The pit was deep, and as gravity brought Chesare's body down, Evette realized that the long ladder made of logs and rope resting securely against the far side of the pit was the only way one could securely hoist themselves down to the ground, or successfully climb out. She heard the loud breathy groan that escaped his lips before seeing his body sprawled out on the ground, the dust beneath his body pushed into the air as he met his doom.

The dust settled, and everyone saw the body lying at the bottom of the pit. A brawl broke out between the separated crowds, colliding in a mash of impatient fists. Narcisse's hands slid up the sharp edges of the blades he held in the air, gore spilling out over the sharp metal. He pushed his mangled, bloody hands up until he could grasp the hilt of the swords. He leaned over the edge, pulling one blade back before forcing it down into the pit after the man who had already forcefully landed at the bottom, stealing his last breath as it pierced his chest.

"This is an act of war!" A lunar wolf called from across the way, his fists stained red with blood that was not his own.

Narcisse turned to Evette. "Find Collin, and warn him of what has happened." He sensed Eve's hesitation after a moment. "Find a way out afterward. I'll come for you, I promise." His wounds healed, dark sentient magic aiding him. Eve could feel his heartbeat throb in her ears as the veins of blood that covered him started to glow red. He could feel the fear that gripped her, as she could feel the worry that filled him.

"I'm not leaving."

Fur rose on his skin, his wolf daring to snarl at her. "Go!" Narcisse's eyes turned bloodshot, his body forced forward from the energy of his change. The wolf that he became was large; covered in brown fur that hurt to touch.

Evette did not want to leave him, but she knew that she had to. She listened to his command, turning away so she could run down the dirt steps that gradually leveled as she drew near to the corridor. She ran past the men and women who were fighting, shifting as they did. She was separated from her wolf in an instant, regretfully leaving him so she could warn Collin. Jade followed after her, forcing her way through the crowd to catch up before Eve made her way down one of the dark corridors. For a moment, Evette thought the person tailing behind her was going to attack her, but as she turned, fists balled, she realized that there was no need to keep her guard up.

"We have to find Collin and Jamie." The voice belonged to Jade, and Evette breathed out a pained sigh.

"I know," Eve said in a worried breath. "And then I have to find my way out of here."

Jade grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around quickly. "Take this," She held out her hand, extending a rusty key out to the girl. "You'll need it to get into the room Collin is in. Two lefts, three rights, then a slight curve to the left. It's the second door on the right."

Eve took the key, nodding in the dark as she did. "I'll probably get lost." She murmured.

"You won't get lost if you remember what I said. I have to find Jamie, and warn the others. It's best if we split up."

Evette held the key close to her chest, eyes alight. "You have to get out of here. Take your family away from this place."

"We can't leave the others to fight alone. We outnumber the lunar wolves." Jade shook her head. "I'm not angry at you or Narcisse for what you did. Chesare provoked the wrong man. His people stole what didn't belong to them."

"Deserved or not, what Narcisse did has started a war. He killed Chesare, and with him being a transition wolf, I understand why they wish to shed blood."

"It doesn't matter now," Jade said hurriedly. "All we can do is protect ourselves."

"You're right." Evette began to turn around and walk away, but Jade called after her.

"After you find Collin, keep walking straight down the corridor until the path splits! If you turn right, it will lead you to another area where there is a cave that leads to the surface!" Her voice seemed to echo. "Don't turn left, Evette!"

"This isn't goodbye. I will bring Morgan back to meet her real father. She deserves to know the truth." Evette glanced back over her sore shoulder.

"The crown Ciren wore only brought his soul grief and hatred. If a new ruler is crowned, they will age like he did. The one who is crowned, must not be the one who rules." Jade swallowed, pausing for a single second. "Whoever is crowned, has one year. One year before their heart is hardened forever! Promise me you will unburden them, kill them before it's too late."

"I will find Morgan. We will come back t0 this place together. I will do whatever I can to help you." Evette agreed.

