Page 3 of Blood Sings (Beyond the Gloom #1)

The world was ending, and we had no idea.

A cool breeze kissed the back of my neck, and I paused, inhaling deeply as the metallic door sealed shut behind me, confining me in the command room. The space stretched out before me—a perfect square, fifteen feet in each direction, with a high ceiling looming overhead.

My skin prickled as I took in the vast emptiness.

Invisible fingers seemed to tighten around my throat, squeezing in tandem with the room’s oppressive silence.

Far beneath Corvin Palace, I had nothing to fear. But I tugged at my collar, exhaling sharply. This was my domain, my sanctuary. The fortress, once my coven’s stronghold during Father’s reign, now buzzed as the nerve center for the Crowned Republic of Transylvania’s military might.

I was safe. The Sparrows were not.

The lives of my outliers hung in the balance of tonight’s mission.

My heels echoed against the concrete slab as I moved further into the room. Light from six overhead tubes reflected on the white-tiled walls, which were veined with whispers of green and black, lending the room an almost—but not quite—austere elegance.

A cloying scent of cherry and almond assaulted my senses, my nose wrinkling in disgust. I rolled my eyes without Mother here to scold me. That was when I noticed it.

There, perched on the glossy corner of my desk, sat another ‘gift’ from Lev Wurdulak.

Fury and agony built at the sight. I screamed into the walls.

The box, decorated with intricate chip carvings, dredged up memories I’d fought to bury.

Lev and I had been groomed to rule together since our fangs first broke through. That future had shattered the day his family orchestrated my coven’s downfall, while my father’s ashes still smoldered on the battlefield.

He’d stolen my crown, my birthright—and one day, I would challenge him for my throne, when I was ready, when I grew into my power. One day, it would all be mine to set right.

Acid burned in my throat as I pried open the box. A vial of his blood glimmered like liquid rubies, taunting me. My fingers curled around it, arm tensed and ready to shatter the glass… but I hesitated.

The satisfaction wasn’t worth the mess.

When would he understand I wanted nothing to do with him? Five decades of silence, and still he persisted. Even Mother’s meddling couldn’t excuse his obsession.

We had both changed. Those childhood promises of ‘forever’?

They were nothing but fading echoes now.

With a flick of my wrist, I sent the box tumbling into the waste bin. The vial clattered after it, unbroken and dulled in the shadows of the bin.

Good riddance.

Closing my eyes, I willed my racing heart to slow and took my seat. One… two… three…

The reclining chair cradled me as I shifted my focus to what truly mattered.

The mission was routine, simple: keep the Ninth Ward safe, improve attack strategies, gather Stalker intel, alert the captain of incoming strikes. Nothing new, nothing shocking. Just the backdrop to every breath I’d ever taken.

War wasn’t just what I did. It was who I was. It was woven into the fabric of my existence, as constant as my heartbeat. Peace? That was the fairy tale. This endless cycle of strategy, combat, and survival? That was my reality.

So yes, today was just another Tuesday. Because in my world, every day was a battle, and that was how it had always been.

I twisted my mane of thick, jet-black waves over my shoulder, breathing in the sharp tang of chemicals and disinfectants, and activated the Bloodthorn Nexus at my nape. It unfurled like a blossoming flower, ready to bridge my mind with the outliers on the front lines.

The needle’s sting made me grit my teeth.

Underworld’s balls. I hated this part.

A few agonizing seconds passed as microscopic tendrils burrowed into my cerebellum. Then, blessed relief. Tiny electric tingles danced across my skin, followed by a surge of clarity that sharpened the world to a razor’s edge.

Now, this? Worth every second.

I flexed my fingers and spoke into the hushed room. “Initiate Harmonization. Projector Aurora Tepes, Commanding Control Officer, Western Front’s Ninth Ward, Third Defensive Guild. Set Harmonization target, Outlier Stoneheart.”

The Nexus hummed against my skin as Stoneheart’s consciousness flooded my mind—crisp and clean. It tasted just like his blood sample at the Initiation eight years ago, like mint leaves and green tea.

With a sudden, violent jolt that resonated through my skull and made my teeth ache, our mental link snapped into place. Screens flickered to life around me, pouring a stream of battlefield data: colorful maps, frenzied movement charts, and scrolling environmental readings.

Ninety neon green stars winked on the central display—my Sparrows and two other guilds. The Stalkers’ red dots swarmed like angry fireflies, far too abundant for comfort.

My pulse quickened despite my best efforts to regain control.

“Projector Tepes to Stoneheart. Confirm Harmonization,” I said, proud of how steady I kept my voice.

“Stoneheart to Projector Tepes. Harmonization complete. I read you loud and clear.” His voice, cool and composed, carried that sharp edge typical of mature young men.

