
Evren stopped abruptly.
A scoff escaped him before he strode across the throne room until he stood directly before Thorne.
"You expect me to be calm?" he asked, anger roughening every word. "Our kingdom has been attacked because of one girl. One slave who is probably orchestrating all of this."
Thorne could see the fury written plainly across Evren's face.
He understood it.
He carried the same anger himself.
But Azael was not a man who tolerated emotions spoken before reason.
"Diana is still alive," Thorne said with a measured sigh. "Let's not turn this into something far worse."
"Then help me make him understand." Evren's voice sharpened. "She should be questioned properly—not hidden away and pampered in a castle where she doesn't even belong."
Thorne's gaze drifted toward Azael's throne.
Still empty but he would be here anytime soon or already.
His jaw tightened.
"She's blind," he said at last, looking back at Evren.
"And that's exactly what she's using to deceive everyone," Evren hissed, leaning in until his cold breath brushed Thorne's cheek.
"I'm more concerned about Diana."
Evren stepped back, turning his gaze away, fists still tightly clenched at his sides.
"I'm not dismissing what you're feeling," Thorne continued."But the last thing we need right now is an argument that would only create more problems."
Evren swallowed hard.
When he finally looked back, some of the rage had settled beneath strained restraint.
"What if this had ended differently?" he asked quietly. "What if she'd been bitten…or killed trying to escape those vermin?"
Thorne's jaw locked once more.
All he wanted was Azael's permission to return to Sirence and properly examine Diana's condition.
Men amongst the five hundred soldiers Azael had requested had brought news of the palace infiltration and Diana's injuries.
They had managed to tame the intruder and imprison him but lives had already been lost and Diana, herself had narrowly survived.
The worst part was the revelation that she had been the true target all along.
That alone made returning home all the more urgent.
Thorne stepped forward and rested a hand firmly on Evren's shoulder.
"Whatever you're feeling…" he said quietly, "…I'm feeling too but the damage is already done."
Evren looked away again, saying nothing.
"Save your anger for the wolves bold enough to invade our home," Thorne added.
Slowly, Evren looked back at Thorne. "And let the lowlife responsible for all of this stay unpunished?"
"What lowlife deserves punishment?"
The voice cut through the room like a blade.
Both brothers turned instantly.
Azael sat upon his throne.
Crimson eyes glowed from the darkness surrounding him, fixed upon them long before either realized he was there.