Page 17 of Vampire Solstice
I close the journal, my hands trembling. The room feels colder now, the weight of the truth pressing down on me. The Midnight Star who cursed this village may not have been me, but the legacy of her actions is now mine to bear.
The door creaks open, and Fen steps inside carrying two goblets of fresh blood.
I take one and drink deeply, the blood giving my magic and strength a definite boost. "Where did you find the blood? Or the goblets for that matter?"
Fen winks. "I have my ways. I think some of the villagers fear me more than the beast." He takes a deep drink of his own cup, then purses his lips. "Did you find anything useful?"
“Yes,” I whisper. “The village… they were cursed for refusing to help the Midnight Star during the war against Lucian. Their defender, Kael, was turned into the beast as punishment. He’s not a monster, Fen. He’s a victim.”
“And now?” he asks.
“Now,” I say, setting the goblet down, “I’ll need to channel the Midnight Star to win this battle. And you…” I meet his gaze, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “You’ll need to fight like the Moonlight Prince. The one who placed the curse is gone, yet something still sustains her magic. We need to find what. This isn’t about killing the beast. It’s about freeing him.”
Fen nods, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Then we’ll free him,” he says. “Together.”
The howl rises again, a haunting cry that shakes the very air around us. I grip Fen’s hand, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.
“Together,” I repeat, and the firelight flickers as we prepare to face the darkness once more.
Chapter 8
The Preparation
The air in the village is tense, crackling with fear and defiance. Snow swirls through the narrow streets as Fen and I make our way to the central square, where villagers gather in chaotic clusters. The sound of sharpening blades and the clatter of rusted armor fills the cold night air.
“They’re going to get themselves killed,” Fen mutters, his voice tight with frustration.
“They’re scared,” I reply, though I share his worry. “Fear makes people do reckless things.”
We step into the square, where a burly man—the same one who had accused Myra earlier—is rallying the crowd. “No more waiting!” he shouts, his voice carrying over the murmur of voices. “The beast will come, as it always does. But this time, we’ll be ready. We’ll kill it and end this curse ourselves.”
A chorus of agreement rises from the villagers, their faces set with grim determination. Pitchforks and rusted swords glint in the faint torchlight.
I step forward, raising my voice to address the crowd. “Listen to me!” I call, but my words are met with glares and muttered insults.
“Why should we listen to you?” a woman sneers, her knuckles white around the handle of a scythe. “You’re the Midnight Star. You’re the reason this happened to us.”
“That’s not true,” I say firmly, though the accusation cuts deep. “I’m here to help you. But if you face the beast like this, you’ll only get yourselves killed. Please, barricade yourselves inside…” My eyes scan the village. “There. The meeting hall. It’s the safest place, and we can defend it together.”
“Hide like cowards?” the burly man scoffs. “No. We’ve waited long enough. We’ll end this tonight.”
Fen steps beside me, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re not prepared for what’s coming. That beast is stronger, faster, and smarter than any of you realize. You won’t stand a chance.”
The man meets Fen’s gaze with a defiant glare. “We’ve faced it before. We’ll face it again.”
“And how many have you lost?” I ask, my voice soft but piercing. “How many more are you willing to sacrifice?”
A heavy silence falls over the crowd, but it’s short-lived. “You don’t belong here,” another voice calls out. “This isn’t your fight.”
Fen’s jaw tightens, but I place a hand on his arm, shaking my head. Arguing with them will only push them further away. “Do what you must,” I say, my voice resigned. “But when the beast comes, remember this: it doesn’t have to be this way.”
We leave the square, the weight of their stubbornness settling heavily on my shoulders. Back in the relative quiet of the cottage, I set the journal on the table, its pages worn and familiar. I’ve read it twice already, but I flip through it again, searching for anything I might have missed.
Fen stands by the window, his silhouette framed by the frost-covered glass. He’s watching the square, his expression unreadable. “They’re fools,” he says after a long silence.
“They’re desperate,” I reply, though my voice lacks conviction. I turn back to the journal, my fingers brushing over the passage about the Midnight Star’s curse. “There has to be something we’re not seeing.”
My gaze drifts to the statue of the Midnight Star in the square, visible through the window. Its weathered surface glows faintly in the torchlight, the figure’s outstretched hand pointing toward the forest.