Page 4 of Vampire Solstice (Vampire Girl #5)

Chapter 4

The Cave

T he forest is a labyrinth of gnarled trees and frozen shadows, the ground beneath our boots cracking with frost. The cold bites harder here, more relentless than it was in the village, as if the very woods are alive and determined to drive us back. Myra walks ahead of us, her cloak blending into the pale gray of the storm-worn landscape. She carries a lantern, its faint light casting long, flickering shapes across the snow.

“This path should lead to where the last attack occurred,” Myra says, her voice hardly audible over the hissing of the wind.

I exchange a glance with Fen, gripped by deepening worry . He frowns, his eyes narrowing as he scans for danger.

The silence stretches as we continue deeper into the woods. The storm has eased, but the air is heavy with an unnatural stillness. Every broken branch or crunch of ice is deafening.

“Are you sure we’re not being led in circles?” Fen mutters.

“I’m sure,” Myra snaps, her voice defensive.

But I can feel it too—that faint sense of disorientation, as if the forest is shifting around us. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the village far closer than it should be, but there’s only the endless expanse of trees and snow.

“We’re nearly there,” Myra says in a tight voice, fingers fidgeting with her red ribbon.

We crest a small hill, and I see it: a clearing, its edges marked by clawed-up snow and the dark, jagged remains of shattered branches. The air feels colder here, sharper, the stillness even more oppressive.

“This is the last place it attacked,” Myra says, stopping at the edge of the clearing. Fen steps forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over the scene. “How long ago?,” he says, crouching to inspect the ground.

“Two months.” Myra tightens her cloak around her shoulders as she shifts her gaze to the side.

“A long time,” he mutters, his frown deepening. “We won’t find any tracks.”

“Are the attacks always so infrequent?” I ask, scanning the area for signs of an animal den.

Myra pauses, biting her lip, then shakes her head. “No. They used to come more often.”

“Perhaps something injured the beast,” I say.

Fen scowls. “Or it's hibernating.” He looks at Myra. “Do the attacks slow in winter?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

Fen stands, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe? Think your village would notice something like that–”

“It’s always winter here,” Myra says defiantly. “So I would have no way of knowing the beast’s behavior in other seasons. This is our weather year round.”

I can’t imagine living like this all year long. How do they even sustain themselves, I wonder. “What else can you tell us? Did anyone see what direction it went from here?”

She hesitates, her lips parting as if to speak, but then she shakes her head. “No,” she says, too slowly. “It always vanishes into the woods.”

I glance at Fen, his jaw tight with suspicion. Something about her answers doesn’t sit right, but I can’t bring myself to press her further. Not yet.

“We keep moving,” I say. “Its den can’t be too far from the village, if its curse is to hunt the people and keep them contained. And if the beast is watching us, staying here won’t help.”

Fen nods, though his gaze lingers on Myra for a moment longer before we continue.

The forest grows darker as we press on, the trees thickening around us as Myra leads the way The lantern’s light is dim, barely cutting through the gloom, and the cold seems to seep deeper into my bones with every step.

I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. It’s subtle at first—a prickling at the back of my neck, the faint sound of branches shifting in the distance. But as we move deeper, it grows stronger, more insistent.

“Did you hear that?” Fen asks, his hand tightening on his blade.

I freeze, my breath catching as I strain to listen. And then I hear it: a faint, low growl, so soft I almost think I imagined it.

Myra’s grip on the lantern falters, her knuckles white. “It’s close,” she whispers.

Fen moves to my side, his presence solid and grounding.

The growl comes again, louder this time, reverberating through the trees. It’s a sound that doesn’t belong, something too deep, too primal to be natural.

“Run!” Myra shouts, her voice breaking with panic.

Before I can react, she bolts, the lantern swinging wildly in her grasp as she disappears into the trees.

“Damn it,” Fen growls, reaching for me. “We need to move!”

But it’s too late. The ground beneath us shifts suddenly, the snow giving way with a deafening crack. I cry out as we’re plunged downward, the world tilting as the ground swallows us whole.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I notice is the silence. The wind is gone, replaced by a suffocating stillness. The air is cold and damp, carrying the faint, metallic tang of stone.

I push myself up, my hands brushing against rough, uneven rock. My head throbs, but I’m otherwise unhurt.

“Ari?” Fen’s voice cuts through the darkness, sharp with worry.

“I’m here,” I say quickly, my heart racing as I search for him.

