As night fell, I returned to my hotel room. The evening at the lodge had left me charged with energy, my mind restless with questions, eager to uncover more of the cosmic mysteries.
I tossed and turned in bed, unease coiling in my chest like smoke I couldn't quite dispel. Was it just rookie nerves? Doubts fluttered through me. Thin, relentless as moths battering against glass. But even the boldest heroes stumble at the start, I reminded myself. Doubt was a companion, not an enemy. I would learn to walk beside it.
The weeks rushed past in a blur of new experiences. Balancing my duties at the apothecary with my studies at the lodge was a challenge, but one that quickened my spirit. The lodge itself became a sanctuary where the veil between the ordinary and the extraordinary thinned until it almost disappeared. Each day I returned, hungry for the next lesson, the next glimpse beyond.
The initial training was deceptively simple, yet exhausting in its own way. Much of it took place in stillness: observing the endless chatter of one's own thoughts without being carried away, visualizing the four elements until they became more than symbols, and practicing small exercises of focus that sharpened the five senses through sheer imagination. At times we were asked to draw in vital energy with the breath, to feel it gather and swirl in the body. The effort often left me drowsy, my mind drifting between sleep and clarity.
Victor, along with a handful of others, guided me patiently through these first steps, correcting my posture, reminding me when my attention wandered, and offering his quiet humor when I grew frustrated. Beyond the lodge, I was encouraged to live differently as well-bathing and eating with full awareness, keeping to habits of order and hygiene as if every gesture carried weight. Discussions of theory came occasionally, though rarely: brief talks on the principles of magic, the discipline of will, and the responsibilities that came with even the smallest glimpse of power. These lessons, I began to realize, were as much about reshaping the self as they were about learning anything that resembled sorcery.
I thought my initiation would be filled with visions, secret words, and doors swinging open to hidden worlds. Instead, the first weeks felt plain, almost disappointingly so. They gave me a small leather-bound book and told me to write down every thought that passed my mind at the same hour each night. Doubts, irritations, fleeting wishes, nothing was too small. "Know yourself first," they said.
Each morning began with silence. I was told to sit straight, feet to the floor, eyes open, and breathe. Just breathe. My mind ran everywhere - lists of herbs I needed at the apothecary, things I should have said to Emrys, Victor's quiet smirk in the meeting hall - but the rule was not to fight the thoughts. Simply notice them, then let them go.
The weeks deepened. I learned to hold an image in my mind without letting it scatter: a flame that would not flicker, a pool of water that would not ripple, a gust of wind frozen in still air. Sometimes I lasted only a few seconds before my thoughts strayed, but on rare mornings the image stayed long enough to feel alive.
Food, they told me, must be taken without distraction. I had to chew slowly, tasting each grain as though it carried meaning. Even bathing became a task of intention: wash the hands, wash the face, wash away the day.
None of it felt like magic. Not yet. But I began to understand what they meant. Before they would trust me with anything more, I had to learn the shape of my own mind.
Which was certainly not easy. It was boring as hell. I did my best not to fall asleep.
A few days ago, Emrys at last came back from his long absence. A colleague, yes, but also a dear friend. He had gone to care for a sick relative in a distant village, and his return brought me an almost guilty relief. With him back, the burden of work eased, freeing me for the lodge. My path was clearer now.
My initiation would last six months. During that time, Mr. Dagron and the other officials would test me in every way, weighing my readiness with a scrutiny I could almost feel already. The road was long, but they promised it was necessary.
As days blurred into nights, I began to notice subtle changes within myself. The world seemed sharper somehow, more alive. The colors became deeper, sounds richer, even the air hummed faintly with energy I had never perceived before. It felt as if a veil had lifted, revealing hidden currents beneath ordinary reality.
Through these heightened senses, I caught glimpses of the fourth dimension. It was not the ethereal paradise I had imagined, but a shadowed mirror of our world, layered with shapes and presences that unsettled me. Victor told me that what I had seen was the lower part only.
Night after night, I drifted into sleep only to confront visions that gnawed at my certainty. Strange figures appeared and vanished, landscapes twisted and impossible, and a sense of being observed clung to me even when I awoke.
The members of the Covenant assured me that such disturbances were a normal part of the path I had chosen. To protect myself, I learned to construct simple protective spells, visualizing a circle of light before sleep that would keep harm at bay.
