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GAIDA

I feel strange. Different. Like I’ve been broken apart and reassembled slightly wrong, with pieces of other people mixed in. My head still throbs with the empathic burden I took from Dante, but it’s no longer overwhelming me. Instead, it’s like I’ve found a way to compartmentalise it, to push it to the edges of my consciousness where it hums like background noise. There is another presence in my soul, and I glance at Felix. It’s him. His soul. His magick. He is saving me.

“Gaida?” Dante approaches me cautiously, his eyes searching mine. “Are you... You?”

It’s a fair question. Am I me? I’m not entirely sure anymore.

“I think so,” I say, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. “But also more.”

The former ferals stare at me with expressions of confusion. They should be trying to tear our throats out, but instead, they’re just standing there, waiting. For what?

For me, I realise with a chill. They’re waiting for me to tell them what to do.

Felix gives me a look of absolute love and awe, and I smile shakily. “You channelled my magick somehow. Through our soul bond.”

“Not just channelled it, I have it. It’s saving me,” I whisper.

“How?” he asks, coming closer.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I say, trying to find the right words. “It’s like your magick is creating a shield between me and all these emotions. It’s sorting them, containing them.”

I glance at the former ferals again. They’re still watching me, their eyes clear but vacant, like they’re waiting for instructions. I can feel their presence in my mind, dozens of thin threads connecting them to me.

“I think I’m holding them,” I whisper.

Dante grunts. “Are they bound to you?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Felix approaches one of the former ferals and waves his hand in front of the man’s blank face. “They’re docile. Not healed, just redirected.”

“To me,” I say. “I’ve taken their feral nature into myself, but Felix’s magick is containing it.”

A tremor shakes the tunnel, reminding us that we’re still in danger.

“We need to keep moving,” Dante says, taking my hand. “Can you control them?”

I close my eyes, feeling for the threads that connect these vampires to me. They’re not true bonds. They’re fragile, temporary, but they respond when I focus on them.

“I think so,” I murmur. Opening my eyes, I look at the vacant-faced vampires. “Follow us. Stay quiet. Attack nothing.”

They nod in unison, the movement mechanical but immediate. It’s disturbing how readily they obey.

“We need to get out of here,” I mumble.

The tunnel continues upward, growing wider as we climb. I can sense more ferals above us, their wild emotions pressing against Felix’s magickal shield in my mind. With each step, I feel stronger, more in control of the strange mix of abilities now coursing through me.

“Are you okay? Do you feel different?” I ask Dante as we climb. “Since our blood bond?”

He glances at me, his expression guarded. “I can sense you more clearly. Your emotions, your presence. It shouldn’t be possible with a pureblood, so it’s new, interesting.” His jaw tightens. “I can also feel how my empathic burden is affecting you. You shouldn’t have done it, Gaida.”

“You were dying.”

“And you nearly followed me,” he retorts sharply. “That wasn’t your burden to bear.”

“It wasn’t yours either,” I snap back. “None of this is anyone’s fault, but we deal with what we have. I couldn’t leave you.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, his expression softening slightly. “I would have done the same for you.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “That’s why I did it.”

Another tremor shakes the tunnel, stronger than the last.

“We need to move faster,” Felix urges, glancing nervously at the ceiling. “This whole network is becoming unstable.”

I nod, turning to our strange entourage. “Move quickly,” I command, and immediately they pick up their pace, their movements becoming more fluid, less mechanical.

The tunnel begins to level out, and I sense we’re nearing the surface. The emotional chaos pressing against my mind grows stronger, indicating more ferals above. But with Felix’s magick creating a barrier, I can process it without being overwhelmed.

The tunnel opens into a larger chamber that is all indoor lake and no path or bridge to help us across.

“What now?” I ask. “Turn back?”

“We aren’t going back that way,” Felix states. “We go through.”

“Through?” I shiver at the thought of plunging into those murky depths. “We don’t know what’s in there.”

“True, but we know what’s behind us. A pile of rocks,” Dante says.

“Fair point,” I mutter and move closer. “So we just… go for a swim. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Felix and Dante groan. “You didn’t just say that!”

“Sorry,” I mutter and wade into the water, boots, clothes and all. My little creepy band of ex-feral ferals follow me.

The water is freezing and somehow thicker than normal water.

It clings to my legs, dragging at my movements like it’s trying to pull me under.

“It’s not normal water,” I call back to the others. “Be careful.”

Felix reaches the water’s edge and stops, his expression suddenly wary. “This is an old protection spell. The water will test us.”

“Test us how?” Dante asks, already ankle-deep beside me.

“It will show us our deepest fears, try to make us turn back,” Felix explains, hesitating before stepping in. The moment his boot touches the surface, the water around him darkens to ink-black. “Don’t let go of each other. Whatever you see isn’t real.”

I reach back and grasp Dante’s hand tightly, then extend my other hand to Felix. “Stay together,” I command, and my little army of former ferals form a chain behind us.

The water rises to my waist, its cold seeping into my bones. The surface shimmers, reflecting scenes that shouldn’t be possible. Memories, fears, possibilities.

I see myself surrounded by kneeling vampires, thousands of them, their eyes fixed on me with that same vacant adoration I saw in the ferals behind me. In my hand, the sword of Mashtar glows with unholy light, and beside me stands my father, the chalice raised in triumph. I’m wearing a crown of blood and bone, my eyes completely black.

“Not real,” I mutter, forcing myself to keep moving forward. “It’s just showing us what we fear.”

Beside me, Dante stiffens. I glance at him and see his eyes fixed on something beneath the surface that I can’t see. His grip on my hand tightens painfully.

“Dante,” I say firmly. “It’s not real.”

