Page 40

40

GAIDA

I exist everywhere and nowhere.

The space between worlds is vast and endless, filled with whispers of realities that brush against each other like silk. I maintain the boundaries, my consciousness stretched thin across countless dimensions, holding them apart and keeping the chaos at bay. Time has no meaning here. I could have been doing this for seconds or centuries. In this state, they are the same.

The Blood Queen’s consciousness remains contained within me, her ancient awareness dormant but ever-present. Sometimes, I feel her stirring, testing the boundaries of her prison, but I hold firm. This is my purpose now—my sacrifice.

“You’re daydreaming again,” Draken chides me from my side. He hasn’t left me since I got here, which was… when, exactly? Who knows?

“It’s hard to focus,” I murmur. “There is too much going on all at once. It hurts to breathe.”

He nods slowly. “I know, my Queen. You are grieving, but you aren’t focused enough.”

“I just said that.”

He places a finger to my lips. “Listen…”

I strain my hearing, but it’s pointless. I can’t hear anything. “What?” I shrug listlessly, wondering what my guys are doing right now without me. I hope Felix is hanging on, and that Luke is helping him. I hate what I did. I hate having to leave him. I hate myself. But I didn’t have a choice.

“Can’t you hear it?” Draken’s voice interrupts my self-loathing.

“No,” I snap.

He presses his fingers harder against my lips. “Shh, close your eyes and focus.”

I do as he says, even though I’m getting annoyed with him.

Then I hear something. A very faint tap-tap-tap sound. I frown and listen harder.

“What is it?” I murmur.

“Your future.”

My eyes fly open. “What?”

“Your child, my Queen.”

I stare down at my stomach, my body still whole after the sacrifice, just in this weird in-between place. “Child?” I murmur, placing my hand gently over my womb. “What are you talking about?”

But then I remember Constantine’s words. In your condition . How did he know? How does everyone know except me?

“This can’t be happening,” I groan.

“But it is, my Queen. You should be happy.”

“Happy?” I spit out, moving away from him. “How can I be happy when I’m in this place, dead by all accounts and supposed to birth and raise a child here?”

“You won’t be here for long. They are calling for you.”

“Who are?” I ask, my blood running cold.

“Your men. I’ve been giving them signs. It’s taken the young sorcerer a few days to figure it out, but they are ready for your return.”

“My return? I can’t go back! The worlds will merge again with the Blood Queen’s power!”

“No, they won’t,” Draken says with absolute certainty. “The Blood Queen’s power is contained in the chalice, separate from you now. The ritual they’re performing is specifically designed to recall your consciousness alone.”

I stare at him, not daring to believe. “How do you know this?”

“I’ve been watching them. The young sorcerer is quite brilliant. He figured out what the original thirteen founders did and reversed it.” Draken’s eyes gleam with something like pride. “They’ve already attempted the ritual once, but it failed.”

“Failed? Why?”

“Luke’s doubt. He wanted to believe but couldn’t quite commit. He does now. He wants you back more than anything, but he is scared.”

“How can you see all of this?”

“I’m gifted that way, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I remember him telling me about the sight he has.

“But Luke is not all to blame, you are as well, Gaida.”

“Me?” I say indignantly. “I didn’t even know they were calling me!”

“You won’t choose to be the thing you fear the most.”

“Oh? And what is that then?”

“The Blood Queen.”

“No,” I say, backing away and holding my hand up. “We aren’t playing this game.”

“Oh, but we are. Do you want to leave your men in grief for eternity? Your charges to go feral and possibly die?”

I gulp. I was trying desperately not to think about that, was trying to hope that they would find a way to make it work. “I don’t even know how to do what you’re saying! And why wouldn’t it destroy the worlds if I become her? Her purpose is to merge.”

“Not become her. Accept her power without her consciousness. The Blood Queen essence without the destructive intent.”

“That’s semantics,” I argue. “Power is power.”

“No. Intent matters.”

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold in this timeless place. “And my child? What happens to my baby if I take this power?”

Draken smiles. “Your child is already extraordinary. A true miracle. The offspring of two pure-blood vampires, conceived while you carried the Blood Queen’s power.”

“Will it be... normal?” I whisper.

“Define normal,” he says with a wry smile. “But no, probably not. Your child will be the first of its kind, probably the only one of its kind.”