Recently, a figure had begun to appear in my dreams, always at a distance, always watching. A man wrapped in darkness, his face hidden, yet somehow I felt his eyes on me, like he was spying. Sometimes, his presence lingered even when I woke, in the early hours before the sun had risen, as if he were in the room with me. His energy was... unnatural, not human, though perhaps that was my own senses sharpening over time.
Maybe these beings had always been around, and I was only now noticing them. I hoped, not for the first time, that the dreams would end soon.
One evening, I returned to my hotel room, exhausted from a long day at the apothecary. The moment I stepped inside, a shiver ran down my spine. Something felt... off. My instincts screamed that someone-or something-was there.
Instinctively, I clutched my amulet. A thief? An intruder? A pink werewolf?
The room looked exactly as I had left it. Still, the air felt heavy, almost viscous, pressing against my senses. I realized, with a sinking sense of annoyance, that I really should have cast a protective spell before leaving for work, or the lodge, for that matter. I tiptoed around the room, scanning every corner, every shadow, my pulse quickening. Nothing. No one.
I heaved a deep sigh when suddenly, I felt an unmistakably strong presence of someone. Could it be Victor Darkstone, going to my hotel room once again, unannounced?
Then, from behind me, a voice broke the silence. Smooth, velvety, and almost amused, it sent a jolt through my nerves. "Ah... greetings, Miss Masha Montclair. Quite the fascinating endeavor you've embarked upon, wouldn't you agree?"
I spun around, heart hammering, and froze.
He was not certainly Victor. It's a man who hadn't been there a moment before. His presence was suffocating, as if his mere energy was trying to choke you or absorb all air in the room. There was something bloody about him, an inner darkness wrapped in a faintly glowing red aura that seemed to spill from the edges of him into the room.
His dark auburn hair fell loosely around his shoulders, tied casually at the nape of his neck, framing pale, almost grayish skin. His eyes were a strange shade of red, it seemed to me under the moonlight, and they gleamed with mischief and something darker, like a predator who found its prey which could not escape. He wore a long, dark coat that hinted at a lean, powerful frame, elegant without ceremony. My breath caught. He wasn't a vision of the spiritual realm. This was real.
And for some strange reason, he looked horribly familiar.
"Who—what are you?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt, stepping back, clutching my amulet like it could anchor me to reality. My hands shook, betraying me.
He titled his head slightly, the gesture polite but teasing. "You must know me," he said, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, carrying a dry amusement that made my skin prickle.
I stared, pinching myself just to be certain I wasn't dreaming. The air around him seemed to pulse, carrying a subtle promise of danger. He bowed slightly, a smirk ghosting his lips.
"Er...no. Tell me your name," I replied.
"My true name is neither known to mortals nor meant to be spoken by them," he said. "But you may address me by the name I have worn through the ages—Nikolai."
I blinked, a mix of surprise and unease stirring within me. His name lingered in my mind like a half-remembered echo, familiar yet entirely alien. I had no reason to know it, yet it sparked a shiver of recognition I couldn't explain.
He studied me with a curious tilt of his head, his gaze piercing yet oddly measured. "You need not fear me, Masha. You have done me a service by waking me from that endless slumber."
I froze on my spot, trying to recall when I had seen him. I was certain that I had seen that face before. Then, I gasped softly at the sudden realization.
This man was the same person I saw back in the old dungeon!
Instinctively, my hand went to the dagger in my bag, which was charged with magic, a protection against any being foolish enough to threaten me.
He noticed, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Please, put that away. I mean no harm. Why are you so fearful?" His dark, reddish eyes, like glowing rubies, bore into mine, flickering with dark amusement. "You are a magician, are you not? Brave enough to confront demons and spirits most would flee from. And yet here you are, trembling before me."
I hesitated, keeping my grip tight. His words were strange, almost teasing, yet they carried a weight I couldn't dismiss.
"You speak like some demonic being," I shot back, though my voice betrayed the tremor in my chest. "What else should I believe, when you appear from darkness with eyes like that?"
"I am no demon," he said, his voice softening before curling into a low, sardonic lilt. "I've never harmed anyone who did not earn it. Nor would I waste cruelty on the one bold—or foolish—enough to awaken me." His eyes glimmered, a dangerous playfulness in their depths. "Those with wisdom know better than to provoke what they do not understand."
