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Broderick carried Davina into the dimly lit chamber, cradling her fragile frame as though she might shatter from the barest jolt.

The cold pressed in from the damp stone walls, which seemed to weep with age, their slick surfaces catching the weak glow of scattered braziers.

The flames licked at the gloom but did little to warm the air.

His boots fell in muffled echoes against the floor as he approached the chair at the chamber’s center—the same chair he had sat in thirty years past, when his fate had been sealed.

With infinite care, he lowered Davina into the chair.

Her skin burned beneath his fingers, fevered and slick with sweat.

He brushed a damp strand of hair from her brow, his knuckles lingering as though touch alone could anchor her to life.

She trembled violently, her body wracked by the cruel grip of the blood thrall.

Broderick settled beside her, his lips pressed to her fingers, his gaze fixed on the far door.

The one from which the Army of Light would send their judgment.

A shift of leather broke the taut silence. One of the Vamsyrian guards stepped forward, nodding toward the exit. “You must leave, Vamsyrian. The blood slave must face this trial alone.”

Broderick didn’t spare him a glance. “I stay,” he said, his voice iron-clad, brooking no argument.

The guard faltered, uncertain, looking to his companion for guidance. The second guard gave a shrug, and without further challenge, both melted back into the chamber’s shadows, their presence lingering but silent.

Broderick’s attention never wavered. His thumb brushed gently along Davina’s knuckles, a quiet reassurance.

Time stretched thin. The chamber held its breath, the stillness broken only by Davina’s ragged, labored breathing. Then, with a low, grinding scrape, the bolt on the far door slid free. Davina flinched at the sound, her fingers clawing the chair’s armrest as her eyes widened.

The heavy door yawned open, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow. Frail and stooped, silver hair spilled from beneath the figure’s hood, catching the light like threads of moonlight. The door thudded closed behind her, and the bolt slammed home, sealing them in.

Slowly, the cloaked woman turned, her movements laden with the weight of years. Hands clasped before her, she lifted her chin, and as the hood fell away, pale silver hair framed a face etched deep with sorrow and time.

Her wide, astonished gaze locked onto Broderick’s.

His breath caught in his chest .

Recognition flared like a spark in the dark.

She fell to her knees with a gasp, her voice cracking with anguish as she cried out, “Father, why do you curse me so!” Her trembling hands clasped before her in supplication, as though prayer might undo the torment fate had woven around her.

Broderick flexed his jaw. The face before him was older, carved by time and sorrow, but unmistakably hers. He stepped closer, his voice roughened by disbelief and memory. “Evangeline?”

Her head lifted, silver hair framing a face once trusted. “Hello, Broderick,” she whispered, her voice splintering. “You… You haven’t aged a day.”

From the chair, Davina’s weak voice cut through the heavy air, frayed but clear. “Your wife?” she asked, her words raw with both surprise and pain. “You said she died the day your family was slaughtered.”

Broderick bowed his head. “As far as I was concerned…” He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Evangeline. “She was dead tae me.”

“I understand.” Evangeline regarded Davina. “The marriage was annulled,” she said, a flicker of discomfort darkening her gaze before she turned it back to Broderick.

Broderick inclined his head in a stiff nod, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He had thought the passage of years had rendered their union void, but it seemed the Church had formalized what time had only begun to erode.

Davina suddenly doubled over, a cry tearing from her lips as pain racked her body. Broderick dropped to his knees before her, seizing her trembling hands in his own. “Breathe, lass,” he urged, voice low and fierce with worry. “I’m here. Ye’ll get through this.”

She fought for air, her features twisted in agony. Broderick held her fast, his thumbs stroking her knuckles as he murmured every comfort he could find in his battered heart. When the spasms eased, and her breathing steadied, she slumped against the chair, glassy-eyed but defiant.

Turning her gaze to Evangeline, Davina drew a ragged breath. “I understand you’re to explain to me the other side of my choice,” she rasped. “Please…do so.”

Broderick rose slowly, placing himself at Davina’s side and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. His expression hardened, resolute. “This is but a formality,” he said, his jaw tight as iron. “Davina chooses the cure. She will not become a Vamsyrian.”

Evangeline’s brow arched, her gaze slipping to Davina as though weighing her soul. “Is that true?” she asked softly, the question more than a simple inquiry—it felt like a test of resolve.

