Page 47 of Vampire Blood

She stood at the edge of my vision, wreathed in shadow, her dark hair wild around her face. Her eyes—my eyes—burned like embers, and her lips moved, though I couldn’t hear what she said.

Her hand lifted, reaching toward me, beckoning.

That was when the darkness peeled away slowly, like fog lifting at dawn. My feet touched solid ground, or something that felt like it, and the world around me shifted, smoothing into focus.

I stood in a clearing bathed in silver light, surrounded by towering trees whose branches arched high above me, forming a natural cathedral. The air was thick, humming with energy, alive and ancient.

There, in the center of it all, stood the witch.

She was as I remembered her. Tall, ethereal, with dark hair falling like silk around her shoulders. Her eyes glowed faintly, ancient and knowing, but there was a weariness in them now, as if the weight of centuries had finally caught up to her.

In that moment, I knew her. I knew of her.

Niram. That was her name.

“You came,” she said softly, her voice echoing in the endless void around us.

“I didn’t know I had a choice,” I whispered back. My voice felt too small, too fragile here.

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No. You didn’t.”

I swallowed, stepping closer, though the space between us felt vast. “You helped me,” I said. “Back in the crypt... That was you.”

She inclined her head, but I could see the strain in her expression now. “I gave you what I could.”

Her words felt heavy, final. I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means I am no more.” Her voice was calm, but the truth of it slammed into me like a stone. “That was the last of me… what little power I kept for the direst of moments.”

I shook my head, panic clawing at my chest. “No, no, you’re still here. You’re talking to me now—”

“A shadow of what I was,” she cut in gently. “An echo. Nothing more.”

Her words left me cold. “Then what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to stop this?”

Her gaze softened. “You already know the answer.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died before I could speak. I did know. Somewhere deep inside, the answer had been waiting, growing stronger with every step I took toward this moment.

“Aurelius,” I said, the name tasting bitter.

The witch nodded. “He stirs even now. The blood they took from you... it’s waking him. It’s only a matter of time.”

I felt my heart drop. “But I don’t know how to stop him.”

“You will,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor of fading light around her. “You must.”

Her words felt more like a sentence than encouragement, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Tell me how.”

She stepped closer, and suddenly her hands were cupping mine. They were solid, warm, despite the fading glow of her form. “You are stronger than you believe, Annika. But power without resolve is meaningless. Remember that.”

I clenched my fingers around hers. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered.

Her smile softened. “I was never meant to stay.”

The light around her flickered, dimming, and I felt her slipping away.

“Wait!” I cried out, desperation clawing at my throat. “Please!”

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