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FELIX

Dante is barely conscious, and Gaida has collapsed completely. The ceiling is coming down in chunks that grow larger by the second. My shield won’t hold much longer, and we’re trapped in a primitive chamber that’s collapsing along with the vampire bloodlines it was designed to preserve.

“Welcome to MistHallow, where shit hits the fan on a regular basis,” I mutter.

I need to get us out before we’re crushed or buried alive. The chamber seems determined to become our tomb, and I’m equally determined not to let that happen.

“Dante,” I snap, my voice harsh with urgency. “I need you with it. Now.”

He looks up at me from where he was staring at Gaida, completely zoned out. “What exactly happened here?”

“Short version: We’re about to be crushed, Gaida’s unconscious after taking on some of your empathic burden that was killing you, and I need your help to get us all out of here.”

Another massive chunk of ceiling crashes against my shield, and I grunt with the effort of maintaining it. Sweat pours down my face, my arms trembling with strain.

“Gaida,” Dante murmurs, looking at her again. Her face is deathly pale, blood trickling from her nose, ears, and the corners of her eyes. The same symptoms Dante had before she blood-bonded with him. “What did she do?”

“She blood bonded with you. Practically drained you and then you did the same to her,” I explain tersely. “Now help me save her by getting us out of here.”

Dante’s face darkens with understanding and guilt. “Dammit, Gaida,” he growls. “Why did she do this to herself?”

“To save your dumb arse,” I growl, channelling more power into my shield as another section of ceiling gives way. “Can you feel her through your new bond? Can you reach her?”

Dante closes his eyes, his face tightening with concentration. “It’s chaotic.”

I scan the chamber desperately, looking for any weakness, any way out. The symbols on the stone table still glow faintly, responding to Gaida’s blood even though she’s unconscious.

“Blood calls to blood,” I mutter, remembering her words.

An idea forms. It’s dangerous, possibly suicidal, but it’s the only option we have left.

“Dante, I need your blood and Gaida’s on that central symbol. Together.”

He looks up sharply. “Why?”

“This chamber responds to bloodlines. Gaida activated it with hers, but she’s now linked to you through your new bond. Your combined blood might be strong enough to force the chamber to open.”

Dante doesn’t waste time arguing. He slices open his palm with a fang and then carefully reopens one of Gaida’s wounds. Cupping their mingled blood in his hand, he stretches toward the stone table.

“More,” I urge as the shield above us cracks. “We need more of both.”

As Dante collects more of their mixed blood, I feel my strength flicker. The shield shudders dangerously, allowing small fragments of stone to rain down on us. My vision blurs at the edges, darkness creeping in as I push my magick beyond its limits.

“Hurry,” I grunt.

Dante pours their combined blood onto the central symbol of the table. For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then the symbol flares with brilliant crimson light, brighter than before. The light spreads outward, racing along the intricate patterns etched into the stone.

“It’s working,” Dante breathes.

The chamber shakes, but this time it feels different. Less like collapse and more like awakening. The walls shift, ancient stone grinding against stone as new passages appear where solid rock stood moments before.

“We need to move,” I urge, my shield now barely holding together. “I can’t maintain this much longer.”

Dante gathers Gaida in his arms, cradling her limp form against his chest. Her breathing is shallow, her skin ashen where it isn’t stained with blood. She’s fighting a battle inside her mind that’s even more dangerous than the collapsing chamber around us. The soul bond tugs at me, the first sign of it in this magickally oppressive chamber. It’s only the water magick that, I’ll admit, isn’t my strongest element that is keeping us alive right now. Anything else is gone.

I stop, as I feel the enormity of what she is dealing with, and I look at Dante with more respect. “You deal with this on a daily basis?” I ask.

He nods grimly. “Every second.”

“She’s not designed for this.”

“No, so when we get out of here, I’m going to kick her arse from here to the middle of next week. She should’ve just left me.”

“She would never do that.”

“Well, you should’ve stopped her!” he roars.

If he weren’t carrying Gaida, he would’ve come for me with all fangs blazing.

“How? How the fuck was I meant to do that while trying to keep a roof over our heads and not on them. She is her own person. She will do whatever she wants, and it’s not my place to stop her.”