Evette quickly scurried down the corridor, leaving Jade to find Jamie. She turned left twice, pausing when she realized that there was no firelight to illuminate her path. She moved quietly in the dark, unafraid of what she could not see.

She turned right twice, using her hands to navigate by feeling the walls. Before she could turn again, the quiet patter of footsteps sounded from behind her, and she knew that Jade was not the one stepping carefully.

Evette stumbled forward, tripping over a jagged rock that caught her boot at the worst possible moment. Whoever was behind her was frightened by the loud groan that echoed in the dark. Eve laid breathless on the ground, the same sharp rock jabbing her at her side. She reached up with her left hand, brushing the dirt off of her face. The key that she once held in her hand had slipped away, and she frantically tried to find it in the dark. Light was all that she needed to illuminate the ground, but every time she tried to focus on using her powers, she could not channel the emotions needed to spark a flame.

She crawled along the floor, desperately searching for the key Jade had given her, confused that she could not find it. The slight decline of the ground forced her to slide down a foot or two, peeking her head around a corner to see a torch hung on the wall. Eve was grateful to finally be able to see, and as she stood, lifting the torch from its place she turned back to glance at the ground, an eery shadow was cast over the stones that split the single path into two. Evette felt lost. She had completely forgotten all that Jade told her. She had not payed close attention to how many turns she had made.

Her vision blurred as her pulse raced. The worry she felt was overwhelming. She was not afraid to be alone. She was afraid that something horrible might have happened to Narcisse. She could no longer hear his heartbeat throb in her ears, or feel the worrisome ache in his heart.

A shadow still loomed between the two separate paths that spiraled away from each other. Eve stood still, watching as it swirled in patterns that she could not recognize. She reached out to touch it, but it flinched away, its long, smokey tail leaving a trail of shadow behind as it darted to the left.

Evette stepped forward, eyeing the shadow that stopped moving the moment she did, its unseen face staring back at her as she followed it down the hallway that curved to the left. She stepped with caution as she held the bright torch close, the key she had lost seemingly forgotten.

She stopped moving, and the shadow followed suit. Eve contemplated turning back, but she was too curious. She lifted her torch, and the shadow shimmered an iridescent violet when it caught the lights reflection. No matter how long she waved the flames close to it, the shadow never faded. She picked up her pace this time, chasing after it.

Evette gasped when the corridor widened into a brightly lit hall. There were murals carved into the walls that were similar to the ones in the great hall. She stood at the large archway to the hall below the one she had came from. The still air was oddly warm, and it caressed her skin as it brushed past her. She felt welcomed in the space she occupied at first, but it took less than a moment for that feeling to fade.

Jamie stood, his small hands covering his open mouth. He was trying to scream. To yell at the top of his lungs for someone to come and help him make sense of what he was witnessing. He bumped into Evette as he stumbled backwards, shocked by the scene before him. He turned, a horrified gleam in his eyes as he realized that she was standing right behind him under the wide archway.

Evette realized too late where she was. She had ventured deeper into the ground, instead of closer to the surface. There suddenly was not enough air to sustain her heavy breaths. Lunar wolves lived on the level below the hall that the transition wolves called home. It was a dark place, with far less space to house families. The male lunar wolves had left their wives and children below to keep them safe, while they traveled closer to the surface so they could support the ones they hoped would fight for them. To fight against those who they felt were their adversaries.

A short, shadowy figure dragged a man whom Evette recognized as Collin over to the center of the hall, gripping him by the throat. The figure was cloaked in shadow, its body hidden from the naked eye. At the foot of the man that held Collin, were a woman and child. They thrashed and shook as they laid on the floor, overwhelmed by images of memories that flashed behind their eyes. The man that loomed over their shaking bodies did not turn to face the two fearful innocents that stood behind him, tears pooling in their eyes. The image was one Evette and Jamie would never forget. They stared blankly, realizing that what they were witnessing was indeed real. Evette was confused, and shocked, and utterly disgusted as she looked at Collin, who stared down at the woman who laid on the floor beneath his hovering body. Her aged skin was pale, and the wrinkles at the outer corners of her eyes were prominent. Her eyes were as black as night, her body overcome by shadow. Her fingers twitched as she tried to break free from the magic that kept her from being fully aware of her surroundings. The baby she held in her arms kicked its small feet, tiny pale toes exposed to the air. Its eyes were as dark as the woman's, and its short, wispy hair was the same shade as Collin's locks.

