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LUKE

Control has always been my anchor. For centuries, I’ve maintained it through sheer force of will with the perfect balance of power, discipline, and calculated risk. But as I stand at my office window watching ferals tear across the academy grounds, I feel that control slipping through my fingers like sand.

Felix’s potion burns through my system faster than anticipated. I can feel the artificial stability crumbling, giving way to the yawning void of severance that waits to claim me, just as it’s claimed so many others.

I’m unravelling. And with it, my sanity threatens to follow.

I grip the edge of my desk hard enough to splinter the ancient wood.

Three ferals burst through the eastern treeline, faculty members I’d known for decades. People I’d hired. People I’d trusted with the education of countless supernatural youth. Now reduced to snarling, blood-crazed monsters.

The academy alarm continues its urgent wail, irritating me and grating on my already shot nerves. But now isn’t the time to fall.

Containment is underway, and I should be out there, but I’m scared for Gaida. Scared for the boys she cares about. It’s crippling me and making me less than I should be. I knew this would happen. I knew my feelings for her would overtake any sense of responsibility I had to this academy.

I press my fingers to my temples, trying to push back the building pressure. Time is running out. For me, for MistHallow, for everything I’ve built over centuries.

Another wave hits me, stronger this time. My vision blurs momentarily, the room tilting sideways before I manage to blink it back into focus.

“Gaida,” I whisper, though she’s nowhere near to hear me. The connection between us glimmers faintly despite everything, a tether I’ve fought against for too long.

I stagger to the centre of my office, fighting to maintain consciousness. My hands shake as I trace a complex pattern in the air, activating the emergency protocols I’d hoped never to use. The academy’s deepest wards flare to life, silver and black light racing through the stone walls like lightning through storm clouds.

The screams are expected as every innocent creature is slammed back behind barriers with a force that will knock most of them unconscious. Some will never rouse, and that is why this was a last resort.

The effort nearly brings me to my knees. I catch myself against my desk, knocking over a crystal decanter that shatters on the floor. The scent of aged blood fills the room, my private reserve, now soaking into the carpet.

Swiping my hand across my face, I force myself upright. I need to do damage control, make sure the students are safe.

A thunderous crash echoes from the direction of the main gates. The outer wards have fallen. It shouldn’t be possible. Felix and I created an impenetrable shield.

Then it strikes me, the wards are failing because I am.

The sword appears on my desk, and I snatch it up. I don’t have time to waste, or wait around for Constantine to return. This needs to be dealt with immediately. If the inner wards are breached, those who are coming for Gaida, for the sword, will get to her and rip her apart.

Launching myself out of my office and into the chaos, part of which I’ve caused, it’s an absolute mess. The ferals who were already inside the wards when their bonds broke are running rampant, containment is damn near impossible with this many of them. And I can do… nothing. I’m not strong enough.

Or maybe I am with the sword. Gaida managed it. Maybe I can as well with these Blood Rights of hers burning through my veins.

“Bind them all!”

The command rips from my throat, a desperate last resort as I channel what remains of my power into the sword. Golden light explodes outward in a blinding wave, sweeping across the grounds. Every feral it touches freezes mid-motion, suspended in that golden glow.

For a moment, blessed silence falls over the academy. Even the alarms seem muted, as if the world itself holds its breath.

Then the pain hits me—white-hot and all-consuming. Binding this many at once is beyond my strength, especially in my current state. My knees buckle as I feel each feral’s consciousness slam into mine. Dozens of them, their hunger and rage battering against my mental shields like a tsunami against a crumbling sea wall.

“Headmaster!”

Someone is calling me, but their voice seems miles away. I can barely keep myself upright, let alone respond. The sword grows heavier in my grip, feeding on my dwindling reserves to maintain the mass binding.

“Luke! Let it go!”

Strong hands grip my shoulders. Professor Ashwood’s face is twisted with concern.

“Can’t,” I grunt. “If I release them now?—”

“You’ll die,” she finishes, her voice breaking. “The sword is draining you dry. You need Gaida.”

I take a moment to think about how she knows about the sword, about Gaida’s connection to it or what I’m doing right now, but it is all painfully clear. She is working for them.

“I don’t take orders from traitors,” I spit out. “You will never get to Gaida.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but it’s fake. I can see straight through it. “Luke, I’m not?—”

“I can feel it. The sword is telling me not to trust you.”

She steps back, her expression hardening. “You’re not thinking clearly. The severance is affecting your judgement.”

“My judgement is perfectly clear,” I growl, the sword’s golden light intensifying. “You chose the wrong side, Ashwood.”

With a flick of my wrist, I extend the sword to her. Golden threads wrap around her body, freezing her in place. Her eyes bulge with fear and rage.

“I was trying to help you,” she hisses.

“By leading them straight to Gaida?” I snarl. “I don’t think so.”

