Kieran’s body remained tethered to the cold stone floor of his cell, but his mind churned restlessly. The echoes of the First Bearer’s memories clung to him, his ancestor’s voice reverberating in his thoughts like a haunting refrain.
"How many more will you sacrifice in your quest to save them all?"
The words stung more than the Dominion’s chains ever could. He thought of Elira, her unwavering resolve to save him despite the curse consuming her. He thought of Lila, who had thrown herself into danger so they could press forward. And Viktor, silent and steadfast, yet burdened by his own grief and guilt.
Then there was Malrik.
Even in his imprisoned state, Kieran’s gut twisted at the thought of the vampire elder. Malrik had been instrumental in their rebellion, offering sanctuary and resources. But the cost of his aid had always been shrouded in ambiguity. Malrik didn’t help out of altruism—Kieran knew that much.
There were too many unanswered questions, and Kieran suspected that the Dominion’s strength was only part of their problem.
---
Elsewhere: Malrik’s Sanctuary
The ancient vampire sat in his dimly lit study, surrounded by shelves of forbidden tomes and artifacts pulsing faintly with eldritch energy. His crimson eyes glimmered as he traced his fingers over the pages of a brittle, leather-bound book.
A knock at the door broke his concentration.
“Enter,” Malrik called, his voice smooth yet commanding.
The door creaked open, and a young vampire stepped inside, bowing deeply. “Master Malrik, the Dominion’s forces are closing in. Their scouts were spotted near the eastern perimeter.”
Malrik didn’t look up from his book. “That’s hardly surprising. They’ve been growing bolder since they captured Kieran. Let them come.”
The young vampire hesitated. “But, my lord, if they discover our involvement—”
“They won’t,” Malrik interrupted sharply, snapping the book shut. “I have no intention of being implicated. As far as the Dominion is concerned, I am a neutral party. Kieran’s group was… a temporary indulgence.”
The vampire’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re abandoning them?”
Malrik rose from his chair, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the room. “Do not mistake pragmatism for disloyalty. My alliance with Kieran was always conditional. He serves a purpose, but if that purpose becomes untenable, I will not risk centuries of careful planning for a handful of desperate fugitives.”
The vampire nodded reluctantly, retreating from the room.
As the door closed, Malrik turned his gaze to a glowing orb on his desk. Within its swirling light, he saw glimpses of Kieran—bound, battered, but unbroken.
“Let’s see if you truly are the key, boy,” Malrik murmured, his lips curving into a sly smile.
---
Elira’s Infiltration
Elira crouched in the shadows of a crumbled wall, her breath fogging in the cold night air. The Dominion’s stronghold loomed ahead, its jagged towers piercing the sky like talons.
She adjusted the scarf around her face and glanced at Viktor, who knelt beside her, scanning the patrol patterns of the guards.
“There,” Viktor whispered, pointing to a gap in the wall where the stones had eroded. “It’s narrow, but we can slip through unnoticed.”
Elira nodded, her pulse quickening. Every fiber of her being screamed that Kieran was close, that she had to reach him before it was too late.
“You ready?” Viktor asked, his tone steady but tinged with concern.
Elira tightened her grip on the dagger at her hip. “I’m not leaving without him.”
They moved swiftly and silently, slipping through the breach in the wall and into the fortress’s labyrinthine corridors. The air inside was heavy with the scent of damp stone and iron.
As they crept deeper into the stronghold, Elira’s mind raced. She hadn’t told Viktor about the curse’s growing influence on her. The dark tendrils of its power were more insistent than ever, whispering promises of strength and vengeance.
She clenched her fists, willing herself to stay in control. Kieran needed her, and she wouldn’t let the curse consume her before she could save him.
---
Fractures
Kieran’s cell door creaked open again, and he braced himself for another round of Sorin’s sadistic games. But this time, it wasn’t the Dominion inquisitor who entered.
It was Malrik.
Kieran’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You,” he hissed, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”
Malrik smirked, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “You’re welcome, Kieran. You’ve no idea the lengths I’ve gone to for this little visit.”
Kieran’s hands clenched into fists despite the shackles. “What game are you playing, Malrik?”
Malrik’s expression turned grave as he stepped closer. “No game. I’m here to offer you a choice.”
Kieran glared at him. “I don’t trust you.”
“Good,” Malrik said, unbothered. “You shouldn’t. But the fact remains: I’m the only ally you have left with the resources to free you from this place.”
Kieran’s breath caught. “And what’s the price this time?”
Malrik’s eyes glimmered with an emotion Kieran couldn’t place—anticipation? Hunger? “Loyalty. Not just from you, but from the curse itself.”
Kieran’s stomach churned. “What are you talking about?”
Malrik leaned in, his voice low and deliberate. “The Dominion isn’t your true enemy, Kieran. The curse is. And if you don’t master it soon, it will destroy everything you hold dear.”
---
A Narrow Escape
Elira and Viktor reached the lower levels of the fortress, their path marked by a trail of unconscious guards.
“His cell should be close,” Viktor said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Elira’s heart pounded as they rounded a corner and spotted a pair of Dominion enforcers standing guard. Before Viktor could act, Elira stepped forward, her eyes glowing faintly as she unleashed a surge of energy.
The enforcers crumpled to the ground, their weapons clattering against the stone floor.
Viktor stared at her, his expression unreadable. “You’re pushing yourself too far.”
“I don’t care,” Elira snapped, her voice trembling with urgency. “He’s here. I can feel it.”
They reached the door to Kieran’s cell and found it ajar.
Inside, Kieran sat slumped against the wall, his head bowed. Malrik stood over him, his hand extended as if making an offer.
“Kieran!” Elira’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with relief.
Kieran’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw her. “Elira?”
Malrik turned, his expression unreadable. “Well, this is unexpected.”
“Get away from him,” Elira growled, her dagger drawn.
Malrik raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, my dear. I was merely having a conversation.”
Elira didn’t lower her weapon. “You’re lying.”
Kieran struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall. “Elira, wait. He… he might be telling the truth.”
Viktor frowned, stepping between Elira and Malrik. “What’s going on here, Kieran?”
Kieran’s gaze flicked between them, conflict evident in his eyes. “I don’t know. But if Malrik has his own agenda, we can’t trust him—or ignore him.”
Malrik chuckled, stepping toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your reunion. But remember, Kieran: time is running out. For all of us.”
As Malrik disappeared into the shadows, Elira rushed to Kieran’s side, helping him stay upright.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Kieran said, his voice weak but filled with gratitude.
“And you shouldn’t have gotten yourself captured,” Elira shot back, her tone light despite the tears in her eyes.
Viktor glanced toward the corridor. “We need to move. If Malrik’s here, the Dominion will be on high alert.”
As they fled the stronghold, Kieran couldn’t shake the feeling that Malrik’s words were more than manipulation. They were a warning.
And the fractures in their trust might cost them more than they could afford.