"Very well," he whispered, his voice low and smooth, echoing in the quiet of the room. "You've made a wise decision, Miss Montclair."
A strange smile curved his lips, and for a fleeting moment, I saw two elongated, pointed fangs. Then, just as quickly, the expression vanished. He bowed lightly, almost ceremoniously, before stepping toward me.
For a moment, I felt as if the air itself had thickened. It pressed against my chest and lungs, my limbs heavy and unresponsive, a suffocating weight that made each movement feel impossible. I gritted my teeth, forcing my muscles to obey, but my stomach twisted sharply, as though something invisible had coiled inside me.
Slowly, I focused on my breathing, counting in and out until the oppressive sensation eased. Only then did I realize how much taller he seemed. Well over six feet, a head and shoulders above me, like a walking coat rack I hadn't asked for. A chill traced a line down my spine, sending tiny shivers up my neck.
Even standing still, even in this room, there was something undeniably commanding about him, something that made the hairs on my arms stand at attention.
Still, I was tired, utterly drained from the day at the apothecary and the magical training at the Thornecross manor. "Right," I said, trying to sound casual, "where exactly are you planning to stay? Because... technically, this is my room."
Nikolai regarded me with that calm, unnerving gaze, as if I were the one intruding on his space. "I'll remain here," he said simply.
I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? You're planning to... what? Sit on the floor? Lounge in the bathroom? I assure you, that is highly improper."
He tilted his head slightly and gave a small, faint smirk. "There's a chair," he said, nodding toward a plush armchair in the corner.
I blinked. "You... will sleep in a chair?"
He slowly lowered himself into it, leaning back, then testing the cushions with a subtle shift of his weight. "Hmm... yes. This will suffice," he said, as if making a careful judgment on a critical matter.
I stared at the vampire, caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. Somehow, the idea that he could sleep-really sleep-while sitting upright didn't feel entirely unnatural for him. Still, it was strange, and yet... necessary, I supposed.
"Fine," I said finally, waving a hand. "Do that, then. But if you need anything, knock on the bedroom door. Understood?"
"Understood," he replied, his voice soft, almost teasing.
I hesitated, then added, "Oh, and another thing. If you harm me-or anyone else-I'm done with this mission of yours. No exceptions. I don't get many visitors here, but if someone does walk in, you'd best make sure you're nowhere to be seen."
His lips curved faintly, as though amused by my attempt at authority. "I wouldn't do anything unless it were necessary," he said, the words so calm they might have been reassuring, if only I could tell what necessary meant to him.
I kicked off my boots before going to the bedroom, sank under the covers, and despite the tension of the evening, my body gave in. Only I could end up sharing a room with a six-foot walking coat rack that may or may not be plotting something sinister, I thought with a faint smirk. The room's strange energy settled around us like a quiet promise of things to come.
*****
The Thornecross Manor felt unusually quiet that day. With no duties at the apothecary, I had taken the rare opportunity to return to the lodge. The corridors seemed to hum with a low, expectant energy as I followed the subtle scent of incense to the meditation room.
There, waiting for me, was the Adept assigned to guide me today. She introduced herself with a polite nod. "I am Miss Seraphine Valdine," she said, her voice calm and even, yet carrying a soft authority that made it impossible not to listen.
Miss Valdine was a beautiful woman in her late twenties. She was tall and lean, her dark hair braided neatly down her back. Her amber eyes held a quiet intensity, and the faint silver threads in her garment shimmered in the candlelight. There was something both approachable and formidable about her-like a wolf in scholar's robes. Which I found amazing, to be honest.
"Now," she began, motioning for me to sit cross-legged on the floor, "a common misconception about this type of meditation is that we, as practitioners, would somehow become influenced by our darkest thoughts and desires. This is not entirely true! This meditation is not some type of sorcery. It only allows us to become aware of our minds. Most people are only aware of their emotions, and thus struggle with critical thought. However, once we enter a meditative state, we can see and hear things other humans cannot."