There were more than just the two wolves at his feet. There were others who tried to escape whatever had possessed their minds, eating them up from the inside out. Their bodies were spread out in the hall, lying a few feet away from each other. Evette could not count them all, and she did not care to, as the sight of them made her want to curl into a ball beside them and cry fearful tears.

Jamie tried to run toward the shadow, but Evette silently held him back, using every ounce of her strength to keep him from running toward the man that stole Collin's last breath as the woman he loved was forced to watch, her body in a state of shock. Collin should have stayed locked in the room Jade and the others had wanted him to rest in. Jamie should have stayed with Jade, instead of sneaking through the halls to unlock the door that Collin was in with the spare key he kept. Jamie meant well, but the man who had control over the minds of the lunar wolves left below, certainly did not mean well.

Evette grabbed Jamie and pulled him back. She forcefully covered his young eyes with her hands, forcing him to look away as Collin's lifeless body fell to the floor, landing beside the woman who Evette realized was surely his forbidden lover. The woman whom Collin loved dearly, but could never tell his family about. For she was a lunar wolf, and he a transition wolf.

"Run." She did not have to think. The word fell from her lips before she realized that it had. It was simple; short, but it held a warning. Evette's tone held more than just an edge, it held fear. It held traces of every emotion she had ever felt in all of her eighteen years. It was louder than a baby's wail, and more forceful than the scolding sting of her father's hand at her cheek. It held a softness too, one that was slightly comforting. She had dropped the torch that she once held in her hand, so she could protect Jamie, and she was glad that she had. He listened to her, and allowed his legs to carry him away from her and the man that had killed his uncle. Eve stood alone now, her big brown eyes wide in shock.

The helpless wolves who laid on the floor were still trying to fight against what controlled their movements, their nerves twitching from the magic that threatened them. They were all still alive, except for one man.

The dark man turned to Evette, and she clenched her jaw tight. Her teeth hurt from the force. The hairpin that was still clipped to her lapel bit at her skin as her chest heaved. She was surprised that she had not yet lost the pin that she had brought with her from Tigerstar.

Shadow clung to the walls, trapping Evette inside of the hall as it formed an impenetrable door under the archway above her head. Light somehow shone from the high point in the dirt ceiling, its rays the perfect mix of cold white light and dark warmth. She pushed back against the black wall behind her, but there was no escaping. She bent down to grab the torch she had dropped, but the small puff of shadow that had led her down the corridor extinguished the flame, hissing at her as it turned to mist.

Evette barely held any magic. She was stripped of most of her powers once she and the others were encircled by shadow. Their bodies were still shaking as the shadow man who stood floated closer to Eve. He demanded Evette look into his eyes, and she obeyed. His violet orbs were rich in color, and were fearsome. His body had been covered by darkness, but as it fell away from his pale, lurid skin, it uncovered the man behind the mask. His cloak fell to the ground. The shadows that had formed the fabric scattered, falling away from his frame.

The man stepped forward, the soles of his tall boots now touching the ground. His periwinkle skin was a lighter shade compared to his eyes. The veins beneath his skin brightly glowed, iridescent in color. He was angelic; utterly breathtaking.

"I freed you from the mark that had burdened you," His voice was calmer than Evette would have expected. "And yet, you still try to run from me."

Evette knew all that he was. She could see lightening crash in his eyes, and she could hear his shriek sound from behind the storm clouds that swirled in the sky. She could imagine the bone wings at his back, held together by a pull of violet magic.

"Why did you care to remove it?" Her voice was shaky, and her throat dry.

