Chapter 7: Shadows in the Blood
The night was quiet, too quiet.
As the distant hum of the forest faded behind them, Kian, Selene, and Rai trekked along the muddy backroads leading toward the city outskirts. They had abandoned the broken-down temple hours ago. The ritual, whatever it had been meant to do, left a strange energy hanging in the air around Kian. It wasn't pain, nor was it power. It was like carrying a loaded gun you didn't know how to fire—but still knowing it could kill.
Kian felt the relic in his chest pulse softly, as though it had come alive again. He kept touching his shirt, half-expecting it to burn through.
"Do you always fidget that much?" Rai asked lazily, dragging his boots through the gravel. His tone was dry, amused.
Kian glanced up, caught off guard. "It's… nothing. Just feels weird."
"Yeah, having a cosmic vampire artifact jammed in your chest'll do that," Rai smirked. "Still. Wouldn't recommend picking at it like a scab. Nightborns are temperamental. Like cats. Ancient, blood-drinking, possibly world-ending cats."
Selene chuckled beside him, holding her arm. She was still weak, her skin pale and eyes dulled. They had shared the last blood bag an hour ago. Half for Kian. Half for Selene. Rai had pretended not to care.
The city lights were just starting to glow on the horizon. Far off, the skyline was a jagged line of old apartment buildings, crumbling factories, and flickering neon signs. They weren't heading into downtown—too exposed. Instead, they were approaching the Lower Ring, an abandoned district on the fringe of town.
"We'll stay in the old subway tunnels," Rai said, nodding toward a rusted fence and a collapsed highway bridge. "No one's used them in years. And the ones who do usually don't live long enough to gossip."
"Comforting," Kian muttered.
"Hey, you wanted safe. You didn't say it had to be five stars."
---
Elsewhere: The Gathering of Leaders
Far from the Lower Ring, in a candle-lit chamber beneath the Hall of Ancients, the leaders of the supernatural factions had convened.
The room was circular, carved out of black obsidian. Twelve seats. Eleven filled. Vampires, witches, werewolves, necromancers, druids, and shapeshifters—creatures that once ruled the world from the shadows but now barely held it together.
The air was thick with tension.
"The Nightborn has awakened," said Lord Mavek, the First of the Elder Vampires. He stood, his crimson cloak brushing the stone floor. "This changes everything."
"He's only a boy," growled Revas, Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack. "Half-feral. Untrained. He doesn't even know what he is."
"And yet," hissed Illarien of the Veiled Coven, her silver eyes gleaming, "he carries the relic. That makes him more dangerous than all of us combined."
A murmur rose through the chamber.
"But perhaps not all dangers are meant to be destroyed," said a voice.
Heads turned. It was Nysa of the Thirteenth Circle—a young witch, not older than thirty, draped in robes of forest green and ink-black runes. Her seat was lower than the rest, her faction minor and often overlooked.
Nysa's eyes held something the others lacked: hope.
"Have we considered," she began slowly, "that the Nightborn was born for balance? The old prophecies never said he would bring ruin. They said he would end the cycle."
Illarien scoffed. "End? Or begin anew with blood and fire?"
"We can't afford to be naïve," growled Mavek. "The Nightborn doesn't know who he is. He could be weaponized—by humans, by rogue factions, or worse."
Nysa lowered her gaze, then looked toward the glowing orb at the center of the chamber—an ancient seeing stone. Faint shadows twisted within it, swirling around a faint image of Kian, walking through the dark with Selene and Rai.
"I will find him," Nysa whispered. "Not to kill him. But to offer him a choice."
---
Back in the Lower Ring
The subway tunnels were pitch black. Only the faint red glow of Rai's zippo lighter danced along the curved walls, casting shadows on graffiti-stained tiles.
They walked until the sound of dripping water and rats replaced the noise of the surface. Finally, they arrived at a maintenance hub—half-collapsed but dry. A few rusted crates, broken furniture, and old mattresses were scattered about.
"Home sweet sewer," Rai said, dropping his backpack. "Welcome to my humble rat kingdom."
Selene gave him a look. "It smells like something died."
"Several somethings," Rai replied. "But hey, no one's hunting us here."
Kian sat down on a makeshift couch made from train cushions. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. Still, there was a gnawing hunger deep in his stomach. Blood. Always blood.
Rai reached into his bag and tossed Kian a silver packet. "Last one. Don't say I never give you anything."
Kian hesitated, but the thirst clawed at him. He tore into it, the taste hot and metallic. He didn't notice Selene watching him until he looked up.
She smiled weakly. "Mind if I get a sip?"
He handed the rest to her without a word. She took it gratefully.
"I'm sorry," Kian said after a while. "For almost hurting you both. I wasn't in control."
Selene leaned back, licking blood from her lips. "You're still learning. That's what we're here for."
"Besides," Rai added with a shrug, "you only almost fed on me. Close, but no fang."
Kian managed a faint smile. "Thanks for not staking me."
Rai stood, stretching. "Hey, I get it. I've had worse mornings. One time I drank from a warlock's familiar by accident. Whole week hallucinating unicorns that could talk."
Selene raised a brow. "You're impossible."
"Damn right."
---
A New Beginning
As dawn approached, the group packed what little they had. They couldn't stay underground forever. The longer they lingered, the more exposed they were.
"Where are we going?" Kian asked, pulling on a worn jacket.
"There's an old contact of mine in Hollowpoint," Rai said. "Neutral zone. Shady. But safe."
"And food?"
Rai grimaced. "We're fresh out. I'll figure it out when we get there."
Selene stepped beside Kian, steady now after her share of blood. "We'll keep moving. It's what Nightborns did during the old wars. Shadows are safer than castles."
Kian looked back once as they exited the tunnel—a lingering gaze at the world he had just stepped into. The world of shadows, blood, secrets… and legacy.
As they reached the city outskirts, cars whizzed past. Neon signs flickered overhead. People moved with earbuds in, eyes glued to phones, oblivious to the ancient storm rising beneath their feet.
Rai popped his collar and grinned. "Alright, boys and bloodsucker, let's blend in. Try not to sparkle."
"Wrong kind of vampire," Selene muttered.
"I know," Rai replied. "But someone had to say it."
Unbeknownst to them, eyes watched from rooftops, alleyways, and shadows. Some were hunters. Others were curious. And one was Nysa—hooded, hidden, and tracking the scent of a boy who might save or doom them all.
She whispered to herself: "Please, be more than they fear."