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Story: Blood Rights (Eternal Descent (MistHallow Academy) #2)
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GAIDA
The silence that follows Felix’s question bears down on us all. What are we waiting for? None of us has an answer.
I shift the sword in my grip, suddenly aware of its burden. The responsibility it represents presses down on me, making me lightheaded.
“We need to secure the remaining Equilibrium members first,” Luke says, breaking the silence.
“No shit,” I mutter, earning a sharp look from him.
“Language, Miss Aragon.”
“Really? After everything that just happened, you’re concerned about my language?”
Luke sighs. “Old habits.”
The crystal orb on his desk shimmers. The map above shows the ferals moving erratically across the grounds, some still loose and the red dots, edging further away from the buildings towards the forest.
“We should split up,” Dante suggests, his eyes fixed on the map.
“Absolutely not,” Luke says.
Felix crosses his arms. “But we could cover more ground if?—”
“No,” Luke interrupts firmly. “We stay together. I cannot be worried about what the three of you are getting up to while we’ve still got hostiles on academy grounds.”
“Hostiles?” I snicker at the word but shut up promptly when Luke glares at me.
I glance down at the sword in my hand instead. The runes along its blade glow softly. Something about it feels ancient and alive as if it’s listening to our conversation.
“Can you put it away?” Felix asks, watching me carefully. “The sword, I mean. It’s... distracting.”
I try to loosen my grip, but my fingers refuse to cooperate. “I don’t think I can.”
“What do you mean?” Luke turns to me, concern, etching lines around his eyes.
“It feels wrong to let go of it.” I lift the sword slightly. “Like it’s part of me now.”
Luke steps closer, his gaze intense. “The Sword of Mashtar bonds with its wielder. A precaution against theft, I imagine, but also a sign of its acceptance of you.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Another thing I didn’t ask for, a needy sword.”
Luke reaches out to touch the blade, then thinks better of it and withdraws his hand. “We need to get you somewhere safe while we round up the ferals and deal with the remaining Equilibrium members. They failed this time, but they’ll try again.”
I straighten my spine, anger flaring. “I’m not hiding while you three play hero.”
“Gaida—” Dante starts.
“No. I’m coming with you. This sword chose me, and if what the Gargoyles said is true, I’m the only one who might be able to help the ferals eventually.”
The men exchange glances, having one of those silent male conversations that makes me want to scream.
“Fine,” Luke concedes finally. “But you stay between us at all times.”
“Fine,” I echo, though my rebellious nature bristles at being told what to do.
We move towards the door, Luke leading with Dante behind him. Felix takes position beside me, his hands still crackling with dark magick.
“Are you okay with that thing?” he asks quietly.
“Not remotely,” I admit. “But we don’t have time for me not to be.”
“Noted.”
As we step over the threshold, the Gargoyles turn their stone heads to watch us pass.
The hallways of MistHallow are quiet. Magickal barriers shimmer at the entrances to various halls. Behind them, frightened students huddle together, watching us pass with wide eyes.
We move through the academy carefully, Luke casting protection spells around us as we go.
A sudden scream pierces the air, followed by a crash of breaking glass.
“North,” Dante says, already moving. “A feral broke containment.”
We rush towards the sound. Rounding the corner, we find a female student crouched on the ground, hissing and snarling at Professor Wilkes, who has erected a barrier between them.
“Chloe,” I whisper.
The sword in my hand suddenly grows hot, the runes blazing golden. Without warning, images flood my mind:
Blood flowing over stone. Voices chanting in a language I’ve never heard yet somehow understand. A man with ancient eyes raising a blade—this damned blade—towards the night sky. “The Blood Queen shall arise when the old bonds shatter,” he intones, his voice echoing across centuries. “And she alone shall determine what rises from the ashes.”
I gasp, staggering back as the vision fades. Felix grabs my arm, steadying me.
“What happened?” he demands. “Your eyes went completely gold for a second.”
“I... I saw something,” I stammer, struggling to process what just flashed through my mind. “A vision, maybe? Someone using this sword, talking about the Blood Queen.”
Luke’s attention snaps to me despite the crisis unfolding before us. “What did you see exactly?”
“A ritual. Blood. Someone saying the Blood Queen would arise when bonds shatter.” I meet his gaze.
“Was he a monster vamp?” Felix asks, knowingly nodding his head.
“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him.”
“Draken,” he hisses, exchanging a glare with Luke, who appears to be sweating slightly.