The captain, bearing the title in name only, was two decades my senior. Originally human, he endured the Change in his early twenties, well before the war. He had also forgone the mortal world for night and blood—and the benefits of becoming a mixed-breed citizen. Now, his service was part of an agreement to reclaim civil rights for himself and his family.

“Good evening, Stoneheart,” I said. “I look forward to working with you today.”

“Your enthusiasm warms my halfblooded heart, Projector.”

His words sliced through me, pouring acid over old wounds.

Guilt crashed into me. Hot. Suffocating.

I stiffened, fighting to keep my resolve and not say something that would trigger his ire again. Our discussions seldom ended on a friendly tone.

The Republic’s views on mixed-breeds were archaic, plain and simple. I’d seen their potential firsthand, worked alongside them for almost my entire life. They were anything but inferior. But nothing I said erased what we did to them.

With effort, I pushed his casual cruelty aside and tapped into my magic. Our shared consciousness expanded, mapping Stoneheart’s surroundings. Through him, my Blood Manipulation stretched over a mile in every direction, particularly adept at sniffing out mortals, especially Stalkers.

It didn’t take long to find them.

The Stalkers stood out like oil slicks on water, their dark, viscous outlines unmistakable blots of corruption among the outliers’ soft blue auras.

A century of war, and I still couldn’t believe Russkaya had stooped so low. It was a nation without a moral compass. Inoculating allies with immortal blood, forcing the Change upon them—it turned my stomach. Our tests had found traces of human, iele, varva, and balaur DNA in Stalker blood, but never varcolac. Never their own.

Cowards.

They disregarded the sanctity of life so casually. Not that we hadn’t wronged in the past—forefather Aurelius’s transgression against Solanthia millennia ago was a dark stain on our history. But the varcolacs had crossed a line.

Using innocent people as pawns in their war…

The irony twisted like a knife in my gut. Weren’t we doing the same? Exiling mixed-breeds beyond our borders to fight our battles?

Releasing a strangled breath, I opened the Harmonization link with the whole guild, only to slam into a wall of anxiety. “I’ve intercepted the enemy forces half a mile to the east,” I reported. “Confirming a mixed battalion-size of Limuses and Glacies. At least eighty each.”

Silence stretched, thick and heavy.

“Acknowledged, Projector Tepes,” Stoneheart’s voice crackled through, taut as a bowstring. “I can see them from here. Stand by.”

Gunfire erupted; thunderous, even through our linked-hearing sense. I sensed projectiles whizzing past him, fear and desperation flooding my mind. One stray bullet could end him—mixed-breed or not, he wasn’t truly immortal.

“Stoneheart to the Sparrows! Quiet your movements.” His orders rang sharp and clear. “Remember, the Limuses detect vibrations through the ground. Engage from a distance!”

“Enemy to your right! In the mist!” Blaze’s foghorn voice pierced my skull. “Fire now!” The vice-captain, a balaur female, was only a few months away from finishing her conscription.

“Blaze! Use your flames! I’ll cover you,” Stoneheart commanded. “Everyone else, stick to rifles. No magic—I won’t have you collapsing in battle.”

The ground rumbled as Stoneheart’s magic surged.

Limuses snarled and clawed against his bulwark, their fury reverberating in my head. I couldn’t see them now, but their razor-sharp claws and needle-like teeth had plagued my nightmares for years.

His breathing grew ragged with the effort of maintaining the shield. “We need to move,” he gasped. “Blaze, can you clear a path?”

“On it. But run like hell. I’m running on fumes here.”

Footsteps crunched as Blaze approached. With a roar, she unleashed a jet of fire that lived up to her name, engulfing the Limuses until their howls dissolved into the night.

But more were coming. Fast.

Stoneheart dropped the wall and bolted for the forest, the Sparrows on his heels. The other guilds held positions and engaged the enemy.

“Projector,” Stoneheart panted, jolting me. “Didn’t you say mixed battalion?”

My eyes snapped to the screen. The Glacies blips hadn’t moved.

Why aren’t they attacking?

A bone-chilling growl ripped through the link. Blaze’s cry for help twisted my insides. Limuses had cut her off, herding outliers from the other guilds toward her like cattle to slaughter.

My heart slammed against my ribs, the room tilting. This was all wrong.

“Blaze down!” a desperate voice cut through the chaos. “Captain, I can use my water magic. I can save her!” Ripple, a varva with unreliable power, was already racing to Blaze’s aid.

Stoneheart’s command thundered through my skull. “Ripple, stand down! You’re outmatched!”

I agreed. He wasn’t wrong. A dozen more red blips converged on the vice-captain’s position, with more in pursuit. It was the right tactical move.

“No. I can save her. I can save her.”

Stoneheart demanded, “Stand down!”