“So, you’re saying if I accept this power truly, I can stop the worlds from smashing back together? Why didn’t you say this before?”

“You weren’t ready.”

Well, he has me there.

“But I could’ve saved everyone so much grief, so much pain.”

He shakes his head. “I was already gone when you sacrificed yourself, with no way to tell you anything. But it wouldn’t have changed anything, Gaida. You have had to go through all of this to reach the point where you are truly ready to accept who you are now.”

“And who is that exactly?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Draken’s expression turns solemn. “The guardian of the boundaries. Not their prisoner, but their keeper. The Blood Queen sought to destroy them; you will maintain them. Different intent, different outcome.”

I consider his words. A child I thought would never happen. Dante’s child. Our child.

“They’re trying again,” Draken says suddenly, his head tilting as if listening to something beyond my perception. “The ritual. It’s stronger this time.”

I can feel it too now. It’s a tugging sensation, like invisible threads connecting to something deep within me. Three distinct pulls, each with its own signature: Luke’s ancient power, steady and unyielding; Felix’s brilliant intensity, focused like a laser; and Dante’s raw emotional force, pure and desperate.

And mine, knowing my true purpose was never to sacrifice myself and stay gone, but to use it as a tool to become better. Become more.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, fear creeping into my voice.

“Follow the threads,” Draken instructs. “Let them guide you home.”

“Will you come with me?”

He smiles sadly. “My time passed long ago. This was my purpose, Gaida, to help you understand yours.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching for his hand. “For everything.”

“Remember who you are, Gaida. Not what you contain, but who you choose to be.”

The threads grow stronger, pulsing with the combined energy of their ritual. I close my eyes and reach out, feeling the distinct signatures of each bond more clearly now.

Luke’s thread feels like ancient stone, worn smooth by time yet unyielding in its strength. Felix’s burns bright with determination, a scholar’s focused passion mingled with the fierce protectiveness of new vampirism. And Dante’s... Dante’s thread vibrates with such raw emotion that it makes my breath catch. Love and desperation are interwoven so tightly that they’ve become a single force.

“I can feel them,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “So clearly.”

“Then go to them,” Draken urges. “They’re ready. You’re ready.”

I hesitate, one hand still protectively covering my stomach. “And my child will be safe?”

“Your child is part of you. Where you go, the little one goes. A miracle child born of love. Trust that this is meant to be.”

The threads tug more insistently now, and I hear their voices, faint, distant, but unmistakable.

“I believe,” Luke’s voice echoes through the void. The conviction in those two words sends a shiver through me. Whatever doubts held him back before have been overcome.

“Follow us home,” Felix calls, his voice strained with effort.

“Please,” Dante’s voice breaks on the word, the naked need in it nearly unmaking me. “Come back to us, Gaida.”

Drawing a deep breath, I gather my courage and reach for the threads with both hands, grasping them firmly. “Goodbye, Draken.”

“Not goodbye,” he says, his form already beginning to fade. “We’ll meet again someday. For now, live. Live fully.”

As his final words echo around me, I close my eyes and pull on the threads, letting them draw me forward through the formless void. The sensation is disorienting, like falling upward, like drowning in air, like being torn apart and remade all at once.

The Blood Queen’s consciousness stirs within me, sensing the change. For a moment, I feel her resistance, her determination to remain in this between-space where she has more freedom. But as Draken said, intent matters. This is my choice, my purpose. I am not her prisoner; she is mine, and when my feet hit solid ground again, her power will be mine. All of it. Every last shred, and I will protect the worlds as fiercely as I will my unborn child.

The threads pull tighter, the ritual’s power reaching its peak. I can almost see the triangulation circle, the three points where my men stand, their blood and offerings creating the pathway back to physical form.

Light blooms around me. It is not the vague, formless illumination of the between-space, but structured light and patterned light that form a doorway of intersecting lines and symbols. Through it, I see the Custodia Chamber, see the three men with their hands raised, their faces transfixed with concentration and hope.

Home. They’re calling me home.

I step toward the doorway, only to feel a sudden, wrenching resistance. Looking down, I see crimson tendrils wrapping around my wrists and ankles, trying to hold me back. The Blood Queen is making one last desperate attempt to prevent our return.