He loosens his collar but stops when he sees me notice.
“Great. Does he look like that because he is aeons old or what? Please don’t tell me I’ll end up looking like mummy girl in a few thousand years’ time?” I wail.
“You’d have to survive that long first,” Luke mutters.
I gape at him. “Come again?”
He gives me a withering glare. “We are standing around here chatting like there aren’t more pressing things to be dealing with.”
“Fine,” I huff. “Help Professor Wilkes. I need a minute.”
Luke looks like he wants to say something, but I shake my head and take a step back. He accepts it, and they move forward to assist the professor with containing Chloe. I stand back, studying the blade in my hand. The sword isn’t just a weapon; it’s a repository of ancient vampire history, and possibly the future as well. It’s hard to tell if the vision was past or future.
But I know I’m meant to use this sword to fix this mess. The question is, what will happen when I do? I don’t want to be lumbered with a bunch of vampires looking at me as their new sire. I’ve never wanted that. The idea gives me the serious creeps. Not that I’m judging, but for me, it’s a hard no. All that responsibility, of being looked up to and revered… it makes me want to crawl under the bed and never come out.
Luke and Felix successfully subdue Chloe, binding her with magickal restraints.
“How many ferals are there now?” I hear Dante ask Wilkes.
“At least thirty-seven confirmed cases,” she replies. “We’ve managed to contain most of them in the eastern courtyard, but some broke free during transport.”
Thirty-seven vampires with severed bonds, reduced to feral states. Thirty-seven classmates now lost to bloodlust. Because of me.
“We need to get Chloe to the courtyard with the others,” Dante says.
I follow them as they carefully transport the bound, snarling Chloe through the hallways. The sword grows warmer in my grip with each step, as if anticipating something. Its weight shifts again, feeling almost buoyant now, balanced perfectly for my hand.
“I think it’s responding to the ferals,” I say as we approach the eastern courtyard.
“What do you mean?” Felix asks.
“It gets warmer when we’re near them. Almost... excited? That sounds crazy.”
“Not crazy,” Luke says. “The sword was created for this exact purpose, to remake bonds that have been broken.”
We reach the courtyard doors. Through the windows, I can see dozens of ferals pacing within magickal barriers, professors stationed at strategic points to maintain the containment.
“Ready?” Luke asks, his hand on the door.
I take a deep breath and nod. As the doors swing open, the sword blazes with golden light, and another flash of memory hits me:
The same man with ancient eyes, standing before a crowd of new vampires. He raises the sword, and threads of golden light extend from the blade, wrapping around each vampire present, binding them into a new order. “Thus are the bloodlines established,” he declares. “Thus is the covenant sealed.”
I gasp, blinking away the vision.
“Another vision?” Felix asks, noting my reaction.
“Yes,” I confirm. “I think I just saw how vampire society was first structured.”
“By whom?” Luke demands, suddenly intense.
“Draken, if that is who this arsehole is. He used this sword to create the first sire bonds.”
Luke’s expression turns grim. “And now it seems it has chosen you to decide what happens next.”
“Too bad, I don’t know what this is.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Luke says confidently. But then, he is always confident. He always knows what to do.
I need his solid, dependable self now more than anything.
“What did you mean the first sire bonds? Do you mean the ancient families?” Dante asks, almost snapping at me.
“I think so…” I reply, trying not to take his brusque attitude to heart. “The vampires gathered were new, but I can’t tell if they were born or sired. I’m leaning towards turned…” I stare up at him, and he stares back at me, his face stony as he takes in what I’m saying.
“So you’re saying none of you are pureblood vampires?” Felix asks, his academic curiosity at an all-time high.
“Possibly not, or at least the first ones weren’t,” I mutter, never taking my eyes off Dante. The world has been ripped out from under our feet, but honestly, when I dig deep, I’m not too bothered by it. It actually makes sense in a way. “Our parents weren’t the originals; neither were our grandparents or even great-grandparents. We have been bred into pureblood status.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “That’s a way to fall.”
“Not really,” I say, taking his hand. “We are still us. We still have parents of our blood.”
He nods slowly. “True. I guess I just assumed…”
“We all did. But think about it, Dante. How many times have our parents told us we’re better than everyone else? That we’re special?” I squeeze his hand. “It’s all rubbish. The only thing that makes us special is that our ancestors got lucky in the magickal vampire lottery.”
As the truth settles over us, I feel like a veil has been lifted from my eyes.
It’s kind of liberating.