I focused, attempting to read his aura. The sensation hit me like a physical force. Dark, bloody energy swirling around him, potent yet controlled, suffocating yet fascinating. My head spun slightly from the intensity. He was no ordinary human, nor a demon or fallen angel. If this was the man I had glimpsed in the dungeon, then he was something else entirely. Powerful, dangerous, and undeniably clever.
No, this can't be real. What if the Shadow Covenant was behind all of this? What if they were using controlled spirits to test me?
Nikolai's gaze was fixed, blank yet piercing, as if waiting for my next move. I raised my dagger, pointed it towards him, and tried to steady my trembling hands. "And how did you know my name?" I demanded.
The smile was gone, and somehow that made him appear ten times more dangerous than a wild predator. "I found it in your journal," he said, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable.
I frowned. "You're reading other people's journals now? That's... invasive."
He didn't reply. Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression caught somewhere between bemusement and disbelief, as though I'd just confessed to kissing a frog that morning.
I wasn't usually violent, but instinct kicked in. My grip on the dagger faltered-my nerves frayed-and yet I could do nothing. This Nikolai seemed frozen in place, silent, statuesque... except for the way his eyes bore into me, reading me as though I were an open book.
"What are you doing here?" I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Go away! Leave this place at once. I command you! You have no power here."
It sounded dramatic, and a small part of me knew it probably was. Another part felt it was necessary.
"You dare give orders to me?" His voice deepened suddenly, heavy and dangerous, like a shadow sliding across the room.
Exhausted and annoyed, I pushed him. Hard. Hopefully enough to shock him.
Instead of passing through him, like spirits usually did, I bounced off as if hitting a solid wall and landed on the floor with a painful thud. My back screamed in protest.
"Ahh!"
He remained standing, utterly nonchalant. He didn't help me up either. Instead, he sank elegantly into a chair, posture regal, as if born into an ancient bloodline accustomed to commanding obedience. His eyes flicked over me with disdain.
"You," he hissed, almost accusingly, "are an insufferable human. Were you in my kingdom, your defiance alone would warrant severe punishment. Yet here..." His lips curved into a cold, knowing smile. "Here I indulge you, if only to see whether your insolence masks wit, or merely ignorance."
I stared, disbelief freezing me in place. Was he... actually real? My first thought was that I was still dreaming, that the figure before me would dissolve if I blinked hard enough. But he remained solid, breathing, undeniable.
A statue come to life? My mind scrambled for explanation. Some sorcerers were said to bind a soul into stone, weaving breath into what should be lifeless. A grotesque form of mummial magic, not unlike the golems whispered of in forbidden texts. Could he be one of those? The thought chilled me more than his gaze.
"You were a statue when I saw you in that dungeon," I whispered, as if saying it aloud might make sense of the impossible. "If I disturbed your sleep, forgive me, but don't disturb mine. I can make an offering, if that will appease you."
"I am no statue," he cut in sharply. "I am alive, like you. It took me many days to trace who awakened me. And you need not offer anything but your service to me-or your blood, if you insist on stubbornness." His hand lifted in a careless gesture toward me. "Now, please listen. If you plan another attack, you will waste your energy. I cannot be harmed by the weapons you currently hold."
I tightened my grip on the dagger, unwilling to let it go. Perhaps, I could just stab him, if he did anything to me, but I failed to summon enough courage to do so. My gaze lingered on him, studying every subtle movement, every faint flicker in his eyes.
"Are you... a sorcerer?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
A faint twitch curved the corner of his lips, but his eyes remained razor-sharp, as though I had insulted a prized possession. "Somewhat," he said, with a casual precision that made my stomach tighten.
I racked my mind, recalling methods from the few magic books I had dared to read. My skills weren't nearly enough to force an entity to reveal its true nature, but perhaps words could coax it out. "Tell me what you are," I said, "and I will let you speak freely."
He muttered something in a language I did not recognize, the words curling through the air like smoke.
"What...?" I blinked, uncertain if I had misheard.
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment I thought he might snap at me. Then, slowly, deliberately, he said, "I am a creature of darkness, as the old sorcerers called it. A vampire, in terms you might understand."
"A vampire?" I muttered.