“Even when it does this to her.”

“She has free will.” It pains me to say it, it really does. I hate the words with every ounce of my being, but it’s a fact. To deny her that, now especially when everything is going haywire in her life, would be beyond cruel. Even now.

Dante’s face twists with frustration, but he doesn’t argue further. He knows I’m right. “Which way?” he asks instead, shifting Gaida’s weight in his arms.

I scan our options. Three new passages have opened in the walls of the chamber. One slopes upward, another appears to continue horizontally, and the third descends deeper underground.

“Up,” I decide, indicating the rising passage. “We need to get back to the surface.”

As we move toward the passage, my shield finally gives way. With a sound like a thunderous crack, the protective barrier dissolves. Chunks of ceiling rain down behind us as we dash into the new tunnel. The moment we clear the chamber, the entrance seals itself, stone flowing like liquid to close off the collapsing room.

The passage is narrow, barely wide enough for Dante to carry Gaida through. Old torches flare to life as we approach, illuminating our path with eerie blue flame that requires no fuel. The walls are covered in the same pre-Sumerian symbols as the chamber, telling a story I can only partially decipher.

“These passages pre-date the academy,” I mutter, brushing my fingers against the carvings as we hurry along. “They might even pre-date recorded history.”

“Fascinating,” Dante says dryly. “Where do they lead?”

“If we’re lucky, somewhere that isn’t collapsing.”

We continue upward, the passage gradually widening as we climb. The air grows fresher,

“How bad is she?” I ask as we navigate the dark passage, my voice rough with exhaustion.

Dante’s face is grim in the faint light cast by the glowing symbols and torches that line the walls. “Bad. Her mind is being overwhelmed by the severed bonds. She’s experiencing it all at once, without any of the natural defences that are given to empaths. She is losing her mind.”

“Can you help her? Can you take it back?”

“I don’t know how,” he says despondently. His jaw tightens with frustration. “If I could take it all back, I would. In a heartbeat.”

We continue climbing, the passage growing steeper. Dante struggles with Gaida’s weight, though he’d never admit it. He’s still weak from nearly dying, and she’s dead weight in his arms. I move to help, but he shakes his head stubbornly.

“I’ve got her,” he insists.

A tremor shakes the passage, dust and small stones raining down on us. The severance is affecting the foundations of MistHallow.

“We need to hurry,” I urge.

Gaida stirs in Dante’s arms, a low moan escaping her lips. Her eyes flutter but don’t open, her face contorting with pain. Blood continues to trickle from her nose.

“She’s getting worse,” Dante says, his voice tight with fear.

I reach out, placing my hand on her forehead. She’s burning up, her skin hot to the touch despite vampires typically running cooler, even pureblood ones. I close my eyes, sending a tendril of calming magick into her mind. It’s completely useless, unable to quell the tempest raging within her.

“There’s too much chaos in her mind,” I mutter. “I can’t reach her.”

Another convulsion rocks her body, nearly causing Dante to lose his grip. He tightens his hold, murmuring soothing words as he adjusts his hold on her.

“We need to keep moving,” I say, casting a worried glance behind us as another tremor shakes the passage. “The whole network might be coming down.”

Gaida’s eyes suddenly fly open, but there’s no recognition in them, only terror. They’re completely black, like a feral’s. She thrashes violently in Dante’s arms, a scream tearing from her throat that echoes through the narrow passage.

“Hold her!” I shout, lunging forward to help restrain her before she hurts herself or sends them both tumbling back down the steep incline.

“Gaida, it’s me,” Dante says urgently, fighting to maintain his grip as she claws at him. “It’s Dante. You’re safe.”

But there’s no indication she hears him. She’s lost in the storm of foreign emotions flooding her mind, drowning out her own identity. Her fangs are fully extended, her eyes wild with a hunger that isn’t entirely her own.

Dante closes his eyes, his face tightening with concentration. “She’s scattered. Fragmented. This isn’t all the empathic abilities; something else is going on inside her.”

A screech from the darkness in front of us, gives us pause. Dante and I exchange a worried glance.

“That didn’t sound good,” I murmur.

