The Awakening

Prologue (Samantha)

The Death of The Beast

20 years ago

Today had been a long day. I spent the day with my fellow Miłonblooders at one of our hideouts with the Shadow Weavers. Negotiations were fierce, but we finally agreed to associate with the elven cult. The meeting went well, and Danareth announced that the Shadow Weavers were close to unveiling the last dragon’s secrets without specifically saying what. The meeting was disbanded, and the Shadow Weavers were allowed to stay in one of our establishments for the night.

I was back home with Father, enjoying a calm night. The cold wind blew outside. There was a chance of a snowstorm tonight. The fire licked the wood in the chimney, warming the room, and I watched it for a long time. I was ready to retire for the night, eager to let slumber’s embrace take me, when the city’s bell rang. A lump formed in my throat. The bell only rang in case of an attack or important news. I grabbed my coat and rushed outside our mansion, followed by my father. We were only a few blocks away when the smell of burnt wood came to our noses. Following the scent, we quickly caught sight of the drama unfolding. The night was lit red as fire raged and blood flowed through the streets. As we grew closer, the smell of burning flesh and thick smoke was omnipresent. Then I saw it. In the night’s darkness, the dragon’s broad wings filled the sky and breathed fire on the city.

Alastor had warned me of the beast’s importance, and the Shadow Weavers had been studying it for some time. I didn’t know what they’d done to make the dragon come out of its lair and attack, but I knew they were to blame. Alastor was clear: the beast was vital. It had to stay alive.

As a nobleman’s daughter, it wasn’t appropriate for me to go and fight with the others. My father vehemently opposed me getting any closer, but I had to see what would happen. Fortunately, being a Miłonblooder himself, he knew the holy mission I was tasked with. I told him Alastor demanded that I go, and he’d reluctantly agreed to let me get closer as long as I stayed a safe distance away.

So I stood back from the fight, watching people being slaughtered, hoping the beast would survive and return to its lair. I held my breath as the beast dodged an attack. I cheered as it spat out its fire, burning the impudent soldiers who attacked it. But above all, I breathed, hoping the wind would carry my words to him, “Go home. Now.”

I was devastated to see the dragon die. Soon, everyone wanted a piece of the beast for themselves. The claws, the heart, anything. It seemed everyone was suddenly interested in the dragon and its magical properties. They had no respect for the majesty it had once been or for death. They were looters, greedy for fame, wanting to boast that they had a piece of the dragon and had contributed to its death.

They disgusted me.

I prayed for Scorchfire’s tortured soul’s rest. In that moment of inner peace, Alastor came to me as if time stood still, the chaos around me unfolding in slow motion.

“Save the dragon,” he commanded.

He said nothing more, and I found myself speechless, my thoughts jostling frantically. How could I save a dragon that was dead? I had to find a way to revive him. I stared at the dragon. Even if I didn’t know how to bring him back to life, I couldn’t let all those barbarians take the body apart piece by piece. I had to find a way to hide the body and quickly. With the dragon’s size, it wouldn’t be an easy task. I’d have to resort to magic.

A large number of people had gathered to fight the dragon or to watch. Many of the Miłonblooders members were present, which was to my advantage. The Shadow Weavers quickly found us too. Alastor’s request was going to require as many people as possible. I ordered my followers to fetch everyone. We gathered before the beast’s body with the other onlookers, blending into the crowd. The guards tried to repel some of the looters, wanting to preserve the body for the king.

I tried to find a way to move the dragon while waiting. The only people present would be Miłonblooders and Shadow Weavers.

There couldn’t be any witnesses to what we were about to do.

Knowing that a telekinesis spell could only lift about a thousand pounds, we needed at least forty mages to move the beast. Moreover, they had to be advanced mages, as this was a mana-hungry spell. We didn’t have that many mages in our ranks, and I wasn’t sure there were that many in the whole city. Though gifted with magic by their elven nature, the Shadow Weavers weren’t all at the right level to cast this spell.

This was frustrating, as we had no mages versed in permutation magic. It was, therefore, unthinkable to reduce the size of the dragon’s body with a reduction spell.

I had an idea. As High Priestess of Alastor, he had taught me a sacred sigil. A powerful sigil that could be imbued with magic—his divine magic. This would allow even simple humans to cast mighty spells. Of course, there was the sacrifice that came with the trade of such power. Everyone receiving the sigil would have a few years of their lifetime taken away. A minor inconvenience to borrow such a grand power on a holy task.

We waited for the onlookers to leave, fed up when they realized they couldn’t touch the dragon. Only our group remained around the body. I knew it was time to act when the guards finally went for the castle to bring claws to the king’s chancellor.