A faint glimmer of light catches my eye, and I see him a few feet away, brushing snow and dirt from his cloak. His sword is still in his hand, though the blade is nicked from the fall.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his gaze sweeping over me.

“I think so,” I say with a shaky voice. I glance upward, my stomach sinking as I see the jagged hole above us. Snow and roots hang precariously over the edge, far out of reach. “Where are we?”

He scans our surroundings, his expression grim. “A cave,” he says.

“Yes, I can see that,” I say, my lips curling in amusement despite the seriousness of the situation. “I meant where in relation to town is this cave? I wonder how far it goes in either direction. Maybe this is how the beast gets around so easily without being seen.”

Fen moves to my side, his hand brushing against mine. “If it is, we need to stay alert. We’re now the hunted, rather than the hunter.”

“We need to work on your pep talks,” I say, but I don’t disagree.

Fen takes a slow breath, placing his head against the cave wall, and the earth seems to groan in response. “I can get us out,” says the earth druid, “If “need be.”

I shake my head, gesturing at a set of faint tracks in the dark. They are too large to be from some common animal. “First we go deeper. I suspect it’s how we find the beast.”

The cave is eerily silent, the damp walls glistening faintly in the dim light that filters down through the jagged hole above. Fen’s hand lingers on mine as we begin to move, each step deliberate and cautious on the uneven ground.

The sound of our breathing echoes softly, and for a moment, it’s the only noise that breaks the oppressive stillness.

“We haven’t been alone like this in a while,” Fen says quietly, his voice low and calm as it cuts through the quiet.

I glance at him, his profile sharp and stoic in the faint light. “Trapped in a cave in a snow storm?” I say with a teasing lilt to my voice. “It has been awhile. Good times. Except for the part where you were poisoned and nearly died.”

“Except for that part,” Fen agrees with a low chuckle.

“Have we been an old boring married couple?” I ask.

He huffs out a soft laugh, the sound warming the cold air between us. “Or a very tired one,” he says. “I never imagined raising a child while ruling a kingdom would be so exhausting.”

I sigh. “We have lost a bit of ourselves, haven’t we?”

His hand brushes against mine as we continue deeper into the cave. The walls begin to narrow, the air growing colder.

“We still have each other,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “And I cling to that. But… it’s hard sometimes,” I admit. “Balancing it all. Being a mother, a queen, a wife… sometimes it feels like there’s nothing left of me.”

Fen slows, turning to face me. His gaze is steady, piercing. “You’re everything, Ari,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “To me, to her, to the people. You hold us all together.”

I feel the knot in my chest loosen slightly, his words cutting through the weight I’ve been carrying. “I couldn’t do it without you,” I say, reaching out to touch his cheek.

He leans into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. “You shouldn’t have to,” he murmurs. “I know it’s been challenging since the baby… since the war. But I’m here. Always.”

I step closer, our foreheads touching as the tension between us melts into something warmer, more intimate. “I know,” I whisper, my hand slipping into his.

For a moment, the cave fades away, the cold and the darkness forgotten. It’s just us, the rhythm of our breathing, the quiet reassurance of his presence.

His lips brush against mine, soft and tentative at first, but the kiss deepens, a slow burn that steadies the chaos inside me. My free hand finds the back of his neck, his fingers tightening around mine as we lose ourselves in each other.

When we finally pull away, our foreheads remain pressed together, our breaths mingling in the cold air.

“I’ve missed this,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” he replies, his voice raw with honesty.

The moment feels sacred, like something we’ve stolen back from the relentless demands of our lives. But it’s interrupted by the faint sound of claws clattering against stone.

We both freeze, our gazes snapping toward the source of the noise.

Fen draws his sword in one fluid motion, stepping protectively in front of me as we move cautiously toward the sound. The cave widens into a small chamber.

We both freeze, looking around. The beast isn’t here, and the sound we heard is gone.

“Is this where it lives?” I ask. I take a step forward but Fen holds my arm, stopping me.

“Look,” he says, pointing.

There are chains attached to the stone walls, with cuffs at the end. Four of them.

Dried blood stains the ground..

There are bones piled high on one side of the cavern, and a makeshift sleeping mat on the other.

On top the sleeping mat is a single red ribbon, one edge ripped and fraying.

The realization hits like a blow, the warmth of our moment together replaced by a cold sense of betrayal.

“Does that ribbon remind you of something?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“It does,” Fen says, thinking the same thing.

“Why would the other half of Myra’s ribbon be in the den of the beast?”

“I don’t know,”” he says, his voice low, “but we’re going to find out.”