Her gaze softened as she added, "Magic without a will is only imagination, a fleeting daydream. Focus, and let your mind become the instrument."
I couldn't think of anything to say. So I just closed my eyes, trying to quiet the restless thoughts that always seemed to swirl around my head. Seraphine's voice faded into the background as I followed her instructions, inhaling deeply and feeling the tension melt from my shoulders.
And then it happened.
A sudden, deep relaxation washed over me. My body felt impossibly light, almost nonexistent. My mind opened in ways I couldn't have anticipated, a gentle detachment from the world around me. It was as if I could no longer feel the weight of my own body. The sensation was startling, but not frightening-like drifting in water that was simultaneously cold and comforting.
I could still hear the woman's voice, soft and steady, until her words blurred into something unintelligible. I didn't care much. I was too relaxed, too certain that I was doing the right thing. I tried to listen, just to be sure, but no one seemed to mind what I was doing.
After a while, a strange lightness washed over me. I noticed I could no longer smell the room, nor hear Seraphine's voice. Nothing. It was as if I had fallen asleep, and yet I was still aware.
I let the nothingness linger, until faint sounds stirred at the edges of it. Voices. My chest tightened. Could the others be watching me? That thought made me self-conscious. But the voices grew clearer, and I realized at once they were unlike anything I had ever heard. They were soft, humming, distant, as though they came from far away, yet too close to ignore.
A chill ran through me. I snapped my eyes open-and nearly jumped in fear.
I was in a carriage. Strangers sat around me, none of them I recognized. My chest tightened. I didn't know how I'd gotten there. I shifted in my seat, my fingertips brushing the wooden frame, the red cushion beside me. They felt solid, too solid. A shiver ran through me. Everything looked real, yet something underneath it all was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The windows of the carriage were darkened, muting whatever light lay beyond, except for one beside me that remained clear. I sat curled on the bench, knees drawn close, trying to steady myself. Across from me, a woman in a lace-trimmed gown caught my eye. Gold glinted at her throat and ears, a jeweled brooch pinned just beneath her collarbone. Her skin was pale, her lips painted a bold red. Blonde hair framed her face in smooth sheets, heavy bangs shadowing her brow.
She leaned forward, whispering something to the masked man beside her. His mask was ornate, his coat tailored, his every movement practiced. Another man lounged near him, cigar smoke curling lazily in the air as his fingers idly twisted the ends of his mustache. They looked refined, almost theatrical, too polished to be trusted.
Before I could decide what to make of them, the man with the mustache rose. Without speaking, he caught the woman's hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles in a stiff, formal gesture. Then, just as suddenly, he slipped out of the carriage, leaving the rest of us in silence.
I tried to listen more closely, though the words came to me as if muffled through a wall.
"They will bring children again this year," murmured a woman's voice, lilting and soft.
"I should like cheese for the banquet," another woman replied, her laugh light, almost rehearsed.
"Every year the next sacrifice is revealed," a man said, and when I looked, I saw him leaning toward another, their faces half-hidden in shadow.
"Let them sleep," his companion answered with a smile, "a beautiful dream to cradle humanity." Their laughter rang out, rich and hollow.
"Where are we?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Both men turned toward me. The first narrowed his eyes. "You do not belong here. Who are you?"
"Wait," the other said, lifting a hand, "is she not one of the chosen?"
The first raised his glass, a dark red liquid glinting inside. "Would you drink, then? This vintage restores youth. Strength."
Before I could reply, a young woman stepped into view, her sudden presence so quiet it startled me. She leaned close, her smile playful, her voice a whisper.
"Do not fear, my dear," she said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "The masked ones will not harm you. You are innocent." She winked, her laughter trailing like a bell.
Before I could form a word, a hand seized mine with such force that I was wrenched to my feet. A tall man in a dark cloak emerged from the shadows beside me, his grip cold and strong.
