Chapter 101: Escape Written in Ash 2
{IRIS}
The reaction was instant.
Light—pure, blinding—burst outward, searing through the bindings. The chains screamed as they dissolved, unraveling into ash that scattered across the floor.
I collapsed into Caroline’s arms.
For one perfect, fragile moment, I thought we might actually make it.
Then Morgana screamed.
The sound was raw, furious, unrestrained. Black fire exploded outward, flooding the chamber in an inferno that swallowed everything in its path.
The Shadow Guard turned, shadows flaring wide, shielding us once more.
But this time—
It faltered.
Cracks rippled through its form, darkness tearing at the edges as Morgana poured more and more power into the attack.
The flames seared my skin and tore through my lungs, agony with every breath, but I never stepped away from Caroline. I could heal. She might not survive this.
Valerius rejoined her, arcane surging in tandem.
"Enough games," Morgana snarled. "I will kill you."
The Shadow Guard let out a sound.
Not a voice.
A rupture.
Shadows detonated outward in a violent wave, hurling Morgana and Valerius back. The room collapsed into chaos—pillars crumbling, stone raining from above.
It was my chance!
I grabbed Caroline and . . .
THE SCROLL?!
The moment I reached into my pocket and felt nothing but torn fabric, my heart dropped into my stomach.
No.
No, no, no—
I yanked my hand out and stared at the ragged tear. The scroll was gone.
"No," I hissed.
Panic surged through my veins like wildfire. My eyes darted around the ruined hall, thick smoke still curling through the air, dust drifting down from shattered stone pillars.
Somewhere amidst the chaos, the precious scroll lay abandoned.
I couldn’t lose it.
It was our only escape from here!
I dropped to my knees and scanned the floor, coughing as ash coated my throat.
Then—there.
Just a few meters away. The parchment glimmered faintly under the flickering torchlight, half-buried beneath rubble.
"Cover me, Caroline!" I shouted.
"What?!" she cried, still struggling to steady herself. Her hair was matted with dust, eyes wide and unfocused.
She hadn’t recovered from the chaos—the explosions, the collapsing ceiling, the waves of dark magic ripping through the air.
I didn’t wait for her reply.
I rolled across the floor, ignoring the sharp stones cutting into my skin.
The air grew thick with malevolence, like the room itself was suffocating under Morgana’s rage.
"You won’t get away!" Morgana shrieked.
Her voice cracked like thunder, shrill and venomous. I didn’t need to see her face to know it was twisted with pure malice. The fury in her tone alone was enough to freeze my blood.
Valerius let out an annoyed sigh.
"Sol is really getting on my nerves," he muttered. His voice carried a lazy arrogance even in battle. "Hey, wherever you are, come out and fight me one on one. Stop hiding in the shadows! Come out and fight me yourself!"
Silence answered him.
I rolled again, stretching out my hand. My fingers brushed against the edge of the scroll just as another violent burst of dark flame erupted behind me.
The impact shook the hall, sending a tremor through the ground.
A massive plume of black fire spiraled upward like a living beast.
"Playtime’s over!" Morgana laughed. Her lips curled into a wicked grin. "I will burn you to ashes!"
She thrust her hands forward.
A roaring inferno surged toward me.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I snatched the scroll and twisted around. It was too late to go to Caroline, so I hurled it at her.
She barely caught it.
"Rip it!" I shouted.
"What about you?!" she cried.
"Rip it! Or both of us will die here!"
Her hands trembled. I saw the hesitation in her eyes—the fear, the guilt. She didn’t want to leave me.
But we didn’t have time.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lip, and tore the scroll in half.
A bright flash engulfed her.
She vanished just as Valerius’s thorn-like vines smashed into the space she’d occupied a heartbeat earlier.
Good.
At least she was safe.
Then Morgana’s black flames swallowed me whole.
I closed my eyes.
This was it.
No matter how fast my healing ability was, I didn’t know if it could regenerate flesh faster than hellfire could burn it.
The pain should’ve been unbearable. I braced myself for my skin melt, my bones turn to ash.
But—
Nothing.
I frowned.
The heat never came.
Instead, something strange surrounded me.