"Because, I understand how it feels to be caught up in the mess of other people's mistakes. To feel imprisoned by pain, and magic."

Evette narrowed her eyes, her brow pinching together nervously. "Are you going to tell me something mysterious that will leave me guessing? Or are you going to kill me?" Eve reminded herself that she was surrounded by a wall of shadow. "Perhaps a little of both?" She was afraid to move. Afraid to take a step toward him, or take a step back.

The man turned away, his piercing gaze shifting. Evette was grateful that she no longer had to meet his gaze. She breathed shallow breaths, afraid of the uncertain. He was uncertain. He was the one who held power within the confines of the shadow bulwark.

His lustrous, violet skin clung to the ridges of his spine, thick, pale bone sticking out from his back like tendrils at the head of a dragon. Lean, winsome muscles favored his body, and strained lightly beneath his bedizened garments.

"You should not have come here."

Evette held the torch in her right hand, flames no longer alight. It was the only thing that separated her from the man. It was a piece of weak wood covered in flammable material, and while useless, it was the only thing keeping her from screaming. She squeezed the wood until she felt splinters burrow under her skin.

"You're right." Eve whispered in response. She regretted everything. Every action, every emotion, and every word. She took one look at the man before her, and wanted to run. She wanted to hide, to escape the reality she faced. He was everything. Everything she feared, and everything she found to be astonishing. Shadow. Death.

"You should have stayed in Tigerstar."

"I know." Was her whisper. Her eyes traced the silver shimmer of the adornment at his neck, the wiry bijouterie bold in its shape. He wore it like armor, and unusual armor it was, sheer and revealing. Velvety black locks of hair softly brushed against his bare back, touching the black ink that covered the long scars that fell beneath his belted trousers. Some of the long, shiny strands also touched his chest, and reached down toward his covered thighs. For a moment, Evette felt envious of his beauty, but realized that there was no reason for her to envy him. For what is a vessel of beauty without a benevolent soul within.

"You have a vengeful heart." He murmured.

"And you have a wicked one." His head perked up almost unnoticeably, and her heart skipped a beat.

"You're right." His expression held no emotion. His squared jaw clenched similarly to how Evette's had, the skin of his neck creasing as he glanced back over his pale shoulder, before turning back to her.

Evette nodded, and frowned when she realized that she had averted her gaze almost timidly. She contained the flames that still dwelled within her heart, not because he demanded it of her, but because she was afraid to offend such a dark creature.

"You're a very intriguing elf," His voice brought her back to reality. "You have many intrusive thoughts."

"How would you know?" Her voice came out in a whisper. The man caught a glimpse of the fire within her just then, catching both of them by quiet surprise.

"I can hear them." His somber demeanor arose curiosity in Evette. "They are very loud."

"That is not the least bit concerning, or creepy." It was a blatant lie, one that was laced with sarcasm.

"You are the first person I have spoken to in a very long time."

Time stilled. The countless shaking bodies lying on the floor seemed to fade away from the background. She refused to look down at them, to see their blackened eyes and horrid expressions. The wall of shadow at her back spanned around the hall, seeing the ceiling and the walls covered by darkness made her feel slightly claustrophobic.

Eve wondered if it was all worth it. If leaving her homeland to run away from any consequence or reason was a good idea. She had failed in keeping up with the act that she was not actually a princess. She felt lost, because right in this moment, her hope crumbled; every vengeful thought that clouded her mind was suddenly gone. It took less than a moment for her to realize that it was frivolous, and would most likely never lead her to contentment. She felt that her life was left meaningless without purpose, and she had found purpose in wanting to repay morally deficient deeds with more morally deficient deeds. She realized that vengeance was futile. Feelings like hatred, and emotions like anger, would never work. They would never aid Evette in bringing to justice the one man who stared down at her, the one man who she blamed for so many things.

"Do your servants not count?" She lifted her head, and he knew that she had solved the mystery. Eve knew what he was, and now she knew who he was.