Davina, though pale and trembling, managed a faint nod. Yet Evangeline’s troubled eyes flicked back to Broderick. “Do you care for her?” she asked bluntly.

Broderick’s jaw tightened, his muscles working. “Of course I do.”

Evangeline stepped forward, her gaze probing for answers. “Does she realize,” she pressed, “that if she chooses the cure, she will never see you again?”

Davina’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and stricken, locking onto Broderick’s. “What?” she whispered, her voice trembling at the edges. “You knew this?”

His mouth parted, but no words came. His silence spoke louder than any confession.

Davina’s face crumpled as fresh tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Why did you not tell me?”

Broderick knelt beside her, his hands grasping hers tightly.

“ Because I feared ye wouldnae come here with me,” he rasped, his voice raw and fraying at the edges.

“I didnae want ye tae transform, but I couldnae bear tae watch ye suffer the death that awaited ye. If I must sacrifice my heart so that ye may live and remain with yer daughter…then so be it.”

Evangeline gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes rounding in startled realization.

“And if I choose to become a Vamsyrian?” Davina asked, her voice wavering but her gaze holding steady on Evangeline. “What will it mean, beyond immortality and this life in the shadows Broderick lives?”

“You will be turning your back on God, child,” Evangeline replied, her tone grave. “Vamsyrians rarely speak of this truth outside of these walls, but they are creatures of Satan—”

“What?” Broderick’s voice lashed out like a whip. He surged to his feet, eyes blazing. “Vamsyrians are no such thing!”

“Broderick!” Evangeline placed a hand against her chest. “I thought at least you would have told her the truth!”

“Ye never said this, not on the night I faced this choice!” Broderick fired back, his voice rough with remembered fury. “Ye only said I would be turning my back on God.”

“What did you think that meant?” Evangeline demanded, her gaze fierce.

“What I tell you now is true, Broderick, and I am astonished those monsters never explained it to you in all these years. Besides, even if I had finished my warning, you would not have listened. You had already made your choice.”

Broderick’s glare faltered, his fierce denial softening into grim resignation. He exhaled a heavy sigh. “Aye, ye’re right, Evangeline. Continue.”

“Davina,” she said gently, “Vamsyrians are Satan’s vengeance upon God.

In his eternal spite for mankind—God’s cherished creation, gifted with free will—Satan forged a bargain that traps the soul for eternity.

His new creations thirst for blood, forced to spill innocent life to sustain their immortality, damning their trapped souls with a growing burden of sin that can never be cleansed. ”

Evangeline hesitated at the horror on Davina’s face, but she pressed on, her voice low and steady.

“They are a mockery of Christ’s salvation, my child.

They gain immortality through the shedding of innocent blood.

Humanity gained eternal life through the shedding of Jesus’ innocent blood.

What the Tzava Ha’or —the Army of Light—offers is a chance at a new life, and protection from the Vamsyrians.

They are forbidden from harming us or any we shelter, lest they provoke the wrath of God Himself.

That means those who choose the Army of Light rarely, if ever, remain among Vamsyrians.

Choose to come with me, and you will be healed.

” She drew back, folding her hands in her lap, her eyes steady on Davina. “This is the choice before you.”

Davina’s gaze wavered between Broderick and Evangeline, her eyes brimming with tears. Another wave of pain tore through her, forcing a shudder from her lips. She clung to the arms of the chair, teeth gritted, as Broderick brushed a trembling kiss against her fevered brow, his touch a silent plea.

Davina inhaled a ragged breath and, with tears streaking her cheeks, she found her voice. “I choose to become a Vamsyrian.”

“Davina, nay!” Broderick’s protest tore from his chest as he gripped her shoulders to shake some sense into her. “Ye must choose tae go with Evangeline!”

“I cannot choose her path if it means I’ll never see you again.” Davina’s voice broke on a sob, her bottom lip trembling as fresh tears gathered. “How can you ask that of me?”

“I dinnae want ye tae live this kind of life, Blossom. ”

“But if I become a Vamsyrian, I can have both you and Cailin in my life,” she pressed, desperation lacing her tone. “And I would have the power to defend myself and Cailin if your brother Angus returns to finish what he started. Why are you—”

Evangeline gasped. “Angus is your brother?”

Broderick’s shoulders sagged beneath the weight of grim truth. “Aye,” he admitted, voice raw. “My brother he is.”