Page 2

Another building collapses in a shower of embers, sending a fresh plume of smoke into the night sky. In the east, the faintest lightening of the horizon warns of approaching dawn.

“You should find shelter,” I tell Damon, not looking at him. “The sun will rise soon.”

“And you?”

“I’ll stay a while longer.”

Damon studies me, his green eyes assessing whether I might defy his orders once he’s gone.

Finally, he sighs. “Don’t do anything foolish, Amari.

Remember what King Amir said: ‘To interfere with human affairs is to bind yourself to human suffering.’ We’ve seen enough suffering to know the wisdom in those words. ”

“I remember.”

Damon stays with me for hours more, until the fires begin to burn lower and the eastern sky lightens perceptibly. Then he squeezes my shoulder once—the closest thing to comfort he’s capable of offering—and disappears into the shadows to find shelter from the approaching day.

I remain, watching until the sun crests the horizon.

The daylight doesn’t harm me as the old legends claim, but it highlights what I’ve become.

The veins beneath my dark skin become more visible in sunlight, my fangs harder to conceal, my golden eyes too bright, too inhuman. The sun doesn’t burn me—it exposes me.

Most vampires retreat during daylight hours. It’s not just self-preservation; it’s the natural rhythm of our existence. But today, I need to see the aftermath in the harsh light of day. I need to remember.

The great city of Granada, the last stronghold of Moorish Spain, lies in smoldering ruins. Eight hundred years of Islamic rule on the Iberian Peninsula, ended. My civilization, gone.

In daylight, the devastation is even more complete than I imagined.

Bodies lie in the streets—scholars, merchants, craftsmen, women, children.

People I might have known in my human life, descendants of those I once called friends.

The mighty walls that withstood sieges for centuries now breached and broken.

Gardens that once bloomed with roses and citrus trees now trampled and burned.

I stand until I can stand no more, until I’ve memorized every detail of the destruction. Then I turn to leave, to follow Damon into whatever shadow he’s found to wait out the day.

That’s when I see it.

A spider perched on the trunk of an olive tree.

Not just any spider—a tarantula larger than my hand, black as midnight with bristly hairs covering its body.

Its legs are longer than any tarantula native to this region, and it moves with a fluidity that seems almost unnatural.

It’s unlike any arachnid I’ve seen in this region, and I’ve hunted these hills for centuries.

The spider watches me with an intelligence that gives me pause. I cock my head to the side, studying it. Eight eyes fix on me with an intensity that feels almost... familiar.

“Hello, little friend,” I say, approaching without fear. Humans fear spiders, but I’ve long since outgrown such mortal concerns. “This isn’t a good place for you in this hour.”

The spider doesn’t move, but I sense its attention fixed on me, assessing me as I assess it.

“Humans will see you as a threat,” I continue, feeling oddly compelled to speak to this creature. “They’ll try to kill you, as they kill everything they fear and don’t understand. Best you find a shadow to hide in.”

The tarantula shifts slightly, and I feel a strange connection to it. It seems... lost. Afraid. Out of place in this world of sun and fire and destruction.

“I know that feeling all too well,” I murmur. “I lost my people last night. Everything I once was is ash now.”

The spider descends the tree trunk, each leg moving with care. It makes its way to the ground and stops at my feet, looking up at me with what I can only describe as curiosity.

I kneel down, smiling despite myself, my fangs bared. “I’m not human, but I think you already know that, don’t you?”

To my astonishment, the spider moves in what looks unmistakably like a nod.

A chuckle escapes me, the first sound of joy I’ve made in days. “You are not a normal creature, are you? That’s interesting.”

I extend my hand, palm up, in invitation. The tarantula hesitates only a moment before crawling onto my palm. Its weight is substantial, its movement precise. It makes its way up my arm, finally settling on my shoulder like it belongs there.

The sensation should be unsettling—a massive spider resting against my neck—but instead, it feels right somehow. Like finding something I didn’t know I’d lost.

“I’ll take you with me into the shadows,” I tell it, gently patting its head with one finger. Its bristly exterior is softer than it appears. “We can find a safe place together.”

The spider nods again on my shoulder, and I feel a strange kinship with this lost creature.

“Let’s go, little friend,” I say, turning my back on Granada for the last time.

As we disappear into the shadows, away from human eyes and the revealing light of day, I don’t yet understand the significance of this encounter. I don’t know that this spider is connected to my future, to a fate I cannot yet imagine.

I only know that for the first time since I watched my civilization begin to burn, I don’t feel quite so alone.