Page 18 of A Touch of Darkness

I sift through my thoughts, attuned to the subtle shifts in the air. “She isn’t fond of me, Dorian,” I continue, my words more a statement of fact than anything else. “From the brief moments we’ve shared, it’s clear enough. I stir things in her that she cannot possibly comprehend. Not yet. A discomfort clings to her like a security blanket when I’m near, a palpable tension that gnaws at her bones. She’s not yet open to the truths I would reveal to her, but she feels them, nonetheless. And that, I think, is enough for now.”

“But you will tell her eventually?”

I hesitate, my gaze fixed on the glass in my hand. “What purpose would it serve? To burden her with a history she cannot change, a connection she cannot fathom?”

Dorian’s laugh is soft but biting. “Ah, Lucian. Your humanity is showing. Always so noble, so reluctant to embrace the chaosof the heart. Perhaps you fear what she might remember, rather than what she might feel.”

His words cut deeper than I care to admit, but I refuse to let my old friend see it. “This is not about the past,” I say, my tone firm, but my gaze shifts, dark and restless. “It is about the present. The Solstice Society is moving, and if they’ve set their sights on Sylvie, we cannot afford to wait indolently for their next move. I am nearly certain they believe they’ve found their golden ticket with her.”

I pause, my words settling heavily on my shoulders. A shadow of guilt lingers, one I cannot escape. I failed her once, and despite the seemingly endless years between that moment and this, I feel a duty, a sense of obligation to her. She stands before me, unknowingly entangled in a web of destiny she is too young to understand, and I will not allow history to repeat itself. Not again.

Her blood holds a power I cannot yet gauge, and the Solstice Society—well, they will see it as a weapon. They will seeheras a weapon, as they always do. They don’t care about the consequences. All they care about is exploiting her. Ending us. They’ll use her, twist her to their will, and destroy everything in their path. If they get to her before I can reach her...

I can't let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

And then there's the prophecy I’ve studied for countless ages. The one that haunts the dark corners of my mind, the one that speaks of a “hunter born of twins.” Sylvie is no mere mortal as she suspects, as her parents obviously allowed her to believe—there’s something in her, something ancient and powerful, that binds her to a fate she cannot escape. Her parents, too. And they kept it from her for all these years. What a dangerous game they played.

If she’s truly the one Solstice seeks, they’ll stop at nothing to shape her for their twisted purposes. And I... I know what it isto be used, to be a pawn in someone else’s game. I won’t let her endure that fate.

“And what is it about her that draws them so?” Dorian asks, his curiosity genuine. “We know her past, but it seems as if they think they can predict her future.”

“That,” I say, setting my glass down, “is what I intend to fully discover.”

I’ve been studying her lineage for years, waiting on her time in the world because I’ve always known the Society would use her for their own gain.

I just never expected she’d be a reincarnate of someone so deeply and intimately intertwined with my own soul. Perhaps, through my insanity, through my undying obsession, I’ve shaken up fate.

I’ve brought her directly to me.

I fail to know what Solstice fully plans to do with her. But I will find out. The room seems to pulse around us, the music and the feeding blending into a singular, hypnotic tempo. A human girl passes by, her neck marked by fresh punctures, her smile dazed but satisfied—because it is, of course, as much of a high for them as it is for us. Dorian watches her with a detached amusement before turning back to me.

“You care for the girl,” he says simply.

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Care is a dangerous word.”

“Dangerous, yes. But true.”

Silence stretches between us, leaden with unspoken truths. Around us, the club continues its revelry, a sanctuary for creatures like us who have seen too much, lost too much, and yet cannot bring themselves to look away.

At last, Dorian speaks again, his tone lighter. “Very well, then. If you wish to unravel this mystery, I will stand by you. Though I suspect you’ll find more than you bargained for.”

I offer him a faint smile, one that does not feel genuine in the slightest. “When have I ever sought anything less?”

Dorian laughs, the sound rich and unrestrained, and for a moment, the heaviness of the night seems to lift, and we are younger versions of ourselves. Younger and much less tame. Memories with Dorian flash in my mind, but I don’t allow them to settle.

I glance around the room, my gaze lingering on the humans who offer their blood so freely and the vampires who take it without hesitation.

Sylvie Rosenthal is more than a meager thread in this tapestry. She is the axis upon which the wheel turns, the skeleton key to a history that refuses to be forgotten. And I, bound by a duty I cannot forsake, will not allow her to fall into the hands of those who would see her destroyed.

The past is written in blood, yes. But the future—hers, mine, ours—remains unwritten.

For now.

The sun creeps through the curtains, casting slivers of light across my dorm room. My mind churns in a haze of confusion and unease. The fragments of yesterday’s conversations echo in my head—the pieces that don’t make sense, the pieces that I wish I could ignore but can’t.

I’m not human.

Or, maybe I am? But I have abilities?

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