“We’re going,” I say calmly. “This is my choice, not yours.”

The tendrils tighten, biting into my skin. Pain lances through me, sharp and immediate in a way nothing has felt in this formless realm. But pain means I’m becoming physical again, returning to a body that can feel.

I push forward despite the resistance, dragging the crimson tendrils with me. “This power is no longer yours. It’s mine and mine alone.”

For a moment, the resistance increases, nearly driving me to my knees. Then, abruptly, it vanishes. The crimson tendrils dissolve, their energy flowing back into me with a shock that steals my breath.

Surrender.

Complete and sweet.

She knows she has lost. The power is mine, and she is… nothing.

I smile as this is a battle I didn’t think I would win.

I feel suddenly heavier, like my body is remembering its substance, its physical limitations. The doorway looms before me, close enough to touch now. Beyond it, I can see my men more clearly.

One more step. Just one more.

I reach through the doorway, my hand appearing in their world like a ghost becoming solid.

“Help me,” I call to them, my voice strange and echoing. “Pull me through!”

All three move at once, reaching for my outstretched hand. Felix grasps my fingers first, his grip firm. Dante’s hand closes around my wrist, his touch unleashing a flood of sensations, warmth, solidity, connection. Luke takes my elbow, his ancient strength anchoring me as they pull together.

The moment I cross fully into the physical world, reality crashes down upon me with brutal force. Gravity, temperature, the limits of flesh, all things I’d forgotten in the formless void, return at once. My knees buckle, but they catch me, easing me gently to the floor of the ritual circle.

“Gaida,” Dante whispers, his hand trembling as he brushes hair from my face. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” I confirm, my voice rough. Speaking feels strange, and my tongue is heavy and awkward in my physical form.

Felix kneels beside me, his eyes glowing with hunger. “How do you feel? Any disorientation? Pain?”

“I’m okay,” I assure them, surprised to find it’s true. “It’s different now. I’m different.”

Dante helps me sit up fully, his arm supporting my back. “Different how?”

I consider the question, taking stock of my transformed state. “Before, when I contained her power, it was like holding back a flood with my bare hands. Constant effort, constant struggle. Now...” I pause, searching for the right words. “Now it’s like the flood has become a river, and I am its course. I don’t contain it so much as direct it.”

“You accepted the power,” Luke murmurs.

“Yes,” I nod slowly. “She is gone.”

Luke’s expression remains cautious. “And the boundaries between worlds? Will they hold?”

“Yes,” I say with certainty. “That’s my purpose now. Not to destroy the boundaries, but to maintain them.” I meet his gaze directly. “Intent matters, Luke. The power is the same, but what I choose to do with it is entirely different.”

Something in his expression softens, tension easing from his shoulders. “You were always meant for great things, Miss Aragon,” he says with a soft smirk.

“I’m sorry I left you,” I say, cupping Felix’s face but looking at all of them. “It was a journey I had to take.”

“We understand,” Dante says, even though I don’t think he does, or think he even can. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

With their help, I rise to my feet, testing my balance. My body feels simultaneously familiar and strange. Everything is where I remember it being, but nothing feels quite the same size or shape as before.

The chalice sits in the middle of the ritual circle, its surface inscribed with symbols that glow with the same crimson light that now runs through my veins. I reach for it instinctively, knowing it remains connected to me, to the power I contain.

“The chalice is part of the binding,” I explain as my fingers close around it. “This is mine now.”

“Do you need to keep it with you?” Felix asks.

“For now, yes. Until I learn to manage this new state completely.” I hold the chalice against my chest, feeling the resonance between it and the energy flowing through me. “It’s like training wheels. Eventually, I might not need it, but for now, it helps maintain the balance.”

Dante’s brow furrows slightly. “And if someone were to take it from you?”

I consider this, probing the connection between myself and the chalice. “It wouldn’t matter. I could live without it. Anyone who touches it will regret it, though,” I say, feeling the burn myself. “A bit like Mashtar’s sword.”

They get that and give the chalice a wide berth, which makes me giggle.

For the first time, I truly look around at my surroundings, taking in the Custodia Chamber. Parts of it have collapsed, and debris is scattered across the ancient stone floor. The ritual circle where we stand seems to be one of the few intact areas.