Ripple’s blood-curdling scream tore through my mind. White-hot agony lanced through our blood connection, followed immediately by Blaze’s anguished cry. “I’m sorry, guys… This is it for me. It’s been an honor—”

I hissed through pursed lips, desperately trying to maintain our links.

“Stoneheart to Blaze! Hold—hold on! I’m coming!” The captain’s voice broke with desperation. “Cyclone, with me!”

Darting my eyes on the screen, I searched for Ripple’s location. His silence was deafening.

The ground roared and cracked open with Stoneheart’s effort to keep the Limuses away from his guildmates, but too many had joined the horde.

Blaze and Ripple’s signals winked out, followed by half a dozen more from the other guilds.

Gunfire faded to silence. Deathly silence. The type only heard on battlefields and the land where life was laid to rest for eternity.

In the distance, Limuses howled, drunk on bloodlust. Even in my room’s safety, fear slammed into me, locking my knees and straining my muscles.

Stoneheart tumbled to the ground, a string of curses spilling out of his mouth. The sound freed me from the silence as he scrambled to his feet and bolted for the treeline.

An alarm blared, and only by the mercy of Mighty Derzelas, our Dark Father and God of the Underworld, did I not crash to the floor. I spun back to the screens and gasped.

Eight neon green stars streaked in from the north, a perfect V formation.

Is t-that… Another guild coming to our aid?

The irregular angle of their approach signaled tactical strike—not rescue, but ambush. Every instinct told me they were hunting, their formation designed to hem in and trap the Stalkers from multiple angles. These weren’t reinforcements. Their stars on the map moved with a cold, calculated precision that suggested this wasn’t their first raid.

No one in their right mind would stroll on Stalker-infested land, let alone join a battle without their commanding officer to oversee their perimeter and strategy.

On the other half of the screen, the once-static enemy blips stirred to life. The idle Glacies shuffled, reorganizing into neat rows. But they held position, as if waiting for… something.

What in the Underworld is going on?

“Stoneheart, friendlies should enter your line of sight in three, two—”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” He huffed. “Projector Tepes, that’s Captain Harbinger from the Tenth Ward. On patrol.”

Some patrol. But Stoneheart’s relief was palpable, and we needed all the help we could get.

“Regroup. Focus on the Limuses,” I ordered. “Harbinger’s team is moving to engage the Glacies. Provide support when you can.”

“Copy that, Projector. Stand by.”

My heart sped as I yanked open my desk drawer, eyeing the silver box within. I needed eyes on the battlefield. No time for hesitation. I pressed my thumb to the lock.

The lid sprung open with a quiet electronic hiss. The Astral Visor lay nestled on black velvet, my fingertips tingling with anticipation as I lifted it.

“Stoneheart, status report,” I commanded, securing the device around my head. In the screen’s reflection, I glimpsed neon blue lights flickering along the band’s edges. A soft beat pulsed through it as it sought connection to my Nexus.

“Visibility zero, Projector,” Stoneheart’s voice buzzed in my ear. “Mist‘s thicker than pea soup. We’ve lost visual on friendlies and hostiles alike.”

The holographic screen dropped over my right eye, battlefield data materializing even as adrenaline flooded my system. “Open Transpectre via Stoneheart,” I projected to the Visor, my mind already racing through strategy. We needed to coordinate our forces—fast.

The ticking ceased, and in an instant, I was there. Thrust into the nightmare, hundreds of miles away.

Moonlight bathed the battlefield in silver, casting an eerie glow over the blood-soaked grass. Wisps of ivory mist—no, sand particles—swirled skyward, forming a thick curtain that obscured the combat going on in the background. Blood pooled among eviscerated bodies, a crimson tide.

I pushed past the vomit bubbling in my throat. “Sweet Derzelas!” I gasped.

Stoneheart’s gaze snapped to the right, scanning over the charred Limuses. Something more sinister stirred within the mist.

My breath stuck in my windpipe and remained there, heavy as a rock.

From the swirling, opaque fog, monstrous creatures emerged, their gray skin stretched taut over bone crests that jutted sharply from their spines. They charged the First Defensive Guild, magic cranked to maximum as sand exploded from the earth, muffling their thunderous approach. Gaunt and sinewy as hellhounds, they leaped, tearing through the outliers with savage glee.

Rifles choked. Elemental magic fizzled and died. A jet of water hung suspended before gravity reclaimed it, splattering into crimson puddles.

The hellhounds emerged from all sides, encircling the Second Defensive Guild.

Arterial spray painted the air red.

Terror clawed at me, begging me to sever the connection and flee. But I couldn’t look away.

I had to see. To witness.

Stoneheart drew a ragged breath, summoning the dregs of his magic. His heart stuttered, a desperate rhythm pumping life into his exhausted muscles. The earth trembled beneath his command, a six-foot shield rising to guard the survivors.

Battle cries echoed like distant thunder beyond the sandy veil.