My heart raced as I rounded up fifty Miłonblooders. My fingers trembled as I dipped them into the still-warm blood pooling on the floor. We didn’t have much time.

I traced the sacred sigil on the clothes of my followers. As I did so, I prayed to Alastor, asking him to infuse the sigil with the telekinesis spell. We needed his help to accomplish his will. I was sure he’d hear me, but I hoped he’d answer quickly.

Time slowed as the sigil was traced over everyone, and I waited for my beloved god’s answer.

A breeze picked up, gentle at first, before becoming an intense wind, which seemed to do nothing but swirl around us. Debris and blood was swept into the wind, creating some kind of tornado barrier around us. It was good that we were alone, as this would have been quite the show for onlookers.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Alastor had granted us his help. Simultaneously, the blood sigils began to glow, and some of my followers touched their garments with curious fingers. It was now or never. We had only one chance.

I knew we couldn’t move the beast very far with the range of the spell, sixty feet at most. I ordered the remaining mages, mainly the Shadow Weavers, to concentrate on opening a portal to the ethereal planes. They began to chant the spell. At first, it was just a spark, floating twenty feet above the ground, close to the body. The spark stretched, forming an arc, sparks of magic shooting out like lightning. After a few seconds, a great portal tore through the night sky, leading to the misty, ethereal dimension.

I watched in awe as members of our great religion, filled with the power of Alastor’s sigil, carried the majestic corpse through the portal. Luckily, the beast’s wings were closed tight by the magic, as it wouldn’t have fitted through the portal if they were wide.

I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride in fulfilling Alastor’s will and prophecy. I knew deep down that nothing would stop me from achieving it.

I looked at the dragon’s body floating in the ethereal plane. Leaving it there at the border where the plane superposed ours was risky, as a real vision spell and some beings might detect it. Sending it further into the plane was also risky, as it could drift into the stormy immaterial plane, and we could lose the dragon.

I instructed our most potent mage, Dreven, to go to the ethereal plane and open another portal that led to a large cavern that served as our hidden place of worship. This was our best bet, and I hoped that using magical portals would allow the telekinesis spell to send the beast directly to our cavern, miles from Ichoryllia, well beyond the sixty feet of the spell.

Dreven was very strong and quickly opened the portal from the ethereal plane. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the dragon’s body make its way to the portal, still buoyed by the spell of the members of our religion. I relaxed when he was finally in the cavern, followed by Dreven—all with a few minutes to spare before the telekinesis spell dissipated. The wind around us died down, the blood and debris fell away, and the stillness of the night returned as if nothing had happened.

We’d done it. And there were no witnesses. Turning to the members of our two united cults, I instructed them, “Return to your homes and your rooms. Act normally. No one must be here when the guards notice the dragon’s absence.”

And so they all left, and I returned safely home with my father.

The alert went out that very evening, and the bells in the town tower rung. The soldiers, who hadn’t had a moment’s rest, came back, discovering the beast’s disappearance. A royal order, sent by the king’s chancellor since the king was away, offered a generous reward to anyone who found the body.

Snow began to fall as people searched everywhere for the corpse. I held my breath, hoping they wouldn’t find it. At last, the snow engulfed the night in a white silence, postponing any attempt to find the dragon’s corpse until the following day.

The search lasted several more days. Although it was concentrated in the city and the sewers, I asked our best mage to cast a concealment spell at the entrance to our cave to reduce the chances of people finding the beast. Fortunately, they never searched as far as our cavern, and after a while, people stopped looking. Rumors were whispered of the dragon’s sudden disappearance. Some thought it was the work of a demon, and I scoffed, knowing that divine intervention was responsible for the dragon’s disappearance. But people were ignorant, and it was for the best.

Of course, the Miłonblooders knew where the remains were all along, but we were all united. No one would have dared say anything, as Alastor’s wrath was unforgiving.

Chapter 1 (Nathan)

Long Lost Family

My wolf clawed at my insides as he had never done in centuries—shoving my vampiric powers aside—as I searched desperately for Emerald in every corner of the elven city. He kept repeating one word over and over again: “mate.” She was ours, rightfully ours, given by the Moon Goddess to cherish and protect. That part I understood as my mother and father had been fated mates. I didn’t know how I couldn’t feel it before—the fated mate bond was supposed to be incredibly powerful and impossible to resist. But now that Emerald was gone, the pain of her absence was tearing me apart.

Ever since she’d disappeared, I’d felt a deep sense of distress. My werewolf had awakened, and my vampire side was fighting against it, unhappy with this sudden push of the beast within me. The two curses clashed relentlessly, and there was a void inside me that I’d never felt before. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was finding Emerald. I’d deal with the changes in me later.