“How long?” I ask, suddenly realising I have no sense of time passed. “How long have I been gone?”

The three exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them.

“A week,” Felix answers finally. “Seven days since you disappeared.”

A week. It feels like both an eternity and an instant. In the between-space, time had no meaning. Here, in the physical world, a week represents seven days of grief, of searching, of desperate hope.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking at each of them. “I thought there was no other way. I thought my sacrifice was final.”

“You did what you had to do,” Luke says, his voice rough with emotion he rarely displays. “You saved everyone, saved the worlds. All is intact, as it should be.”

“But at what cost to you?” I ask, reaching out to touch his face, seeing the shadows under his eyes, the strain etched into his features. “To all of you?”

“Worth it,” Dante says immediately. “Whatever it cost, having you back makes it worth it.”

Felix nods in agreement, though I notice he sways slightly from the exhaustion of maintaining the ritual. “We found a way. That’s what matters.”

I want to tell them about the child, about the miracle growing inside me. But the words stick in my throat. There will be time for that revelation, once we’re somewhere safer, once I’m sure the integration is stable.

“We should leave this place,” Luke suggests, glancing around. “And never come back.”

“And what happens now?” I ask tentatively.

“We pick up where we left off,” Dante says. “The outside world has no memory of what happened.”

I blink. “Oh.”

As we prepare to leave the chamber, I feel a strange doubling of my perception. Part of me remains firmly in the physical world, aware of my body, my surroundings, and the three men beside me. But another part extends outward, my consciousness brushing against the boundaries between worlds, sensing where they’re strong and where they need reinforcement.

“Gaida?” Felix touches my arm, concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”

I blink, focusing back on the immediate present. “Yes. Sorry. It’s just... I can sense them. The boundaries. All of them, everywhere.”

“That will take some adjustment,” he says with the understated practicality I’ve always appreciated about him.

“Understatement of the century,” I murmur, earning a small smile from him.

Dante doesn’t leave my side as Luke teleports us out of the chamber to his office above, his hand firmly clasping mine as if afraid I might disappear again.

I stop for a moment, simply breathing. Air has never tasted so sweet, and stars have never shone so brightly. Being physical again after existing in that formless state makes every sensation seem heightened and precious.

“Welcome back,” Dante whispers beside me.

I turn to him, to all of them, these three men who refused to accept my sacrifice as final, who found a way to bring me home. “Thank you,” I say, knowing the words are inadequate for what they’ve done, for what they’ve given me. “For believing I could come back. For making it possible.”

Luke’s expression softens in a way I’ve rarely seen. “Always.”

Felix smiles, exhaustion temporarily forgotten. “It’s good to have you home, Gaida.”

Dante simply squeezes my hand, too overcome for words.

“Let’s get that thing somewhere out of reach,” Luke says, eyeing up the chalice.

I nod. “How about the shelf in my room?” I say with a smile, and I swear I hear Draken laugh. I look up and I know he’s there, watching over me.

I am changed, irrevocably. Something new, something unprecedented. Guardian of the boundaries, keeper of the balance between worlds. Mother to a miracle child not yet revealed.

But for all that has changed, one thing remains constant: I am not alone. Whatever challenges this new existence brings, whatever burdens come with my transformed nature, I will face them with these three beside me. My men. My family. My anchors in a world I thought I’d left behind forever.

As Luke sweeps us to my room with his magick and I place the chalice on the highest shelf, I turn and offer my wrist to Felix.

“Are you sure?” he asks carefully.

“You need it. Take it.”

Felix’s eyes darken, hunger warring with concern on his face. “I’ve been barely holding on,” he admits. “But I want to make sure you’re stable first.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, pushing my wrist closer to him. “Take it.”

He hesitates only a moment longer before he lunges at me. His fangs pierce my skin roughly. The sensation is different now. I can feel my blood flowing into him, and I can sense our connection strengthening with each pull he takes. The sire bond hums between us, vibrant and alive again.

Luke watches with ravenous eyes, and I offer my other wrist to him. His fangs are slicing into my flesh in the next second, and as both my charges feed from me and Dante moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and muzzling my neck, I have never felt more alive.

I am Gaida Aragon, and I have returned. Changed, but not diminished. Powerful, but not conquered.