"I speak to them by writing words on parchment. They have never heard my voice." His voice was soft, yet it thundered. It frightened all who had ever heard it.

"Do they fear you? Your servants?" She asked, her tone growing louder as she grew more bold.

"Do you fear me?" He asked, refusing to answer her question.

Evette paused, her eyes flickering toward the body at his feet. Collin. The woman. The baby. "You already know the answer." She whispered.

"Yes," He took a step forward, and Evette flinched. He was standing far away, yet close enough for her to feel uneasy. He could have been standing miles away and she would have still felt uncomfortable. "I know that you are very much afraid."

"How could I not be?" She asked calmly.

"I have no reason to give you. I understand why you feel such an emotion."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I have thought about it, but I do not think I will." He said seriously.

Evette's heart skipped another beat. "Are you going to tell me the truth of who you are then?"

"Do you need me to explain everything? Are you not capable of figuring it out yourself?"

"I want to hear it from you." Evette lowered the wooden torch she had held level with her stomach. She dropped it again, realizing that it would not save her from the darkness, or help her in defending herself if he were to attack. "Who are you?"

"I am Dracul Dregoth," His expression darkened, showing emotion for the first time. "The man whom many mortals fear. The King in the West, and the entity who guards the Gates of Wisdom."

The truth struck her like lightening. It thundered through her similarly to how Dracul's voice boomed in her ears. He was the embodiment of sadness; pain that would never cease to exist. Of life; of death, and of everything that held magic. That fact was no longer a mystery, but how he came to be such darkness was still unknown to Eve.

"Do you know who I am?" Her eyes flashed a deep orange.

"The only daughter of Arwin Star, the King in the East. The entity who has upset the natural balance of existence, and has left fire and blood in her wake."

Evette's hands felt clammy, sweat practically stinging her skin as it coated over the splinters that burdened her palm. "Have you been watching me? Following me?"

"No," He murmured, but Evette did not believe him. "I do not make a habit of spying on people."

"Then how do you know who I am?"

Dracul sighed, purring deeply as he exhaled. "I have kept the truth hidden for many years. Have kept the magic within people dormant and undetectable. I do not share just any truth with those who ask."

"Kill me then," She said. "Kill me if you truly do not believe I am worthy of the truth."

Dracul lifted his left hand, and Evette studied it for a moment. His long, blackened nails were sharp, and the rings his fingers possessed were those that were no doubt worn only by royalty. They were too perfect; too expensive looking.

He closed his fist for a moment, squeezing tight. When he opened his hand, a small puff of shadow appeared, stretching wide until it was thin and oval. The oval shadow turned to smokey glass as it transformed into a clouded mirror that could visually show her the truth. It was a looking glass.

"Do you want me to kill you?"

Evette wondered why he would ask such a question. She imagined how death would feel in the palms of his hands, if it would feel warm, or if it would feel icy. Perhaps it would not hold a temperature, but would instead hold a color. Perhaps if she were destined to go to heaven, it would hold a white light, and if she were hellbound, a dark emptiness. She had a feeling that she was neither heavenbound, nor hellbound. She stood, one foot in the door, and one foot out.

"Do you want to kill me?" She was nervous, and her question seemed unnecessary, but nervousness had caused her to ask strange things in the past. Evette had not felt this way in a long time. Timorous, and jumpy.

Dracul lifted the glass, gripping the smokey handle as he raised it up, and brought it back down in one quick motion. He held out his right hand this time, grabbing hold of a long, thin staff that appeared as he manifested it. The weapon slowly appeared, worn silver engravings burned into the cylindrical staff. Notched, violet indents gave it a texture; the beads at the place where a curved scythe was fused shimmered. The edge of the blade was sharp, and reflected the light. The color of the metal was unique to the blade, but behind the bewitching color, and the glassy beads, was a material that Evette recognized.

The metal sang melodiously as he dropped the looking glass from his left hand, watching as it fell to the dark dirt floor, shattering into shards of shadow that eventually disappeared.

