Page 2 of Vampire Solstice (Vampire Girl #5)

Chapter 2

The Mythos Tree

“ C lear the room!” I shout, my voice cutting through the rising panic.

Kayla doesn’t hesitate, barking orders to the guards. “Get everyone out, now! Seal the doors behind you!”

The guards rush to herd the remaining petitioners out of the throne room, their shouts mixing with the murmurs of fear from the crowd. The heavy groan of the tree and the faint cracking of stone beneath its roots grow louder with each passing moment.

As the Mythos pulses again, a faint glow spreads from its base, crawling outward like veins of molten fire. But instead of light, it leaves decay in its wake. The stone blackens and cracks, the air growing colder, heavier, as if the tree itself is sucking the life from the room.

“Kayla!” I call, urgency tightening my voice. “Send someone to the nursery. Make sure the princess is safe.”

Kayla nods, signaling a guard, who sprints from the room. “She’ll be fine, Ari. We’ll handle this.”

Yami shifts uneasily on my shoulder, letting out a soft, nervous trill. Baron growls low beside Fen, his fur bristling as he steps protectively between us and the tree.

“What’s it doing?” I ask, my eyes locked on the spreading rot.

Fen moves closer to the Mythos, his every movement cautious. “It’s growing,” he says grimly. “Feeding. But on what?”

Ace rushes in, his red hair tousled and his face streaked with soot. He stops short at the sight of the Mythos, his jaw tightening. “What in the name of—”

“No time for commentary,” Kayla snaps, her dagger still drawn. “What do you see?”

Ace approaches the edge of the rot, kneeling to examine the cracks spreading across the stone floor. “It’s pulling energy from the room,” he mutters. “From everything around it. Look at the decay—it’s not random. It’s following a pattern, drawing power back to the tree.”

“From us?” I ask, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

Ace nods grimly. “And whatever it’s doing, it’s getting stronger.”

I take a step closer, ignoring the sharp chill that radiates from the Mythos. Its glow intensifies, and I feel it now—a pull, faint but insistent, like an unseen hand tugging at the edges of my soul.

Fen grabs my arm, stopping me. “Don’t get too close,” he warns, his voice low and steady. “Whatever this is, it’s tied to us. The witch said the curse was for us, Ari. This isn’t random.”

“But what does it want?” I ask, my frustration boiling over. “We need Kal. He’d know what to do.”

“Kal’s halfway across the realm chasing down that lead on the ruins,” Kayla says sharply. “We can’t wait for him to stroll back with a book. We have to deal with this now.”

Ace straightens, his expression unusually grim. “This isn’t just a tree,” he says. “It’s doing something. Look.”

He points to the base of the Mythos, where the glow has gathered into a swirling mass of light and shadow. The air around it ripples like heat rising from stone, but the room is growing colder by the second.

“What’s happening?” Kayla asks, her voice tight with tension.

The glow expands, the swirling energy picking up speed. The pull grows stronger, dragging at my clothes, my hair, my very being. Yami takes flight from my shoulder, chirping in alarm as he circles above me.

“It’s opening something,” Ace says, backing away.

“What?” Kayla snaps. “Opening what?”

“I don’t know!” Ace shouts, his frustration as raw as mine.

The Mythos groans again, the sound deep and resonant, reverberating through my chest. The roots dig deeper into the floor, and the spreading decay reaches the walls, cracking the stone with ominous precision.

“Sunset,” Fen murmurs, his gaze shifting to the high windows of the throne room.

I follow his line of sight. The last rays of sunlight stretch across the room, their golden glow stark against the cold blue light of the Mythos. The shadows deepen as the sun dips below the horizon, and with it, the energy in the room shifts.

The pull intensifies, dragging me forward. Fen’s arm wraps around my waist, holding me back as the swirling vortex at the base of the Mythos grows larger, brighter. The cold seeps into my bones, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“Ari!” Kayla’s voice cuts through the chaos. “What do we do?”

I shake my head, my mind racing. “We have to stop it!”

“Brilliant plan,” Ace snaps. “Got any details on how?”

Before I can respond, the vortex surges, and the pull becomes irresistible. My feet skid across the floor as I’m dragged toward the Mythos. Fen’s grip tightens, but even his strength isn’t enough to fight the force.

“Fen!” I cry out, panic clawing at my throat.

“I won’t let go,” he says fiercely, his other hand gripping his sword as if he can cut through the magic itself.

The light from the Mythos is blinding. The roar of its energy drowns out every other sound.

“Ari!” Kayla’s voice is distant now, lost in the chaos.

The last thing I see is Kayla and Ace fighting against the pull, their faces pale with fear. Then the world tilts, and everything goes dark.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I notice is the cold—sharp, invasive, and nothing like the chill of the throne room. The stone beneath me is rougher, jagged, and damp with frost. My breath puffs out in front of me, misty and quick as panic sets in.

This isn’t High Castle.

I push myself up, my palms stinging from the raw texture of the ground. We are at the center of a village courtyard. The dying Mythos Tree nearly collapsing against a giant statue.

A fae woman on the back of a dragon, sword held high.

The Midnight Star. But not me, I realize. A predecessor. Or at least a representation of one. The statue hasn’t been maintained well.

“Where… where are we?” My voice comes out hoarse, the words barely above a whisper.

