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We arriveat the Broken Cathedral, the Otherworld sky darker than I have ever seen before, the storm clouds blocking out the Dragon’s Breath, and no lanterns to light our way. I nearly trip climbing off the carriage, and Liam raises his hand, his palm lighting with a soft flame, illuminating our near surroundings. “Thanks,” I say. “I’m surprised you didn’t do that earlier. How could you even see the roads?”

“I can see better in the dark than I once did,” he replies quickly. And I remember what Sebastian once told me, that vampires are creatures of shadow.

“What are we looking for?” asks Liam, holding his blazing hand up higher.

“A gargoyle. I’ll know it when I see it.”

He nods, and together we run into the cathedral ruins. In the main hall, half of the roof is gone, making way for snow and ice, and I walk carefully to avoid slipping. “Are the gargoyles here alive? Like in the mausoleum?” I ask, as we keep searching.

“They were once,” Liam says somberly. “But when the earthquake that brought this building to ruin came, the gargoyles gave their life so that some of the cathedral could remain standing. They are just stone now.”

I shake my head. “That’s terrible. Why die to protect a building?”

He sighs. “It is what gargoyles do. And they saved many lives that day. You see, the cathedral was still in use at the time.”

I pause, studying a gargoyle near a broken window. It’s not the one I seek, but I take a quick moment to thank it silently, before continuing on.

“It is said,” Liam continues, “that when the cathedral is restored, the gargoyles may return to life.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that possible?”

He shrugs. “Such things have happened before.”

We climb higher, searching for the ancient gargoyle in the memory. My heart nearly stops when I see it, perched at the edge of one of the great towers, looking out at the world below. We are near the top of the cathedral now, surrounded by the stone pillars that hold up a solid ceiling. They are spaced far apart, making the area open to the wind and sky, to the dark clouds swirling above. We are so high up, I feel I can almost touch them, these thick rolling masses of thunder and ice.

Here the wind comes swiftly and harshly and leaves just as quickly. Snow has piled on in tall mounds near the pillars. Thick ropes fall from pulley systems built into the ceiling, coiling at our feet, and a golden church bell hangs over our heads, engraved with runes, wider than three horses, so enormous not even the storm can sway it.

I run to the gargoyle, pulling myself up on its wings, much like the cat had done in its memory.

“This is madness,” says Liam. “You’ll fall.”

But I don’t. I stay steady as I climb up over the head of the ancient statue.

And there, at the top, I see it.

A coil of branches and twigs, nestled safely against the crook of a stone wing.

A nest.

Filled with speckled eggs.

Liam climbs up behind me, wrapping his arm protectively around my waist. His hand is no longer on fire, but it's easier to see this close to the Dragon’s Breath. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Have you gone—” He freezes, his eyes landing on the nest. “You don’t think—”

“There’s a bird nearby,” I say, my breath heaving, the cold in me burned away by adrenaline. “And maybe, just maybe, it saw what happened.” I look up, and there, amidst a swirl of dark cloud, I see a raven descending to protect its home. “Your babies are safe,” I say softly. “We mean no harm.” I turn to Liam. “Catch it. But be gentle.”

He nods, and in a flash, he runs up the stone pillar, three steps straight up a horizontal wall, and leaps into the air, catching the bird and holding it like a precious gem. He lands across from me, balanced on the gargoyle's wing, a space only three inches wide. He sits down on the heels of his feet, steady as a rock, and lowers his hands in front of me. The bird, held firmly between his palms, meets my eyes, curiosity in its gaze. It stays still, quietly content, and not thrashing about as I imagined. There is an ease between us I can’t quite understand.

I pull out the memory catcher Sebastian gave me and say the necessary words, praying to see something useful. There are many memories, of flying above Dracula’s manor, of hunting for worms in the dirt, but I feel something inside me, a flash, guiding me to what matters most. There. The memory.

It is dark. The Dragon’s Breath dim in the sky.

The bird sits perched on a tree near Dracula’s front entryway. The door opens, spilling golden light into the shadows, and the Count himself steps out, wrapped in black. But before leaving, he turns back, holding up a gentle hand, and putting it to a woman’s face. Mary. She stands in the doorway, dressed in a white gown, belly large, dark hair messy but beautiful all the same. She looks happy and radiant and a woman ready to bring joy and life into the world. She laughs at something Dracula says, then stands up on her toes and kisses him on the lips. With a final smile, she closes the door, and the Count walks away. The moment is intimate and peaceful, and it will never happen again.

The bird takes flight. It drifts through the quiet air, returning to its nest, studying its eggs.No, I think.That can’t be it.There must be something more.

Something.

To save Dracula.