I glanced at my desktop screen, seeking Harbinger’s guild. Eight green stars in a sea of scarlet, they looked like a tiny boat struggling against raging waves as they engaged the Glacies on the hill.

Stoneheart’s pulse spiked, and I refocused on the Astral Visor’s holo-screen.

A creature stared back at me, its bloodshot eyes glowing in the moonlight.

The captain bit down hard, a curse escaping his lips. The hellhound dropped to the ground, then rose on its hind legs. Another emerged from the mist. Then another. And another. Stoneheart stood a hundred yards away.

That meant that the Limuses were… the size of a large technical supply crate.

“Stoneheart to Cyclone,” he barked. “Take flight and blast them with a Shockwave!”

“On my way, Cap!” the iele replied.

“Cyclone, halt! Hold your ground!” the words exploded from me, frantic.

Cyclone froze mid-crouch, my command halting him like a statue. The iele’s lithe frame tensed, dark hair whipping about his shoulders. His midnight-black wings, now fully extended, cast imposing shadows across the battlefield. Every muscle tensed, each fiber coiled tight, as if poised to unleash a burst of powerful movement with the slightest provocation.

All children of Sabazios, God of the Sky, bore the gift of flight and the magic of zephyrs. But Cyclone’s powers were limited.

“Stoneheart,” I addressed the captain. “A Shockwave will drain him. I can’t let you sacrifice him. Turn back, regroup.”

“Easy for you to give orders from your cozy little room, Projector.” His response rumbled with defiance. “But I’m the one with boots on the ground, and I’m calling the shots here. Cyclone, await my signal.”

Remorse and anger warred for first place inside my body. “Cyclone, I’m your commanding officer. Stand down!”

The image bobbed with Stoneheart’s curt nod, and Cyclone vanished in a blur of beating wings.

My throat tightened. “Goddammit, Stoneheart!” I slammed my fist against the armrest, frustration boiling over. Not again.

“Now!” Stoneheart’s command thundered, and the sky answered with a deafening roar.

Trees splintered as a massive fist of air dropped from the heavens, shattering the earth and hurling Limuses skyward. Their bodies disintegrated on impact and rained gore across the field.

In the blast’s wake, Cyclone’s limp silhouette plummeted like a dark arrow.

My heart leaped to my throat. I’d told him this would happen.

“Stoneheart!” I cried out, silently counting the seconds until impact.

My stomach cramped, as if someone was wringing the blood out of me. The room spun, my suit suddenly too tight, suffocating. A migraine burst behind my eyes, and I rubbed at my temples, willing it to go away.

I should never have opened that damn drawer.

“I’ve got him!” Stoneheart snapped, barking orders to the remaining Sparrows. “Aqua and Inferno, split into teams, secure the flanks. Breeze, handle the remaining vanguard!”

Dropping to his knee, he slammed his palms into the earth, fingers spread wide, nails digging in. A pillar of compressed soil shot up, nine feet high. It broke Cyclone’s fall, but the ghastly crunch of bone made me wince.

At least his unconsciousness had spared him.

Stoneheart collapsed, staring at the star-strewn sky with half-lidded eyes.

I sank into my chair, sighing heavily. Past battles had taught me that although he wasn’t knocked out, he wouldn’t make it back to base without help.

Assessing the enemy numbers, I checked the main screen.

Then my breath caught, and my spine straightened.

“Stoneheart, do you read?” I gasped, double-checking the stats to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. The crimson blips representing the Glacies had dropped to less than half. “Harbinger did it. The Stalkers are retreating north.”

His eyelids drooped, and I was selfish enough to wish they hadn’t so I could have another glimpse at the unspoiled night sky above him.

“Acknowledged,” he rasped. “That’s Harbinger for you. He comes in, gets the job done, and disappears. Without him, you’d have no guild left to see us squabble through your little mind trick.”

Tears stung my eyes, and a sob escaped despite my clenched jaw. Stoneheart was right. I was immortal, safe, while they bled and died.

“Projector Tepes to the Sparrows. The enemy has retreated. Second Guild will take over patrol duties. Please… return to base.” My voice cracked. I dug my nails into my palm, letting the pain wash away my guilt. “You did well today. For those we lost… I’m so, so sorry.”

Silence filled the Harmonization, broken by Stoneheart’s icy contempt. “We’re ever so grateful for your kind words, Projector Tepes.”

With a final exertion of strength, he pushed himself upright, taking one last, lingering look at the carnage that lay before him. Moonlight glinted off spilled entrails and mangled corpses. Sand had settled but still swarmed the air.

He spat, and I could almost taste his disgust.

Unable to withstand the sight any longer, I severed the link and ripped the Astral Visor from my head. Tears streamed down my face, haunted by Blaze’s last words replaying in my thoughts.

‘I’m sorry, guys… This is it for me. It’s been an honor—’