Page 41 of Vampire Blood

But the witch was behind me now, her hands on my shoulders, grounding me. “It’s already begun,” she said. “You must be ready.”

I turned to face her, panic clawing up my throat. “How? I don’t know what to do! I’m not—”

“You are,” she cut in, her voice suddenly sharp. “You carry my blood. My power. You must face him.”

I shook my head, but she tightened her grip. “Wake up, Annika,” she said. “Before it’s too late.”

I woke with a gasp, the chill of the earth seeping into my bones. My palms pressed against rough stone, and as I pushed myself upright, the world around me came into focus.

Ruins.

Broken pillars jutted from the ground like jagged teeth, their edges worn smooth by time. The stone beneath me was cracked and uneven, covered in veins of moss and creeping ivy. Shadows pooled in the crevices, and the air was thick with damp earth and something older, something ancient.

I didn’t remember how I’d gotten here. Did my dream lead me here?

My legs ached, my hands were scraped raw, and dirt clung to my skin. But none of it mattered. My gaze was drawn ahead, to the center of the ruins, where a dark, gaping hole waited.

The stairwell.

It spiraled down into the ground, carved from the same stone as the ruins, and it felt wrong. Too perfect. Too deliberate. The steps disappeared into blackness, the kind that seemed to swallow light and sound.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

No sane person would go down there. Everything about it screamed danger, whispered warnings that prickled at the edges of my thoughts. And yet, I couldn’t move away.

I stepped closer, my breath catching as my feet found the edge of the first step. The air that drifted up was cold and damp, carrying the scent of earth and something metallic, sharp. My fingers brushed the stone wall, feeling the grooves carved into its surface. Symbols, runes I couldn’t read but somehow recognized.

Blood magic.

It was the same power I’d felt in my dreams, the same pulse that had hummed through the witch’s words. It called to me now, a whisper in my veins, urging me down.

I tried to resist. My body trembled, every instinct begging me to turn back. But my feet moved anyway, step by step, the darkness pulling me deeper.

The air thickened as I descended, pressing in around me like a living thing. The stairwell spiraled endlessly, the faint light from above swallowed by the dark. My fingers brushed the damp stone walls, steadying me as I moved deeper.

When the stairs ended, the passage narrowed. The walls pressed closer, and I had to duck in places where the ceiling dipped low. It was colder here, the kind of cold that settled in your bones and didn’t let go.

The corridor twisted and turned, branching off into other paths, all of them shrouded in shadows. I hesitated at each fork, but something always drew me the right way, an invisible thread pulling me deeper into the maze.

Time lost meaning. My breaths echoed, too loud in the stillness, and my pulse became the only measure of the seconds passing.

Then I saw it.

A door, or what had once been a door. It was stone, covered in cracks and carved with runes, like the ones above. But this time, they glowed faintly, their edges tinged red, as if pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat. My heartbeat.

I pressed my palm against the center. The stone was cool, vibrating faintly under my touch.

The door groaned, the sound vibrating through my bones. Dust rained down as it shifted, splitting open just enough for me to slip through.

The chamber beyond swallowed me whole.

It wasn’t large, but it felt vast. The walls curved inward, the ceiling domed, and in the center, a stone sarcophagus lay raised on a platform. Chains draped over it, thick, rusted links that gleamed faintly despite the dark.

I stepped closer, unable to stop myself.

The symbols carved into the sarcophagus matched the runes above, but these glowed brighter; they burned red and gold, as if alive. I reached out, my fingers trembling as they hovered above the surface.

Power thrummed against my skin.

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