Evette pressed her back up against the wall, feeling the softness of the shadow. Dracul stood slightly taller than her—just tall enough to have to tilt his head downward in order to keep an eye on her.

"As you said, I have a wicked heart," He paused, slamming his staff down into the dirt. Evette turned away as the loud action pierced her ears. "So do not tempt me."

Dracul's expression softened. He had gotten carried away in his sudden bout of anger, his timbre ruinous.

"I simply want the truth." She whispered. "The answers to the questions I hold."

"Wisdom can be burdensome," He glanced down, eyeing the bodies that continued to judder on the floor. "It can strip one of their humanity. Send their bodies into a state of shock, turning them away from normalcy."

"Why have their eyes darkened? Why do they shake?"

He looked over at her. "They have looked upon my face. My eyes."

Her brow furrowed lightly. "I have looked upon your face. I have seen your eyes."

"Never look a Dregoth in the eyes." Dracul warned.

"You are the one who is looking into my eyes."

"It is my choice, I can choose if one is harmed by looking into my eyes. I am able to control it to some degree." He said, his voice monotone.

"You choose not to hurt me." Eve nodded. Her question was rhetorical.

"I would have killed you by now if you had not started talking. Usually, they only scream."

"Why do they scream?" She asked in a whisper.

"You are too curious," He growled. "I am surprised that it has not yet been the death of you."

Evette sighed. Fear still gripped her, but so did anger. "You're an awful king." She blurted out, her lips pinching together in anticipation of his reaction.

Dracul smiled subtly, his pale lips turning up at her words. He glanced down for a moment, before stifling a laugh. He had shown emotion after all.

"Tell me why you feel that way."

"You have killed more elves than one could count. Took fathers and sons away from their families; tore our world apart." She raised her voice, her head held high this time. "You took my brother away from me. The war you waged on my people forced him to fight that day. He was killed because of you, and yet, here you stand, oblivious as to why I hate you with every fiber of my being."

"I did not take your brother away from you."

She growled this time. "Like hell you didn't."

"You cannot blame me for his death. I was not the one who killed him."

Evette scowled fiercely. "Tell me why you're here!" She shouted at him, her emotions drawing it out of her. "Tell me why you're a monster, and not a human! Why you're here with your jewels and shadows, forcing innocent people to writhe on the floor, their eyes blackened. Tell me how you know who I am, and can read my thoughts!"

"Stop shouting at me!" His words echoed through the hall, the sound of his voice burning Eve's ears. He was upset, and she had gotten a rise out of him that even she was not expecting. It thundered, and for a moment, she could see his eyes shimmer darkly. She had awoken the dragon within.

"Make me!" She shouted once more, and quickly quieted when Dracul stalked toward her, stepping over a few bodies on the floor as he did. He lifted his scythe, the curved blade inching toward her throat as she backed into the wall behind her again, her breath hitching.

He held the blade against her throat, careful to hold the long staff steady, his right hand gripping it sharply. "Speak one more word, and I swear I will."

"I wanted to rip your heart out," She said quickly. "And I still do. I want you to feel the pain I feel every single day when I realize that you're still a king. That you're still breathing."

Dracul gripped her by the shoulder, forcing her to turn around, his body suddenly behind her. His front pressed against her back. She had no choice but to glance down at the helpless wolves on the floor, the rounded edge of his blade once again pressed to her throat.

"You're no angel." He whispered in her ear, sending a cold shiver up her spine. He stared down, his gaze falling to one of the wolves on the floor. As their small body shifted, Evette saw their face. She saw their soft blonde hair and their blackened eyes. A young girl turned on her side beside a boy who looked to be her brother. They were two more innocents caught up in the haze of magic that forced the air to turn slightly foggy.

Dracul tightly held Evette, resting his head on her shoulder. "Look at them," he beckoned toward the two young children lying beside each other by tilting his head. "Look at the children of the man whom your wolf killed. Whom you taunted and distracted."