“You don’t fucking say,” Dante grits out, hefting Gaida into a more secure position as she struggles in his grip. Eventually, he throws her over his shoulder, fireman style and turns around. “We aren’t going that way.”

“We have no choice,” I grit out. “Going back is suicide.”

The screech comes again, closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple bodies moving rapidly through the passage ahead of us, and claws scraping against stone.

“Ferals,” Dante confirms, his nostrils flaring. “At least five of them.”

“How? How did they find us?”

“They found their queen,” Dante mutters as Gaida kicks and screams.

I curse under my breath, summoning what little water magick I have left. Blue flames dance weakly across my fingertips, barely enough to light our way, let alone fight off a pack of feral vampires.

“We’re not exactly in fighting shape here,” I mutter, glancing between Dante and Gaida, who continues to thrash and moan over his shoulder.

Dante shifts Gaida’s weight, his jaw set in determination. “We have no choice. We fight.”

The first feral rounds the corner ahead, moving with that unnatural, jerky gait that makes my skin crawl. Once a professor—Linwood from Ancient Texts—now reduced to a snarling, blood-crazed creature. Its black eyes fix on us, mouth opening to reveal extended fangs dripping with saliva.

“Lovely,” I remark, gathering my remaining strength. “Just how I wanted to die. In a prehistoric tunnel being eaten by my former professors.”

The feral lunges. I throw up a hasty shield, weaker than I’d like but enough to momentarily stagger the creature. Dante, one arm still securing Gaida, lashes out with his free hand, catching a feral across the jaw. The impact sends the feral crashing into the wall, but it recovers quickly, snarling with renewed rage.

More ferals appear behind the first, their movements erratic and hungry. The confined space of the tunnel works both for and against us. They can only come at us one or two at a time, but we have nowhere to retreat.

“This is getting old,” I growl, summoning the last dregs of my magick. Blue shadows coalesce around my hands, solidifying into twin blades of pure ice. They won’t last long, but they might buy us enough time.

Dante shifts Gaida so she’s cradled against his chest again. Her struggles have weakened, which worries me more than her fighting. She’s fading.

“Take her,” Dante says suddenly, thrusting Gaida toward me. “I’ll hold them off.”

“You’re not fully recovered?—“

“And you’re nearly drained of magick,” he counters. “I can move faster without her. Take her.”

I hesitate, torn between logic and loyalty. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“I’m not asking you to run, I’m asking you to take her so my hands are free.”

“Fair enough,” I mutter, and take Gaida from him. She is burning hot against me.

Dante turns to face the approaching ferals, his stance widening as he prepares for a fight. His fangs extend fully, eyes darkening with predatory focus. He is back to full strength, while I’m barely hanging on and Gaida is… turning feral? Although that’s impossible because she has no sire bond, maybe her empathic abilities are manifesting in different ways… possibly taking on the state of those around her. That means she could potentially take on my magick if I can get her to refocus on me and not on the ferals. But how? The soul bond is a weak flutter, it’s not enough.

I’m distracted as a feral lunges at Dante. He sidesteps with grace, grabbing the creature by the throat and slamming it into the wall with enough force to crack the stone. Then two more ferals attack simultaneously. Dante catches one by the arm, using its momentum to hurl it into its companion. They tumble back, momentarily tangled.

“Not bad for someone who was practically dead ten minutes ago,” I comment, my ice blades at the ready as I position myself to somehow reach Gaida.

“Blood bond,” Dante grunts, ducking under a wild swing from another feral. “Her blood is fucking powerful.”

“Hold them until I can reach Gaida. I’ve got a plan.”

“Hurry,” Dante grunts, pulling out the stake from the back of his pants that he stole from Blackthorn. “I don’t want to have to kill them.”

“Noted,” I mutter and place Gaida on the ground. Pressing my hands to her temples, I close my eyes and summon the soul bond that is lurking, trying its best to reach her, to save her. Somehow, I have to get her to focus on me, to take on my state, my magick. I need a memory that is volatile, that will cause a reaction from her.

My parents’ deaths.

Seeing them in that magickal explosion…

I close my eyes, focusing on the soul bond and the memory of my parents’ final moments.

