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A zrael reached for his blade, his fingers tightening around the hilt. “Elara,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Are you ready?”

I took a steadying breath, then nodded. “Do it.”

He unsheathed his dagger, its edge gleaming in the pale light. He took my hand without hesitation, his grip warm against my skin. His gaze held mine for a moment longer before he pressed the blade against my palm. A sharp sting followed a thin line of crimson welling up from the cut.

When my blood touched the tome, the runes flared brighter, rapidly shifting. The magic surrounding Ebonshade trembled, an unseen force unravelling before us.

Darius tensed, his hand resting on his weapon. “Something’s happening.”

A deep rumble echoed through the night. The fortress groaned as though awakening from a slumber. Then, with a sudden jolt, the massive iron gates shuddered and began to creak open, revealing nothing but a yawning darkness beyond.

Azrael sheathed his dagger, his expression grim. “This is it.”

I clenched my wounded hand into a fist, ignoring the dull throb. “Then let’s finish this. ”

We stepped forward, into the shadows of Ebonshade Keep.

The air inside was heavy and thick with the scent of old magic and decay. The torches that lined the walls flickered with an eerie, bluish glow, casting elongated shadows that moved even when we did not. The deeper we went, the more the silence pressed in, wrapping around us like a living thing.

I snapped my gaze to my hand. The wound was healing, and the vampire within me was showing now.

Darius shifted uneasily. “Something about this place makes my skin crawl.”

“Because it’s alive,” Azrael murmured. “The walls, the stone, all of it, it remembers.”

A shiver ran through me. I had felt it the moment we crossed the threshold. Ebonshade Keep was not just a fortress, I remembered. It was now a prison. A tomb. And Kaelen was at its heart.

I tightened my grip on the tome, its runes pulsing faintly, guiding us deeper into the darkness. The path ahead twisted and shifted as if the corridors themselves sought to confuse us, but I would not be deterred.

Not when he was waiting for me.

Not when time was running out.

A low whisper slithered through the corridor, an unnatural

sound that sent ice crawling down my spine. I halted, my breath catching as the shadows along the walls thickened, writhing like living tendrils.

Darius swore under his breath. “Tell me that’s just the wind.”

Azrael’s hand hovered over his blade. “Stay close. And do not listen to anything you hear.”

The whispers grew louder, forming words that barely scraped comprehension. My name. My mother’s voice. Kaelen’s voice. Each word was twisted, distorted, laced with a venom meant to burrow under my skin.

“Elara...”

I froze.

That was Kaelen .

It wasn’t a trick; I knew his voice, its cadence, and the raw

edge of pain laced within. The tome in my grip pulsed as if urging me forward.

Azrael’s fingers brushed against mine, anchoring me. “He’s close.”

My heart pounded. I moved without thinking, my steps quickening as the whispers clawed at my mind. The corridor opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost to the shadows above. And at its centre,

Chains.

Heavy, obsidian chains bound a figure to a raised stone dais. Magic pulsed through them, dark and ancient, coiling around him like a parasite.

Kaelen.

His silver hair was unkempt, strands falling over his face. His head was bowed. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, as though he were caught in the throes of something between sleep and agony.

I stepped forward, but when my foot crossed the threshold, the runes in the tome flared violently. A deafening crack split the air, and the chains shuddered.

Kaelen’s head lifted, his eyes snapping open.

They were black as the void.

And he was no longer the Kaelen I once knew.

A guttural growl ripped from Kaelen’s throat, reverberating

through the chamber like a beast awoken from its slumber. His obsidian chains strained, the magic sealing them flickering wildly, as though his mere presence was enough to unravel their ancient bindings.

“Elara...” His voice was hoarse, distorted, layered with something darker, something inhuman.

Azrael moved in front of me, blade drawn. “That is not him anymore.”

Kaelen’s head tilted slightly, his blackened eyes locking onto mine. A flicker of something familiar flashed behind the void, pain, recognition. Then, just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by something cold and hungry.

The shadows around him surged, spreading like ink, tendrils slithering toward us.

Darius drew his weapon. “Well, that’s horrifying.”

I swallowed hard, gripping the tome tighter. “We can still save him.”

Azrael didn’t look convinced. “You’d risk everything for a chance that he’s still in there?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The runes on the tome flared, reacting to my resolve. The chains binding Kaelen pulsed in response, as though the magic itself was questioning its hold. Kaelen shuddered, his body jerking against the bindings. A snarl twisted his lips, but behind it, I saw a battle waging within him.

“Elara,” he rasped again, his voice momentarily breaking through the corruption. “Help me...”

I stepped forward, ignoring Azrael’s sharp warning. Raising the tome, I let my blood drip onto its surface once more. The magic reacted instantly, surging toward Kaelen like a tidal wave. The shadows screamed, recoiling as ancient words spilt from my lips, unbidden but powerful.

