Page 5 of Vampire Solstice
When I open my eyes,the first thing I notice is the cold—sharp, invasive, and nothing like the chill of the throne room. The stone beneath me is rougher, jagged, and damp with frost. My breath puffs out in front of me, misty and quick as panic sets in.
This isn’t High Castle.
I push myself up, my palms stinging from the raw texture of the ground. We are at the center of a village courtyard. The dying Mythos Tree nearly collapsing against a giant statue.
A fae woman on the back of a dragon, sword held high.
The Midnight Star. But not me, I realize. A predecessor. Or at least a representation of one. The statue hasn’t been maintained well.
“Where… where are we?”My voice comes out hoarse, the words barely above a whisper.
Fen is already on his feet, his stance rigid, every muscle coiled with tension. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade as he scans the quiet village. “Not anywhere familiar,” he mutters. His voice is as sharp as the frostbitten air. “This place… it feels wrong. Cursed.”
I can feel it too, a heavy weight pressing down on me. It’s not just the cold—it’s the air itself, thick and humming with the same strange energy that pulsed through the Mythos. My chesttightens as I glance around, searching for any sign of something familiar. I call upon my magic, trying to summon Yami, but he does not appear. How could that be?
Fen’s eyes narrow, his gaze fixed on a section of wall where the stone has been stripped bare, frost creeping up its surface like veins. “This isn’t any of the villages in Inferna, Avakiri or the Outlands that I’ve seen,” he says. “Look at the architecture. It’s older. And the stars…” He looks up at the darkening sky. “They’re wrong.”
I follow his gaze, shivering as a sky I don’t recognize. I think of my first time in this world, the first time I learned other worlds existed. How the sky was the most unsettling part of it all.. The constellations were different, alien, their strange patterns stirring unease in my gut.
Just as now.
“What does this mean?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. My thoughts race to the Mythos, to the curse. And then to my daughter.
“Our baby,” I choke out, my breath catching. “I sent someone to make sure she was safe, but what if—what if the curse reached her too?”
Fen steps closer, his hand brushing my arm. “Ari,” he says firmly, his voice grounding me. “Baron and Yami are with her. Kayla is there. They’ll protect her.”
I nod, clinging to his words like a lifeline, but the doubt lingers.
A sudden sound tears through the silence—a deep, guttural howl that seems to reverberate through the stones themselves. My heart leaps into my throat as I instinctively move closer to Fen.
“What was that?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Something that doesn’t want us here,” Fen says grimly. He draws his blade, the familiar ring of steel against leatherbringing a fleeting sense of security. “We need to find shelter. Now.”
I nod, forcing my legs to obey even as the fear weighs them down. But as we move toward the buildings of the village, the wind picks up, sudden and ferocious. Snow and ice lash against us, the air shifting from bitter cold to unbearable.
“A blizzard?” I shout over the roar of the wind. “Out of nowhere?”
Fen shields me as best he can, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. “It’s not natural,” he growls. “Stay close.”
The storm intensifies, the snow thick and relentless, obscuring everything beyond a few feet. The cold cuts through my gown and cloak, biting into my skin like tiny daggers.
“There!” Fen points through the storm, his sharp gaze catching something I can barely make out—a cluster of dark shapes huddled together in the distance. Small, squat cottages sag under the heavy weight of snow. As we approach, a young fae boy, no older than eight, freezes. His eyes wide, he turns and runs, disappearing into a nearby cottage. “Well, that’s not ominous,” I mutter, my breath visible in the freezing air.
Fen’s hand tightens on his blade as he surveys the cottages. “Stay alert. We don’t know who—or what—lives here.”
Before we can move, the door to the boy’s cottage creaks open. A young woman steps out, her face pale but resolute. Her brown cloak flutters in the wind as she hurries toward us. She’s dressed in drab, beige clothing, except for a single spot of color in her hair. A bright red ribbon with one end fraying like it had been torn.
“You…” Her voice trembles, her words barely audible over the storm. “You must come with me.”
I exchange a wary glance with Fen. “Who are you?” I ask.
She hesitates, her gaze darting between us and the storm. “I’m Myra. My grandmother… she said you would come. There isn’t much time.”
Her words hang heavy in the air, laden with urgency I can’t ignore. I glance at Fen again, his expression unreadable, but he gives a slight nod.
“Take us to her,” I say, pulling my cloak tighter around me.