Chapter 33: The Unwelcome Presence
{VAL}
I brought the goblet to my lips, letting the virgin blood settle upon my tongue—a rich, warm sweetness laced with innocence and fear.
Its warmth flowed through me, yet did little to soothe the storm brewing in my chest.
Beyond the mansion’s glass walls, the world sprawled in a storm of night. The moon hung low, bleeding pale silver across the forest, while the distant mountains brooded like silent sentinels.
This estate—my inheritance, my prison—felt smaller by the hour.
This body’s power, lineage, very blood... All carried the mark of nobility. All bore the ancient purity of House Nightborne.
And yet—
Even with all of that—it was not enough.
Not enough to withstand him.
Valtheris Darkmoon.
The last surviving pure-blooded vampire directly from the First—the one whose shadow devoured the world long before kingdoms rose or mortal tongues could name him.
His presence warped the very air, bent the laws of magic around his will. He was a legend, a nightmare, a myth carved into the spine of time.
And he walked freely.
Unchallenged.
Untouched.
My fingers tightened around the stem of the goblet, the crystal creaking under my grip. It was all my fault . . .
But all was not lost.
If I could find it.
I could tip the scales back.
If I could locate that—everything would be restored.
Only then could I stop him—
I could stop Valtheris . . . no . . . Daimon.
I had no time left. He was gaining power fast.
My thoughts broke violently as something within the mansion’s wards trembled—a ripple, faint yet unmistakable, sliding through my awareness like a cold breath against the back of my neck.
My head snapped toward the source.
No . . .
Something was inside the mansion.
A chill slithered through my spine.
Iris!
Her name tore from my mind like a scream. A pulse of power flared through me, sharp and instinctive.
Within the span of a single heartbeat, I crossed the corridors and materialized inside her chamber.
"Iris!"
Her name tore from my throat before I could silence it—raw, sharp, laced with a fear I had not allowed myself to feel in centuries.
But I stopped.
Stopped dead.
The scene before me drove the breath from my lungs.
Iris was gone.
In her place stood a majestic white wolf, taller than my chest, her silver-white fur glowing like snow set ablaze under moonlight. Her eyes were amethyst jewels, bright and ancient, twin moons carved from the night sky.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Divine.
A creature that did not belong to this world... yet somehow belonged entirely to her.
Beneath her paw lay a fading mass of shadows—the dissolving corpse of what had once been a vampire.
Not one of mine.
Not a rogue.
There were only a handful of vampires who could infiltrate these halls uninvited, slipping past enchantments and wards woven by High Witches and reinforced by my blood.
Daimon.
Or one of his generals.
Judging by the remnants of darkness, this one had been a shadow-walker—an assassin, and a high-ranking one. Their kind did not die easily. And yet—
He was dead.
Slain by the wolf now standing before me.
The wolf who stared at me calmly.
Too calmly.
One wrong move—one misstep, one flicker of hostility—and she would strike.
This body of mine could defend itself, yes... but I would not walk away untouched.
Iris’s wolf was not a mere beast. She was something far older.
Far more dangerous.
Without moving her lips, her voice rippled through my mind—low, resonant, echoing with a memory I should not have had.
"You... why do I feel as though I have known you before?"
Her gaze pierced me, cutting through flesh, bone, and centuries.
I inhaled slowly.
Should I tell her?
A lie would not hold. A half-truth would crumble.
And I needed her—needed this creature—if I wanted any hope of achieving my goals.
"Yes," I answered quietly. "We have met before."
The wolf did not blink. Her violet eyes narrowed.
"Impossible. You are far too young."
I dipped my head slightly. "Then forgive me... I should have clarified. It is this mind—this memory—that had meet you."
I met her eyes. "But the truth remains: we have crossed paths once."
She stilled.
A soft rumble vibrated in her throat. Her eyes widened for only a heartbeat before settling into cold understanding.
"I see... no wonder." Her gaze swept the room. "That man—Valtheris—was here. Yet he felt... wrong. Not the same as before." She lowered her head, ears flattening slightly. "So that is how it is."
Then her voice sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade.
"What do you want with her?"
There was no need for pretense.
"Our goals align."
She growled, the sound deep, rumbling from her chest. "My goal is for her to live an ordinary life."
Despite myself, a breath of dark amusement slipped past my lips.
Her ears snapped forward.
"I do not find humor in my words, vampire."
"You are right," I said, voice softer. "Yet... centuries ago, you asked me the same question. Why I wished to remain alone. Why I withdrew from the world. Why I want to live my life in peace."
A shadow flickered across her eyes.
"How strange, how ironic, that now I stand here and you giving me the answer I once gave you."
Her posture shifted, bristling with ancient authority.
"I do not know what has happened to you," she said slowly, "nor why a powerful vampire was reduced to this—to a body of limited strength. But hear me clearly. Leave Iris out of your war."
My face hardened. "It is already too late for that."
The chamber seemed to still.
The wolf’s fur rose, sharp white strands standing like blades.
"I do not care," she snarled. "I have no interest in your clans, your nobles, or your accursed bloodlines. Leave. Her. Out."
"I cannot."
My voice carried the weight of truth. "And you know why."
Her eyes flickered angrily.
"You should understand better than anyone," I murmured, "what Iris is now. What she may become. Would you truly keep her caged from herself? Are you really okay with not meeting her?"
Silence cut through us.
The wolf lowered her gaze.
Not in submission—but in pain.
Then she lifted her head once more and spoke with a deadly softness:
"I warn you now, young Lord... no—Valtheris."
My breath caught.
I had not heard that name directed at me in this body.
Her voice deepened into a growl that rattled the stones beneath us.
"Do not ever... hurt Iris."
And in a shimmer of moonlit flame—
She vanished.
In her place, Iris’s body collapsed.
I lunged forward, catching her before she struck the ground. Her weight was soft, warm, fragile in my arms.
She slept with a peace that made my chest tighten, her lashes fluttering softly against her cheeks like fallen feathers.
Beautiful.
So painfully beautiful.
And I felt it again—that flicker of guilt.
That whisper of regret.
Dragging her into this war was unforgivable.
Yet it was the only way.
To defeat Daimon...
I needed her.
"Sebastian," I called, materializing at her bedside as I laid her gently upon the sheets.
He arrived instantly. "My Lord."
"You know what has occurred." My voice was quiet, but edge with seriousness. "One of Daimon’s generals breached the wards. A shadow-assassin. Her wolf destroyed him."
Sebastian’s eyes darkened. "His death will alert Daimon."
"Yes."
I stood, pulling the blanket over Iris’s sleeping form. "We have perhaps ten days before Daimon realizes his subordinate has not reported back."
Sebastian bowed his head.
"We shall hasten her training," I continued. "And send her to the Coven of Midnight. Even if it is closed... students may still live within its walls."
"Understood, my Lord."
I brushed a stray lock of hair from Iris’s cheek.
Her face—soft, innocent—was a cruel reminder of the normal life she could never return to.
"I will see to her enrollment," I said quietly. "While I am gone... protect her."
Sebastian bowed, hand to his chest.
"As you command, my Lord."