Black spots dance across my vision as I struggle to maintain control. I need to reach the underground chambers, need to make sure Gaida is safe.

With each step I take, the sword grows heavier, the connections to the bound ferals stretching thin. I can feel them fighting against my hold, their combined strength slowly overwhelming mine. They don’t want me, they want Gaida, but that isn’t happening.

A deep rumble shakes the academy, dust falling from the ceiling. The inner wards are on the verge of collapse. The ferals that are coming for Gaida, to save them, to heal them, to whatever else it is they want, are closing in. I need to hurry. I need to keep them all away from Gaida.

Staggering away from my office, towards the boundary line, as far away from the library as I can get, I meet the ferals at the gate. Hundreds of them, all once sired by Aurelius Aragon or one of his charges. All connected to Gaida through her father. All are now connected to me, through the Blood Rights that are like poison in my veins.

I draw them in, the sword glowing brighter with each step I take. It’s the ultimate sacrifice, but I’ll make it gladly if it means keeping her safe.

“Come to me,” I command, my voice carrying across the grounds despite its weakness. “I am your master now.”

The ferals press forward, their black eyes fixed on me with single-minded purpose. They see only the blood connection, the thread that links them to what they’ve lost.

As the first wave reaches me, breaching the wards at my command, I raise the sword high into the air. Golden light erupts in a perfect circle, creating a boundary they cannot cross. They hurl themselves against it, snarling and clawing, their faces twisted with mindless hunger.

“That’s right,” I murmur, sinking to one knee as my strength fails. “Stay focused on me.”

Blood trickles from my nose, my ears. The binding is killing me, cell by cell. I can feel my body shutting down, organs failing one by one. But I need to hold on just a little longer, need to keep their attention away from Gaida.

The sword drinks my lifeforce like a starving leech. I can feel it reaching deeper for everything that I am.

“Not yet,” I growl, fighting against it. “I’m not done.”

My vision is tunnelling, darkness creeping in from all sides, but I force myself to focus on the approaching figure. Aurelius strides through the ranks of ferals with casual arrogance, a gleaming chalice in one hand. Even from this distance, I can feel its power. Ancient, raw, a perfect counterpoint to the sword I now wield.

The Chalice of Draken.

“Luke,” he calls, his voice carrying easily across the distance between us. “This is quite the display. I’m impressed. You care for her more than I thought.”

I struggle to my feet, using the sword as a crutch. Blood drips steadily from my chin, soaking the front of my shirt. “You doubted me? Doubted her?”

He laughs, the sound grating against my heightened senses. “I figured it was a mere infatuation. You have proven yourself worthy.”

I gesture to the ferals surrounding us, still bound by the sword’s power. “You can’t reach her. I won’t let you.”

Aurelius stops at the edge of my golden barrier, studying it with clinical interest. “The sword doesn’t belong to you, Blackthorn. It’s rejecting you even now. Can’t you feel it?”

He’s right. The sword fights me with every passing second, its power digging into my soul like talons. It doesn’t want me. It wants Gaida. But I won’t surrender it, not while I still draw breath.

“What I feel is the certainty that whatever you’re planning for your daughter, it isn’t for her benefit.”

Aurelius’s expression darkens. “You know nothing of what I plan. Gaida is the key to saving us all. You, me, the whole damn lot of us are doomed without her.”

“So you’d rather destroy who she is by forcing her to become what you want?” I shake my head, immediately regretting the movement as my vision swims. “You don’t deserve to have her as your daughter.”

“The sword chose Gaida.”

“It did. Not you. There’s a reason for that.”

Aurelius lifts the chalice, its surface catching the fading daylight. “I am the Guardian of the chalice. My daughter, my blood, is the wielder of the sword. You have nothing to do with this.”

“You’re so blinded by your ambition that you can’t see what you’re doing to your own daughter. To all vampires.”

“What I do, I do for all of us. The severance cannot be stopped now, only redirected.”

“Redirected through Gaida. The Blood Queen, a pawn you can control so you have your army of mindless vampires ready to do her bidding. Your bidding.”

His silence is confirmation enough.

“It will kill her,” I say flatly. “No one could withstand that much power, that many connections.”

“You underestimate my daughter.”

“And you underestimate the lengths I will go to protect her.”

Aurelius’s eyes narrow. “You can’t even keep yourself safe. How much longer do you think you can maintain this binding? Minutes? Seconds?”

As if triggered by his words, pain lances through me, sharp and brutal. My grip on the sword falters momentarily, and several of the bound ferals twitch, the golden threads connecting us flickering dangerously.

Aurelius notices. “Ah, there it goes. Your control is slipping, Blackthorn. And when it breaks completely...”

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. When my control breaks, all these ferals will be loose again, and I’ll be among them, lost to the hunger and rage that comes with full severance.