It’s not something I share, not something I ever want to relive, but right now, it might be the only thing strong enough to cut through the chaos in Gaida’s mind.

The explosion that took my parents wasn’t just any magickal accident. It was catastrophic, a convergence of dark and light magick that should never have interacted. I was ten years old, watching from the doorway as they worked on a particularly complex spell.

I remember the exact moment it went wrong, the sudden shift in the air, the way my mother’s eyes widened in realisation seconds before my father pushed her toward me, shouting for me to run. I didn’t run. I couldn’t move. The explosion engulfed them both in swirling colours of magick so intense that it burned the image permanently into my retinas.

I push this memory through our tenuous soul bond, not just the images but the raw, unprocessed emotion that I’ve kept locked away for years. The grief, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of abandonment. The rage that followed, the dark comfort I found in forbidden magickal texts, seeking power to ensure I’d never feel that helpless again.

“Feel me, Gaida,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. “Not them. Me.”

The memory won’t leave me now. It’s on repeat. Showing me the horrific scene time after time. The backlash of the explosion as it rushes towards me…

My eyes fly open.

It engulfed me. The explosion engulfed me, and I lived while they died.

That shouldn’t be possible. No one survives that kind of raw magickal energy. Yet somehow, I did.

I survived because... because why? Something protected me?

Gaida’s eyes flash open, no longer completely black. Flecks of her natural blue fight through the darkness.

“Felix?” she croaks.

“I’m here,” I say, relief flooding through me. “Focus on me, Gaida. Only me.”

Her hand shoots up, cupping my face with surprising strength. The instant our skin touches, an overwhelming surge of power courses through me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. A barrier shatters between us, unleashing a torrent of energy as the soul bond ignites with a blinding, radiant intensity.

My magick responds instantly, my dark magick. Black flames erupt across my skin, dancing between us like living creatures. But they don’t burn either of us. Instead, they sink into Gaida’s flesh, spreading through her veins in glowing rivers of black light.

“What’s happening back there?” Dante shouts, still fighting off the ferals.

I can’t answer. I’m caught in whatever is happening between Gaida and me. Her eyes glow blue now, the same shade as my true magick. The Thorn magick. I feel her consciousness brushing against mine, no longer scattered but focused, laser-sharp.

My magick flows into her, and something of hers flows back into me, something aeons old and powerful that tastes like copper and starlight.

“Felix,” she gasps, her voice stronger now. “I can see...”

A blast of pure energy erupts from her body, throwing me backwards against the tunnel wall. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs, but I barely notice the pain. I’m transfixed by what’s happening to Gaida.

She rises to her feet, dark magick— my magick—swirling around her in tendrils of midnight flame. But it’s changed somehow, transformed by whatever power resides within her. The ferals freeze, their snarls dying in their throats as they sense the shift in power.

“Dante, move!” I shout, scrambling to my feet.

He doesn’t hesitate, diving to the side just as Gaida raises her hands. Twin columns of black fire erupt from her palms, engulfing the ferals in dancing flames that don’t burn their flesh but seem to burn something inside them. Their screams echo through the tunnel, agonised yet somehow relieved.

The black in their eyes recedes, replaced by their natural colours. Their movements become less jerky, more controlled. The flames disappear, leaving the former ferals swaying on their feet, disoriented but no longer feral.

“She healed them,” Dante whispers, staring in awe. “How is that possible?”

I shake my head, struggling to understand what we’ve just witnessed. “She channelled my magick. But she transformed it somehow.”

Gaida sways on her feet, the dark energy still flickering around her fingers. Her eyes gradually return to normal, the glow fading as she blinks in confusion. She looks at the former ferals, who are now leaning against the tunnel walls, dazed but clearly no longer mindless predators.

“What did you do?” Dante asks, moving cautiously toward her. “Did you return their bonds with your bare hands?”

Gaida looks at her hands, watching as the last traces of black flame dissipate. “I could feel them—all of them. Their confusion, their pain.” She touches her temple gingerly. “It’s still there, but muted now. Like I’ve found a way to filter it.”

I gulp, and Dante lets out a hiss. They are still feral, still without bonds. Gaida just took on their inhumanity, which means…

We both look back at her worry flooding the space between us.