Fen is already on his feet, his stance rigid, every muscle coiled with tension. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade as he scans the quiet village. “Not anywhere familiar,” he mutters. His voice is as sharp as the frostbitten air. “This place… it feels wrong. Cursed.”

I can feel it too, a heavy weight pressing down on me. It’s not just the cold—it’s the air itself, thick and humming with the same strange energy that pulsed through the Mythos. My chest tightens as I glance around, searching for any sign of something familiar. I call upon my magic, trying to summon Yami, but he does not appear. How could that be?

Fen’s eyes narrow, his gaze fixed on a section of wall where the stone has been stripped bare, frost creeping up its surface like veins. “This isn’t any of the villages in Inferna, Avakiri or the Outlands that I’ve seen,” he says. “Look at the architecture. It’s older. And the stars…” He looks up at the darkening sky. “They’re wrong.”

I follow his gaze, shivering as a sky I don’t recognize. I think of my first time in this world, the first time I learned other worlds existed. How the sky was the most unsettling part of it all.. The constellations were different, alien, their strange patterns stirring unease in my gut.

Just as now.

“What does this mean?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. My thoughts race to the Mythos, to the curse. And then to my daughter.

“Our baby,” I choke out, my breath catching. “I sent someone to make sure she was safe, but what if—what if the curse reached her too?”

Fen steps closer, his hand brushing my arm. “Ari,” he says firmly, his voice grounding me. “Baron and Yami are with her. Kayla is there. They’ll protect her.”

I nod, clinging to his words like a lifeline, but the doubt lingers.

A sudden sound tears through the silence—a deep, guttural howl that seems to reverberate through the stones themselves. My heart leaps into my throat as I instinctively move closer to Fen.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“Something that doesn’t want us here,” Fen says grimly. He draws his blade, the familiar ring of steel against leather bringing a fleeting sense of security. “We need to find shelter. Now.”

I nod, forcing my legs to obey even as the fear weighs them down. But as we move toward the buildings of the village, the wind picks up, sudden and ferocious. Snow and ice lash against us, the air shifting from bitter cold to unbearable.

“A blizzard?” I shout over the roar of the wind. “Out of nowhere?”

Fen shields me as best he can, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. “It’s not natural,” he growls. “Stay close.”

The storm intensifies, the snow thick and relentless, obscuring everything beyond a few feet. The cold cuts through my gown and cloak, biting into my skin like tiny daggers.

“There!” Fen points through the storm, his sharp gaze catching something I can barely make out—a cluster of dark shapes huddled together in the distance. Small, squat cottages sag under the heavy weight of snow. As we approach, a young fae boy, no older than eight, freezes. His eyes wide, he turns and runs, disappearing into a nearby cottage. “Well, that’s not ominous,” I mutter, my breath visible in the freezing air.

Fen’s hand tightens on his blade as he surveys the cottages. “Stay alert. We don’t know who—or what—lives here.”

Before we can move, the door to the boy’s cottage creaks open. A young woman steps out, her face pale but resolute. Her brown cloak flutters in the wind as she hurries toward us. She’s dressed in drab, beige clothing, except for a single spot of color in her hair. A bright red ribbon with one end fraying like it had been torn.

“You…” Her voice trembles, her words barely audible over the storm. “You must come with me.”

I exchange a wary glance with Fen. “Who are you?” I ask.

She hesitates, her gaze darting between us and the storm. “I’m Myra. My grandmother… she said you would come. There isn’t much time.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, laden with urgency I can’t ignore. I glance at Fen again, his expression unreadable, but he gives a slight nod.

“Take us to her,” I say, pulling my cloak tighter around me.

The young woman doesn’t wait for us to follow. She turns quickly, leading us toward a larger house at the edge of the village. The building looks sturdier than the others, though no less weathered by time. The windows are fogged with frost, and smoke rises faintly from the chimney.

The inside of the house is dim and close, the faint warmth of a fire doing little to drive out the deep chill that clings to the air. A single candle flickers on a bedside table, its weak glow barely illuminating the room.

In the corner, an old woman lies in a low bed, her frail frame swaddled in threadbare blankets. Her skin is as pale and brittle as the frost outside, her sunken eyes sharp despite her fragile appearance. Her breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, the sound rattling like dry leaves.

She is familiar.

“You,” I say, my word an exhale. “You’re the witch who cursed us.”

The old woman’s eyes flicker open, and her lips curl into a faint, satisfied smile. “At last,” she rasps, her voice barely more than a breath.

I take a cautious step forward, the weight of her gaze pressing down on me. “Why have you brought us here?”

Her smile fades, replaced by a look of profound weariness. “It was time,” she whispers, her voice carrying a note of finality. “The curse could wait no longer. We need the Midnight Star and the Moonlight Prince.”

Beside me, Fen stiffens, his eyes narrowing. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade, a subtle but unmistakable gesture of distrust. “What curse?” he demands.

The old woman’s eyes drift toward the frost-covered window, and her words, when they come, are barely a whisper. Her breathing is slow, so slow. And labored. She doesn’t have long.

“The curse that binds this place. Break it and free us.”

“What happens if we don’t?” Fen asks.

The old woman’s hand lashes out, grabbing my wrist with brittle fingers. “Then you will join in the fate of all who live here. You will be trapped forever.”