My legs seared with the strain of persistent running, yet the physical discomfort paled in comparison to the gaping hole that pierced my heart. I scoured every street and shadowy alley in my desperate search. The gazes of the people, their heads turning as I passed, were a stark reminder of my fruitless quest.

“Have you seen a woman with brown hair and green eyes?” I asked a few people.

But they hadn’t seen her and looked at me in amazement. To some, I was still a king, and a king didn’t run around in the streets. I tried to reason with myself and behave as a king should, but my wolf was in control, and he didn’t care about titles.

My leather armor was sweaty, and I was hot from the fierce search. The sun was setting, and I still couldn’t find her, my strength waning and my hunger growing. I refused to give up. Finding strength deep in my soul, I pushed forward, Xavier struggling to keep up. We turned back toward the herbalist shop. Darryl and Gustave had gone in search of Emerald too, but they hadn’t returned yet.

“Would you stop already?” asked Xavier, out of breath.

A growl escaped my chest, and the look I gave him was so deadly that he took a step back, regretting his question.

“I won’t stop until I’ve found her,” I replied through clenched teeth.

The half-vampire leaned against a lamppost to catch his breath. “You may be half-vampire, half-werewolf, but I’m not as strong as you. I need to eat and rest. I’m half-human.”

I knew it was true, but the beast in me refused to stop. “Then go back to the inn,” I challenged before turning to continue my search.

“And who’ll take care of you?” he retorted.

I turned to face him. The half-vampire wore a friendly smile, and I took a breath, reminding myself that the man only wanted the best for me. Calm down, I breathed to the wolf inside me. My chest was tight from the sorrow, but my vampiric side slowly forced the wolf back. As it did, I regained some of my self-composure and forced a smile.

“I appreciate your concern, but after more than three centuries, I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

Xavier replied, “True. But you’ve always had a vassal with you. This time, it’s different.”

My heart sped up at those words, and I answered, “I’ll find her.”

My voice was determined, but I couldn’t bear to think what would happen if I didn’t. No . . . It couldn’t be. I’d find her, and that would be that. I couldn’t live without her. I had to tell her I loved her. To think I had been ignorant enough not to see it. Guilt panged in my stomach when I remembered I had made her cry.

“What if you can’t find her tonight? What then?”

Xavier’s questions annoyed me. Couldn’t he let me search already? I knew I needed blood to survive. I didn’t need him to remind me.

“What do you think?” I huffed. “I’ll just find someone else and drink.”

“Any idea how you’ll find a human in an elven town?”

Xavier kept talking, but my vision blurred. A surge of emotions took hold of me. Memories flashed from all the times I’d fed from Emerald. My feelings and my intimate bond with her haunted me. For years, every time I drank from her, I felt like I was in a lover’s embrace, and I realize now that I was.

I knew I was emotional because of the wolf in me, and I had no idea how to deal with it other than to push him away. Doing so allowed me to get back to the need for blood. I needed to pull myself together.

“Are you even listening to me?” asked Xavier. “Snap out of it! We need to find you a human, or are you going to let yourself die from hunger?”

“Of course, I don’t intend to let myself die! How do you expect me to find Emerald if I’m dead?” I roared.

The man smirked. “That’s more like you. Well, then, what are you going to do?”

I didn’t know many people in the elven town and didn’t want to attack someone randomly as some vampires did. Sure, I could get to that point if I fell into bloodlust, but I wouldn’t let myself fall that low.

My lips curled as Xavier’s gaze changed, his eyes widening as he blurted out, “Oh no. Don’t even think about it! There’s no way I’m letting you drink from me. Besides, I’m a half-vampire, so I’m not even sure it would work, given your . . . condition.”

I chuckled at my friend’s reaction. He was right. Given that he was half-vampire, I wasn’t sure his blood would do the trick since I required human blood. “No, I wouldn’t drink from you. Still, the problem remains. I need to feed.”

The man was silent for a moment, then grinned. “I know exactly what you need.”

“What?” I asked, curious at the sudden change in Xavier’s mood.

His lip curled up. “Go back to the inn. I’ll meet you there in a few.”

I looked at him questioningly, but the man turned and disappeared further into the emerging darkness of the street. I could have caught up with him quickly, but decided to trust him.

My wolf was back to the depths of myself, shut down by my vampire side, and the pain from Emerald’s disappearance somewhat lessened. I would find her, even if I had to tear through every house in the town, even if it took me forever. Then I’d regain my throne.