Page 25 of A Touch of Madness

“You see,” Viago purred, “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive. Word travels fast when someone is fool enough to believe they can end this war through talk. I knew you’d show up eventually, compelled by your inflated sense of heroics.”

He strode forward, and before I could move, his boot collided with my chest. The impact forced me back, and I lost my footing on the slick marble, crashing to my knees in a pool of blood. Pain tore through my ribs, but I refused to look away.

“Now,” Viago continued, circling me, “I give you a choice: your life… or theirs.” He gestured to the humans, who stared at me with desperate eyes. Some of them were children, no older than fifteen. Their fear was palpable, fueling my own.

My stomach knotted, horror and guilt spiraling within me. “You can’t force this on me. Let them go, Viago. I’m the one you want, not them.”

“Oh, but I can force anything I wish.” He crouched beside me, blade still in hand, blood glistening at its tip. “Swear yourself to me. To the vampires. To doing what is right and joining a faction, living among your own kind. Do as I command. Then I’ll let them walk free.”

In that moment, I understood I was cornered. If I refused, these innocents would die. If I submitted, I would be giving up my will, tethering myself to a monster. But the alternative—the thought of hearing those children scream—was unthinkable.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, my voice nearly failing me. “I… I’ll do it,” I whispered, staring at the faces of the captives. “Just don’t hurt anyone else.”

Viago’s smirk deepened. He seized my hair, yanking my head back to bare my throat. I heard the rasp of his blade against my skin, felt the press of cold metal. For a sickening second, I wondered if he’d kill me anyway. But instead, he cut a thin line just beneath my collarbone. My blood welled up, and he dipped his fingers into it like ink, drawing some ancient, dark sigil on my skin.

“You belong to me now,” Viago murmured, eyes locked on mine. There was triumph dancing in his gaze. “Through this blood, our bond is sealed. Your life, your freedom—mine to command.”

I shuddered, barely registering the pain, too hollow inside to protest. All around me, the moans of the dying human captives slowly faded, replaced by muffled sobs as they realized they might yet survive. But it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like the end of everything I stood for.

Viago rose, snapping at his subordinates to stand down. He gestured for the uninjured among them to start hauling bodies aside. “You have your precious peace—for tonight,” he said. “But tomorrow, we rebuild on my terms.”

I knelt there, drenched in the blood of strangers, tears of shame and guilt sliding down my cheeks. The humans were allowed to leave, stumbling out of that cursed hall into the night—but I stayed. I had no choice. From that day forward, my life belonged to Viago, and every step I took was chained to his ambition.

The last thing I remember before consciousness slipped into an exhausted haze was Viago’s low chuckle echoing across the marble floors, the tang of blood filling my lungs, and a single, crushing realization:

In trying to save them, I’d damned myself.

“This is how it began,”I say, my voice echoing through the memory. “My debt to him—to Viago, the faction leader for the Ascendancy. I vowed to live my life by vampire code and no longer worry myself with humans or their needs—or trying to save them from our people. I had to choose to join a faction.”

Sylvie gasps beside me, her hand tightening in mine. “And you chose the Midnight Alliance? Why was it so important to Viago that you side with the vampires?”

“That’s something I’ll never know. Over the years, he has said he saw potential in me. He wanted me with the Ascendancy, but I could never abide by their oppressive one-party lifestyle. At the time, there were only two: the Unbound and the Ascendency. Dorian and I, having long been friends even at that point, founded the Midnight Alliance as a middle ground. Unbound were feral and atrocious beings who wanted, and still want, humans to be their livestock. The Ascendency want to rule this godforsaken world with their tyrannical thinking. But we, the Midnight Alliance, have always aimed for peace among all sides. Between supernatural factions, between humans and supernaturals. We don’t believe in harming people because we can.”

Silence stretches between us and the quiet hum of reality presses against me—the muted ticking of the clock, the faint flicker of the overhead lights, and the steady rhythm of Sylvie’s breathing. But I can still feel the echoes of the past clinging to me, the weight of Viago’s smirk, the blood-soaked floor, the crushing failure that sealed my bond to him.

I look at Sylvie, and the expression on her face isn’t one I deserve. Horror lingers in her widened eyes as she tries to wrap her mind around everything, but it’s softened by pity—a pity that cuts deeper than any blade.

“You’re not the man in that memory,” she says softly, her voice like a balm I have no right to. “If you would have had your way, you’d have ended everything right then and there.”

“No,” I murmur, the word laced with bitterness. “But I still carry his sins. Monsters never forget their wrongdoings. And I’ll never forget the fact that I had to choose to live, and in order to do that, I bound myself with Viago for eternity. He believes he can use me in his game.”

I don’t tell her, not yet, that he also wants to use her.

Sylvie doesn’t move, but I can feel the weight of her gaze, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the fog in my mind. Her silence stretches thin, the kind that demands more without uttering a single word.

She takes a cautious step forward. “You showed me this for a reason. Why does this matter now? Why is he resurfacing?”

I look away, my jaw tightening. The question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. The past isn’t something I enjoy revisiting, let alone sharing. But Viago’s shadow has always loomed large, and now he’s set his sights on her. Whether or not she knows the specifics of his threats, she has a right to understand the noose tightening around me—and, by extension, her.

“Viago,” I begin slowly, “is not the kind of man who forgets a debt. He thrives on leverage, on power. And centuries ago, I gave him exactly what he needed to own me. Yes, I bent his rules a bit by creating a new faction and not joining his, but still, I sided with the vampires all the same.”

Sylvie crosses her arms, her fingers gripping the sleeves of her sweater. “What kind of debt are we talking about? You said it was blood—what does that even mean?”

I glance at her, noting the way her brows knit together, the way her lips press into a thin line as she waits. I can’t tell if she’s horrified or intrigued, but perhaps it’s both.

“Blood,” I say, my voice low, “iscurrencyin our world. It binds us, seals promises, and ties us to one another in ways that can never truly be severed. It’s ancient magic, the kind that predates the curses and wars. When I made that deal with Viago, I offered my blood willingly as payment. It was the only way to secure the outcome I needed at the time.”

Her frown deepens. “What outcome?”

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