He sat there like some strange apparition, and the old stories from Averlain clicked into place. Back home, we'd heard about hunters who prowled the night for such creatures, and my family had stuffed charms and wards into every corner of our house. But none of that had ever prepared me for this. I'd imagined something rotted and demonic, a corpse dragged from the grave. Not...like him.
Still, my intuition said he was telling the truth. And that counted for something. Most otherworldly beings I'd read about would sooner lie through their teeth than hand you their real name.
I swallowed, realizing my throat had gone desert dry, though the room felt strangely icy even for a summer night. "Tell me your purpose," I ordered.
Nikolai leaned back, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I have a proposition for you-one that could benefit us both. I have a mission, and I believe you may be the person capable of assisting me."
I raised an eyebrow. "A mission?"
He nodded. "Long ago, my wife was a powerful woman, from your own realm. Centuries back, she was slain by a treacherous human sorcerer who coveted her talisman, a talisman that grants immense power and extended life. I do not seek it for the power, but for the memories it carries. That sorcerer trapped me in a dungeon; I remained asleep for centuries until you came to me. Your action broke the curse and awakened me."
I stared at him, dumbfounded. Did I just do something heroic? By accident? And now I was supposed to track down a talisman lost centuries ago?
"I'm sorry," I said. "There are countless sorcerers. Many hidden, some were buried. How could I possibly locate the right one? He's probably decomposed by now."
His gaze sharpened, as if he was disappointed. "That is where your abilities become important. I must warn you. This is dangerous. But the rewards... are substantial."
Curiosity warred inside me. "Rewards?" I asked, unable to stop myself.
A faint, almost mischievous smile curved his lips, though his eyes remained solemn. "Gold, my dear. Enough to change your life. And much more... anything you desire, with some exceptions."
I blinked, slightly dubious. "But how can I help? Finding a sorcerer from centuries ago sounds... impossible. Do you even know his name?"
His eyes darkened. "No. I forgot his name. But if I saw him, I would recognize him. The talisman has a presence-I can sense it, and I know he uses it for... vampirism. You will assist me by a method called dimensional traveling. I will teach you to enter the fourth dimension, to locate the sorcerer and reclaim what was stolen."
"Wait," I said. "You're telling me this sorcerer stole your talisman centuries ago, and now, after waking from a curse, you want me to retrieve it?"
"Exactly," he replied coldly.
I scoffed. "And I'm the lucky human chosen because... I happened to awaken you?"
He leaned forward, his voice quiet but sharp. "Nothing is impossible for a magician. You are suitable for this task. Not so weak as to fail completely, nor so strong as to challenge me."
I frowned. "Is that why? And if I refuse?"
His expression darkened even more, like a starless night sky. "Then I will kill you."
My eyes widened. "Why?"
"Because you serve no purpose to me, yet you now know my identity. That knowledge makes you and I vulnerable. If I desired, I could end your life in a moment. No amulet, no dagger, would save you from me."
His words lingered, cold and heavy in the room. My fingers tightened around my amulet, the only security I had.
He slowly stood up from the seat and started walking towards me. His gaze somehow had made me paralyzed on my spot.
Finally, the vampire spoke again, his voice deadly serious. "So, the question remains: will you trust me and undertake this dangerous journey, or will you choose an end far less... glamorous?"
I folded my arms to keep my hands from shaking. "So, if I help you, I risk everything. If I don't... I risk just as much, don't I?" My voice betrayed me, cracking on the last word.
He didn't answer right away. Just watched me, patient as stone.
The silence pressed on me until I realized the decision wasn't going to make itself. My heart thumped hard in my chest, as though trying to remind me I was still alive, still mine to command. I thought of Amberfield, of Aunt Genevieve and her silly hats, of Mr. Hawthorne and Emrys and all the ordinary, stubbornly human lives I had around me. If even half of what he said was true, they'd all be swallowed up in his war whether I turned my back or not.
I let out a long breath I didn't know I was holding. "Fine," I said. The word came out sharper than I meant, like I was snapping at him, though really it was at myself. "I'll help you. But don't mistake this for blind trust. I'm agreeing because I don't see another choice yet."
His expression softened, the faintest flicker of approval, as though he'd expected nothing less.
Inside, I was trembling. But I told myself this: a trembling hand can still strike, and a trembling voice can still say yes.