He blinks rapidly, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold water. “I know,” he grinds out. “But it feels real.”

On my other side, Felix’s breathing has become laboured. The water around him churns and darkens, responding to whatever nightmare he’s witnessing.

“Keep moving,” I urge them both, tugging them forward. “Don’t focus on what you’re seeing.”

The water deepens quickly, soon reaching my chest. Its chill seeps into my soul, making my teeth chatter. But worse than the cold is the vision that continues to unfold before me. I see myself becoming the thing I don’t want.

The Blood Queen.

“It’s showing us what could be, not what will be,” I say, as much to convince myself as them.

The water rises to my shoulders now, and I have to tilt my head back to keep my face above the surface. The former ferals follow silently, their expressionless faces the only part of them still visible as they wade through the enchanted lake.

“We’re almost halfway,” Felix says, his voice strained. “Don’t stop, whatever happens.”

My vision shifts again, showing me Luke, his body broken and bloodied, the sword still clutched in his dying hand. My father stands over him, triumph gleaming in his eyes as he reaches for the weapon. Behind them, Dante and Felix lie motionless on the ground.

“Not real,” I whisper again, though my voice catches. “He can’t touch it. Keep moving.”

The water suddenly drops away beneath my feet. I plunge under the surface, forcing me to let go of Dante and Felix. The cold is shocking, stealing my breath as we’re fully submerged. Beneath the water, the visions intensify, becoming more vivid, more convincing.

I see myself sitting on a throne of thorns, with Luke kneeling before me, his eyes vacant like the ferals I now command. My father stands behind the throne, one hand on my shoulder, the chalice raised high in the other. Dante and Felix are among the kneeling masses, their spirits broken, merely puppets dancing on my strings.

The vision is so complete, so convincing that for a moment I believe it. This is my destiny. This is what I was born for. To rule. To command. To become the Blood Queen.

No.

I kick hard, fighting against the enchanted water’s pull. My lungs burn for air, but I refuse to surrender to the vision. This is not who I am. This is not who I will become.

My hand brushes against something solid. Dante. I grab hold of him, pulling him toward me. Through the murky water, I see his eyes wide with horror at whatever nightmare the lake is showing him. I reach for Felix with my other hand, feeling the soul bond pulse between us as our fingers connect.

With a powerful kick, I propel us upward, dragging them both with me. We break the surface, gasping, the cold air is a blessed relief after the suffocating visions below.

“Keep going,” I splutter, spitting out water.

The former ferals surface around us, their faces still blank but their movements more coordinated now, as if they’re adapting to their temporary connection to me. They form a protective circle around us as we continue swimming.

The water gradually becomes shallower, the visions less intense as we near the opposite shore. When my feet finally touch solid ground again, relief floods through me. We wade out of the enchanted lake, water streaming from our clothes, our little army of former ferals following dutifully around us.

“That was...” Dante shakes his head, unable to find the right words.

“Horrific,” Felix finishes for him, wringing water from his shirt. “Those visions...”

“They weren’t real,” I say firmly, though the images still linger in my mind. “Just possibilities, not certainties.”

“Some possibilities should stay buried,” Dante mutters, running a hand through his soaked hair.

I don’t disagree. The vision of myself as the Blood Queen, ruling over a world of mindless vampire slaves, was horrifyingly vivid. Is that really what awaits me if I fail to resist the pull of the sword? The thought makes me shudder.

Another tremor shakes the chamber, stronger than any before. Chunks of stone splash into the lake behind us.

“We need to keep moving,” Felix urges, pointing to a passage leading upward from the lake chamber. “That should take us to the surface.”

“Should, but something tells me we are nowhere near it yet,” I mutter.

I lead our strange procession into the new passage, which slopes upward at a steep angle. The stone here is different from the previous tunnels, smoother, almost polished, with intricate carvings that seem to shift and change when viewed from different angles.

“These are protection runes,” Felix says, running his fingers along the wall. “Ancient ones. I’ve only seen drawings of them in forbidden texts.”

“Forbidden by whom?” I ask, my boots squelching with each step.

“Everyone,” he replies grimly. “These are from before the separation of magickal disciplines. When dark and light were one.”

Dante moves closer to me, his hand finding mine in the dim light. “How are you holding up?”

I consider the question carefully. The chaos of emotions still presses against my mind, but Felix’s magick creates a barrier that makes it manageable. “I can still hear it, but it’s muffled.”

“And the ferals?” He gestures to our silent followers.

I glance back at the vacant-eyed vampires trailing behind us. “They’re there too. In my head. Like ghosts waiting for something.”

“For what?” Felix asks.

“For their bonds to be restored,” I murmur, the realisation coming to me as I speak. “They’re not truly bound to me. I’m just holding their place.”

A loud crash echoes from somewhere ahead, followed by shouts and the unmistakable sound of fighting. We freeze, listening intently.

“That’s coming from above us,” Dante whispers, his eyes darkening slightly as he extends his senses. “More ferals. A lot of them.”

I reach out with my newly enhanced awareness, feeling the chaotic swirl of emotions ahead. But there’s a familiar presence that makes my heart skip.

“Luke,” I breathe. “He’s up there, and he’s in trouble. We need to hurry.”

The passage steepens, turning into a near-vertical climb in places. I scramble upward, using jutting stones as handholds, my former-feral entourage following with eerie precision. Their coordination is improving the longer they remain connected to me, their movements becoming more fluid, almost natural.

“They’re adapting,” Dante notes, watching them with a mixture of fascination and unease.

“It’s like they’re learning from me,” I say. “Through whatever connection we have.”

“That’s concerning,” Felix mutters, pulling himself up beside us.

“Let’s just focus on getting out of here,” I say. “We can deal with that later.”

If there is a later.