Page 33 of Gua rdian of Blood and Shadow

“Isador?” I asked, my voice resonant and ethereal. “What do I do?”

But before she could respond, the reflection of the moon in the pool warped, the water beginning to swirl, the distorted image of the moon spreading through the water until it looked like liquid mercury.

“What’s happening?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” Isador said, her voice hushed. “This is unprecedented.”

But I barely heard her. Because there, emerging from the swirling pool of liquid moonlight, was a figure so insubstantial I almost didn’t recognize her. Unlike the clear manifestations of the other spirits, she appeared more like smoke given form. Veris had scattered her ashes to the wind, leaving her nothing to anchor to, yet somehow, she was here.

“Mom,” I whispered, the word catching in my throat.

Her presence hit me harder than any physical blow. Memories I’d buried beneath years of survival instincts surfaced—her fingers combing through my hair while humming lullabies, the scent of herbs that lingered on her after she spent time in the garden, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

The question burned in my chest: Did you know what would happen to me? Did you see the cold nights, the hunger, the hands that would touch me when I had nothing left to bargain with?

“My shining girl,” she whispered, her voice carrying on the wind. “I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to scream at her, to demand answers for every scar I’d earned in her absence. Instead, I reached for her with trembling fingers. “I needed you,” I managed, the words raw and inadequate for the ocean of loss between us.

The moonlight pulsed brighter, and I felt something stirring beneath my feet. It rose through me like sap through a tree, filling every cell with ancient power. My skin felt translucent, the light literally shining through me.

“Mom,” I repeated, reaching for her ghostly form. But when our fingers should have touched, she pulled back, her expression turning from love to urgency.

“There isn’t time,” she said. “The shadow comes, and you’re not ready. Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, fighting to stay upright as more power poured into me. “Please, tell me what to do!”

Her form flickered like a fragile flame. “Trust your instincts,” she said, each word heavy with prophecy. “Trust what you are becoming. Blood remembers, even if you don’t.”

The moonlight wasn’t just bending toward me anymore; it was part of me, as natural as my own heartbeat.

“My shining girl,” my mom repeated. “The truth lives within you. Remember.”

The words triggered something deep inside me, like a key turning in a lock I hadn’t known existed. The power surged higher, and I cried out as silver light exploded from my skin in waves.

19

Istoodinanancientforest clearing beneath a blood-red moon. The ground beneath my bare feet felt raw, alive with memory that both was and wasn’t mine. Bodies littered the earth—human and something other—while survivors ringed a central point, their skin marked with grime, open wounds, and dried blood. The air itself was saturated with power that burned my lungs.

“The truth lives within you. Remember.” My mother’s voice whispered through me, as integral a part of me as my own heartbeat. The words settled into my bones as a smoky darkness poured from a tear in reality—not just shadow, but something that consumed light itself.

Creatures with too many limbs and eyes that burned with hunger spilled forth, led by a presence that made my soul recoil. Not fully formed, more concept than being. Hunger given form. Malice made manifest.

I wanted to run, but I found myself rooted in place. Three luminous figures faced the tide of darkness—one shining like captured moonlight, one blazing like the sun, one glowing with the gentle radiance of scattered stars. Their combined light merged, flaring so brightly it hurt to look directly at them. Yet I couldn’t turn away. They moved among a gathered crowd, their chosen people. They touched the foreheads of their chosen, who fell to their knees as divine power transformed them.

The silvery figure’s touch left crescent marks that shimmered beneath the skin of her chosen, covering one side of their faces. The golden one’s touch ignited a primal fire, something that could shift and change within its host. The third’s touch called forth the elements and bound them to her chosen’s will.

My breath caught as understanding dawned. I was witnessing the birth of the three immortal races. The first vampires rose with silver light coursing through their veins. The first shifters roared as golden power reshaped their flesh. The first elementals wove the very air into protective barriers, shielding them all from the corruptive shadow.

The scene blurred, time accelerating.

The combined forces drove back the shadow, sealing the breach with magic that cost many lives. The three radiant figures grew dimmer, giving more and more of their divine essence to their chosen, each sacrificing something essential to secure victory.

“Remember,” my mother’s voice echoed again as the scene shifted.

A grand chamber materialized around me, filled with representatives from all three Houses. Peace, briefly, before the shadow crept in, bringing arguments and accusations. A shifter losing control, transforming into something monstrous that tore through vampires and elementals alike. More shifters following suit, consumed by mindless bloodlust that turned their eyes and hearts black.

A vampire and an elemental stood together, hands joined as they wove moonlight and starlight into a pattern that resonated within my blood. The curse. The reason for the war between vampires and shifters. The reason Veris had killed my family. The magic wrapped around the shifters, settling into their blood, their bones, their souls.

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