A translucent, shimmering energy field enveloped my body. It glowed faintly, pulsating like a living heartbeat.
The shadow guard materialized in front of me, attempting to shield me—but the moment it touched Morgana’s flames, it burst into nothingness.
Even it couldn’t withstand the inferno.
Yet I remained untouched.
"What... what is this?" I whispered.
I reached out.
The energy gathered into my palm, warm and familiar.
Arcane.
My arcane.
It reacted on instinct, protecting me without my command.
Finally . . .
Finally I could use it!
"ENOUGH!"
The hall fell silent.
Both Valerius and Morgana froze mid-attack.
The black flames vanished, devoured by thick red liquid that splattered across the floor like spilled wine.
Blood.
Then he appeared.
Lord Val.
My heart thundered at the sight of his back.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Jet-black hair cleanly cut.
His waist tapered perfectly, legs long and powerful—every inch of him radiating authority.
For some reason, the relief that crashed into me was overwhelming.
So overwhelming that darkness swallowed my vision.
====
{VAL}
"Hey, you."
I halted mid-step.
Turning, I spotted Zephyros floating lazily toward me, his ghostly form flickering like a dying candle.
"Finally found you," he said. "I’ve been looking all over."
My brow lifted. "What would a library ghost want with me?"
"I have a name, you know." He scowled. "And I’m not a librarian, I’m a guardian. Anyway—your human. That blood bank you claimed? She’s been kidnapped."
My jaw tightened.
"Those vampires dragged her to the freshman welcoming party or whatever nonsense they’re hosting."
I exhaled slowly.
Vladimir was sleeping.
For now.
I had regained control somehow, but another mention of that woman’s name, and he might stir once more.
I had hoped he wouldn’t wake again, but ever since that woman, Caroline appeared, he stirred. His presence clawed at my consciousness, itching to surface and reclaim his body.
I didn’t know if she was truly his mate.
But everything became complicated the moment he took over his body and declared her his "human blood bank" in front of everyone.
I’d barely managed to regain control.
Now, I didn’t want her anywhere near this body.
Not again.
I couldn’t let Vladimir awaken.
No one could know my secret.
It was my only leverage against Daimon.
Should I just kill her? The thought surfaced coldly.
Vladimir would never forgive me.
But if it was the other vampires... then he could do nothing.
It would be good if he went into a deep sleep if he knew that woman died.
That woman was nothing but trouble.
"Aren’t you going to save her?" Zephyros asked.
"Not my problem."
"Not your problem?" he snapped. "It is your problem. Because of your special attention to that human, Iris got tangled up in it. I would go myself, but I can’t leave this place. So I’m hoping you’ll save Iris..."
He rambled on—unusual for him. Zephyros was normally silent, lethargic, uninterested in everything.
But his words faded.
All I heard was one name.
Iris?
Before he could finish, I teleported out of the academy.
The stench of iron assaulted me the instant I stepped into Sol Evernight’s domain.
It clung to the air like a curse—thick, metallic, unmistakable. Blood. Fresh and old, layered together, soaking into the very stones of this cursed place.
It crawled into my lungs, settling there, heavy and suffocating. Even after centuries, I would never grow accustomed to that scent.
So this was how he funded it.
I didn’t understand what madness had possessed Sol to host these so-called "freshman parties."
The gatherings were nothing more than glorified slaughterhouses disguised as celebrations—newbloods lured in with laughter and music, only to be drained in shadowed corners. Disgusting. Crude. Desperate.
But Noctis had informed me.
Sol needed money. A vast amount of it.
Sol was desperate, it seemed.
Sick, according to the information. But not the kind of sickness one could see. No frail limbs, no hollow eyes, no trembling hands.
Whatever plagued him was hidden beneath silk coats and false smiles.
A curse?
Poison?
Or something far more ancient enough to make a vampire lord sick?
And medicine... he needed gold for medicine. The irony almost made me laugh. A vampire lord begging fate for a cure, bleeding his own kind dry just to cling to his wretched existence.
Pathetic.
Well not that I could judge. I’m pretty pathetic myself.
I suppose we had that in common—clinging desperately to life.
The difference was simple.
He wanted to survive.
I only wanted the chance to fix my mistakes before I die.