"You should not stay here," he said, his voice low, almost chiding. He gave a sharp signal to the driver, and the carriage slowed to a halt. Without another word, he pulled me down onto the cobblestones.
I stared at the man, my wrist aching beneath his grip - so crushingly strong I half-expected the bones to snap. His skin was pale, nearly white, and though his hood shadowed most of his face, I caught the faintest gleam when he turned. His eyes.
They burned red now. Yet I could have sworn they were blue only a heartbeat ago.
"Nikolai?" My voice trembled. "Is that you?"
A faint curve touched the man's mouth, though it was not a smile. His voice lowered, almost intimate, as if meant for me alone. "You mistake me for another. But perhaps... closer than you realize."
The procession of carriages rolled past us, wheels groaning, horses snorting mist into the night air.
Then, out of nowhere, Victor appeared. He stepped swiftly between us, his gaze locked on the cloaked man.
"Enough," Victor said, his tone controlled yet edged with tension. "She is not yours to trouble."
The cloaked man regarded him in silence, unreadable behind the shadow of his hood. Then his eyes flicked toward me, lingering as though weighing something unspoken.
I clutched at my skirts, my pulse racing. "Who... who is he?" I whispered.
Victor didn't look at me. His voice was firm, almost cold. "I will explain everything soon. But not here." At last, he turned, gesturing toward a carriage that waited apart from the others. "Get inside. Quickly."
"Why another carriage?" I asked, my voice trembling.
His gaze softened just slightly. "Trust me, Masha. Please."
I hesitated, but the way the cloaked man still watched me made my skin prickle. With a heavy breath, I obeyed, stepping up into the carriage. The door shut behind us, and the horses lurched forward.
For a long moment, I stared at my hands, unsure if they were trembling from fear or confusion. Then Victor spoke.
"Miss Montclair?"
I looked up at him sharply. His face was grave, his eyes searching mine.
"Please... come back to me," a voice pleaded.
My eyes snapped open. The carriage was gone. Instead, I was staring up at a pale ceiling, the air heavy with the faint scent of herbs and smoke. I shifted and felt the softness beneath me-white sheets, a bed too clean and too still to be my own.
I pushed myself up on my elbows, my heart racing. "What... what happened?"
Victor sat beside me, balanced in a chair as if he'd been waiting the whole time. A tray rested on his lap. His posture was steady, too steady, and when he finally met my gaze, it was with a smile that felt practiced. "Nothing. You just fell asleep. For an hour. Now, eat something."
He set the tray carefully across my legs-bread, fruit, and a steaming cup that smelled faintly bitter. My stomach churned at the sight of it, though I couldn't say why.
I glanced at him again. He was watching me too closely, as if measuring my reaction. The silence between us grew heavy. "Did I really just fall asleep?" I asked. My voice came out thinner than I intended.
"Yes," he said quickly, before looking away. His smile faltered for the briefest second. "That's all. Nothing else."
The way he avoided my eyes felt unsettling. For a moment, the image of the carriage pressed against my thoughts. I wanted to ask again, to question him, but something in his expression told me I wouldn't like the answer.
Instead, I let out a slow breath. "It's just... I had a dream. It's so strange. Too vivid to be just nonsense. I thought it really happened. And you were in it."
That made him look at me, quick and sharp, as if unsure, though he softened the glance a moment later and smiled a little. "Dreams can be vivid," he explained. "Especially for a Seeker who has been practicing meditation. The mind grows restless before it steadies. Whatever you saw was nothing unusual."
I dropped my gaze to the food instead, thinking for some time. Maybe he was right, it was nothing. Maybe I was imagining it. My nerves were always quick to betray me, and I had been pushing myself too hard. Yes-that had to be it.
Still, when I lifted the cup, I couldn't quite bring myself to drink.
For a moment, I thought of the carriage again, of the voice begging me not to let go.
Maybe it had only been a dream. Maybe Victor was right.
But as I forced a smile and lowered the cup without drinking, a quiet certainty tugged at me. He wasn't telling me everything.