Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

ISOLDE

Darkness.

Then, sensation. A slow, creeping awareness, like waking from a dream that’s clung too tightly.

My body aches, a deep, resonant thrum that echoes from bone to marrow.

I try to move, to open my eyes, but it’s like wading through treacle.

Where am I? The last thing I remember is…

exploding. A supernova of silver light and blood magic, Blackridge’s voice, the nexus…

My eyelids flutter open. I’m lying on cold stone, and the air smells of dust, ozone, and something ancient and metallic, like a forgotten battlefield.

Slowly, I push myself up, my muscles screaming in protest.

My body hums with an alien energy. It's the silver fire from the nexus, the whispers of a thousand spilt bloodlines, and the echoes of Blackridge's revelations, all coalesced into me.

Or whatever ‘me’ is now.

Something else entirely.

I’m not just a vampire, not just a twin, not even just a Sanguinarch. I’m more. I’m a fucking weapon forged in secrets and ancient power.

Am I a god?

I snort at the massive ego on myself. Hardly a god. A monarch, maybe. A Sanguimonarch… Is there such a thing? Has there ever been such a creature?

I feel raw, exposed, like my soul has been flayed open and rewritten in a language I’m only just beginning to comprehend. The power coursing through me is intoxicating and horrifying. It sings of creation and destruction, of life and death, all held in a delicate, impossible balance.

And I have no idea what to do with it.

“William,” I rasp. I felt him before. He was whole, he was mine . That fierce possessiveness that I have seen in CJ flares up in me, burning the brand on my chest. Those witches didn’t give me this. They can only dream of power like this, so who did?

“Welcome back,” Blackridge says, standing over me and peering down at me with those pitch-black eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m going to turn you inside out and examine your guts while you are still alive,” I spit out.

“Oh, very violent and descriptive. I see the new you is strong and well.”

“How did you know this would happen?” I ask, trying to sit up.

“I didn’t. I had a hunch. It was connected to William Harrington. I wanted to know why you, and not thousands of others over the years, could see him.”

“How did you know I could?”

“I know everything that goes on here, dear. The walls have eyes and ears.”

I take that in and gulp, my cheeks flushing slightly. All the walls? “Are we still at SilverGate?”

“Yes.”

“Is it still standing?”

“SilverGate will still stand even in the event of a realm-wide apocalypse, Miss Morvoren. This was nothing. Simply a wave of power that was focused on you and those you share a bond with. No one else has even noticed anything happened.”

Well, that’s one less thing to explain, then. “So, no one will know what I’ve become?”

“No one here thinks you are anything other than a vampire with an affinity for defensive magic. They certainly aren’t going to start putting two and two together and coming up with what you are now.”

“And what is that?”

“You tell me.”

We lock gazes. I try not to flinch, but his is unwavering, intense, creepy. I lick my lips.

“I don’t know.”

“Try,” he says.

I take a breath, focusing inward, trying to sense the changes.

The power is there, a vast, turbulent ocean, but it's still too new, too chaotic to define. No way am I admitting to feeling like a god or a monarch. He will think I’m a completely vain idiot.

Why that bothers me is anyone’s guess, but for some reason, it does.

"I feel amplified. Like all the parts of me have been cranked up to eleven, and then something else has been added to the mix. Something older. Darker."

Blackridge nods slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The nexus awakened something primal in your blood, a dormant potential that transcends conventional categories. You are, in essence, the first of your kind.”

“But what is that kind?” I whisper.

“I think you know,” he says, searching my eyes.

He knows. He knows a damn sight more than he is telling me or probably will tell me.

My mind sifts through the wreckage of who I was and the terrifying, exhilarating unknown of what I’ve become. The word Sanguinarch echoes, but it is incomplete. Like calling a tempest a strong breeze. William was alive again because of me . That’s not just Blood Magic; that’s dominion.

“Say it,” Blackridge murmurs. “Say the word on your tongue, Miss Morvoren.”

“It’s stupid,” I mutter.

“There is only us here. I will never mock anyone for wanting more power, no matter the circumstances.”

“I’m a Sanguinarch,” I say quietly, not quite a whisper.

“That’s not all, is it?”

I shake my head.

“Say the word, Miss Morvoren.”

“I don’t even know if it’s a word.”

“Doesn’t matter. Say it.”

Hesitating, I lift my chin higher and get to my feet. I stumble, but then I feel strong. Stronger than I’ve ever felt in my life. “A Sanguimonarch.”

His eyes light up, but not in a joyful way, more menacing than that, more ominous.

More creepy. “The perfect word, Miss Morvoren.” He says it with a chilling satisfaction that crawls under my skin.

His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.

“A monarch of blood. A ruler of life and death. Yes, that has a certain resonance. A creature capable of not just manipulating blood, but of commanding its very essence. Of restoring the dead, if only for a moment.”

His words hang there.

My breath catches. “William. You know?” The memory is hazy, a flash of intense connection and overwhelming power.

“I told you; I know everything that goes on at SilverGate. You are no longer just rare, Miss Morvoren. You are unique. A living catalyst for untold power.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “The question is, what will you do with it?”

He clicks his fingers.

Suddenly, I’m above ground again, spinning around to see the destruction I caused. Only there isn’t any. Everything is pristine and in its place.

“Issy,” Isaac rushes up to me and slams into me, crushing me with his hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say steadily, making a decision on the spot to protect him, no matter what. “I’m safe.”

“Safe?” he asks, stepping back and giving me a worried frown. “As in safe-safe?”

“Yes,” I lie. He needs to think that no one is coming for me, that I’m safe and well, and he needs to go and live his life without worrying about me anymore. I don’t want him in danger. I don’t want him anywhere near this. “Blackridge took care of it.”

He growls. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that reassuring.”

“It is,” I say calmly, taking his hand.

I can see he is still reluctant to take this at face value, but he can’t accuse me of lying, so he has no choice but to accept it. It’s better this way. I hate that I can’t tell him how scared I am, how I’ve changed, but I have to. Maybe one day, but that day isn’t today.