Kaelen’s body arched against the magic, his chains rattling violently. Darkness poured from his mouth in a deafening wail as the corruption inside him fought back. The chamber trembled, the very walls resisting my intervention.

“Elara!” Azrael called, but I couldn’t stop now.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against Kaelen’s wrist. The moment we touched, the shadows recoiled entirely, and for the first time, his gaze met mine, clear, untainted. A moment of clarity. A moment of hope.

Then, the entire fortress screamed, and the darkness surged forward to claim us all.

Kaelen’s body convulsed violently, his lips peeling back into something between a grimace and a snarl. But instead of relief, instead of salvation, a slow, chilling laughter spilt from his mouth. The sound echoed through the chamber, dripping with something twisted, something cruel.

“Elara,” he whispered, his voice no longer pleading. It was mocking. “Did you really think you could save me?”

The hope I had clung to shattered. My breath hitched as Kaelen pulled against the chains, his form shifting, dark tendrils curling from his fingertips like living shadows. “It’s too late,” he hissed. “You were always too late.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. The tome trembled in my grasp, the runes flickering erratically. I had given everything, but Kaelen was already lost.

Then, from the darkest corner of the chamber, a slow, deliberate clapping filled the silence. A figure stepped forward, emerging from the abyss with a wicked grin.

“Withers?” My voice barely escaped my lips. But the thing before me was not the Withers I had known.

His once kind eyes were hollow pits of black, his once warm face gaunt and stretched too tightly over his skull.

His butler’s uniform remained, but it was frayed and tainted with something vile, as though the darkness had seeped into the fabric.

He moved with an unnatural grace, his limbs too fluid, too wrong.

“Oh, my dear Elara,” he drawled, voice eerily smooth. “You always were the sentimental one.”

Terror coiled around my spine like a vice. This was not my friend. This was something else entirely.

Azrael’s grip on his weapon tightened. “That’s not Withers.”

The thing wearing his face let out a chuckle.

“No? And yet...” He stepped closer, his gaze locked onto mine, studying me with an almost fascinated curiosity.

“I remember you. I remember your voice, how you used to laugh, and how you used to trust me.” His head tilted, his grin stretching wider, unnatural. “Isn’t that enough?”

Darius swore under his breath. “Nope. Absolutely not. ”

I swallowed against the knot in my throat, forcing myself to stand firm. “What have you done to him?”

Withers, whatever he had become, sighed, as if my question exhausted him.

“Elara, Elara, always asking the wrong things.” He lifted a hand, and the shadows responded instantly, swirling at his fingertips like obedient pets.

“I have shown him who he really is. The power he can wield, Kaelen is full of darkness. Courtesy of Lord Garth himself, who didn’t give in to his power. ”

The darkness coiled, tendrils stretching toward us. The air thickened, suffocating, pressing against my chest. The tome trembled violently in my grasp as if warning me, urging me to flee.

Azrael took a sharp step forward, his free hand lifting as ancient runes ignited along his forearm. “Enough.” His voice was steel, layered with something raw and commanding. “Elara, Darius, hold on.”

“What?” Darius’s eyes widened as Azrael’s magic flared, the sigils around his wrist pulsing with a brilliant, blinding light.

Realisation hit me a second too late. “Azrael, wait, ”

Magic erupted around us. A force like a hurricane tore through the chamber, ripping shadows apart, shattering stone. Withers’ expression twisted in fury, his form flickering, distorting in the chaotic energy.

“You can’t run from this, Azrael,” he snarled, voice layered with something ancient and hungry. “You can’t run from me.” Azrael didn’t answer. His magic surged, wrapping around

me and Darius in bands of golden light. My vision blurred, the world spinning as the fortress dissolved around us in a rush of wind and power.

Then, silence.

I stumbled forward, gasping as solid ground formed beneath my feet. The thick, suffocating air of Ebonshade was gone, replaced by something...calmer.

We were no longer in the fortress .

I blinked, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts as I took in our surroundings: high stone walls, towering bookshelves, and dim candlelight flickering in sconces along the arched ceiling.

Azrael’s keep.

Azrael stood a few paces away, his chest rising and falling heavily, his hand still raised from the spell. His magic flickered out, leaving him visibly drained.

Darius exhaled sharply. “You couldn’t have given us a warning before doing that?”

Azrael barely spared him a glance. “We didn’t have time.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead, my mind still spinning. “Kaelen, Withers, ”

“They’re still there,” Azrael said grimly. “But if we had stayed, we wouldn’t have made it out.”

I clenched my fists, frustration warring with the crushing weight of failure. “We can’t leave them.”

Azrael met my gaze, his expression unreadable. “Then we need to be stronger.”

I swallowed hard, the reality settling over me like a shroud. We had escaped, but Ebonshade still held Kaelen and Withers in its grasp. And if we were going to save them, we would have to be ready for whatever darkness awaited us next.