A tear slid down Evette's cheek. Their young eyes were uncovered by the darkness for a short moment, revealing their bright green eyes, filled with fear. Their orbs turned dark after a moment, and Evette tried to free herself from Dracul's grasp, writhing in his cold arms. There was something more to the woman and the baby in her arms she had realized, and now, she could see that there was more to the two blonde children lying close to the others. Chesare. They were his children, and the two other young women who were beside them were their mothers. His wives.

"We have all hurt people," Dracul began. "We have all taken something from an innocent. You blame me for your brother's death, does that mean that they should blame you for the death of their father? For what your wolf did to their mother's husband?" He asked, eyeing Evette.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Narcisse had pushed Chesare, and Eve had watched as he had fallen to his end. She had not considered the fact that he might have had children, or a wife, or two. He had eyed her, longing for a third wife to call his own. She realized that now.

Evette sobbed. She stood, breathless; wordless. Suddenly without fear, only worry and guilt. Dracul released her, but instead of turning her attention toward him, she ran forward, stepping around a few of the wolves, kneeling as she reached down to hold the small blonde girl's head in her hands, sobbing over her shaking body. She had longed to repay Dracul for his wicked deeds. She longed to rip out his cold heart, but her heart felt like it was being ripped out instead. She could only imagine how a child would feel knowing that their father would never be present in their lives to watch them grow. To experience joyful moments.

She thought of Arwin, and her three other stepbrothers. How they did not appreciate her, or treat her right. Perhaps the hurt of having an absent father was lesser than having one who was unloving. She had not known Chesare, so she did not know if he was a good father, or one like her own. If he was a caring man toward his family, or someone who would not be missed by them.

"I will tell you the truth. I will tell you everything, but I cannot bring back what is already lost. No one can bring your brother back to life. No one can resurrect the dead." He frowned.

"You brought me back!" She sobbed loudly, her voice breathy and hoarse. "I died when I was bitten. Narcisse was bound to me then." She whispered his name quietly, her vision blurry from the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Dracul paused, glancing down at her from where he stood, his violet eyes glimmering brightly. "You did not die, you only fell unconscious. I pulled you into my world. My mind."

Evette squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away as she cried on the dusty floor. "I'm tired of the games. I'm tired of guessing." She whispered under her breath, her throat dry.

Dracul snapped his fingers, and just then, all others besides Evette and himself had vanished from the room. They were invisible to Evette's eyes, yet still writhing on the floor. She balled her fists, surprised that the girl who she held in her arms was suddenly gone. She shakily stood, eyes bright as she did.

"Where did they go?" She stepped toward him. "What did you do with them?"

"They are still here, you just cannot see them."

Evette had feared him, but her instincts took over. She rushed toward him. Just before her fists could collide with Dracul's face, he gripped her arm, protecting himself against her weak blow. His serious expression held no emotions again this time.

She felt helpless against him. Eve was weakened by shadow, and the guilt that grew tight in her chest. She struggled against him, but he was oddly patient; calmer than Evette would have imagined. She had spoken even when he told her not to.

"Tell me. Everything." She lifted her head, staring into his eyes as he held her wrist. "I deserve to know the truth."

"Ask nicely this time."

"No," Eve bit out through sore, gritted teeth. "I will show you the same kindness that you showed Collin—the man you killed."

"Lower your voice, and ask me nicely this time." He commanded once more.

"No." Was her simple reply. Dracul gripped her forearm with one hand, holding his lowered weapon with the other. Evette tried to pull away, but she could not free herself from his hold. She lifted her leg, bent her knee, and shoved it forward as hard as she could, successfully kneeing him in the groin.

Dracul did not flinch. He simply stared at Evette, tilting his head confusedly. "Was that supposed to hurt?"

Evette's scowl deepened. If it was even possible for her to look more angry and annoyed than she already was. "For being a man who is greatly feared by many in the western lands, you sure make an underwhelming first impression." She said quietly.

"Underwhelming? How many people have you met that are like me?"

"Underwhelming." She nodded, clearly lying. "Boring. Uninteresting. You aren't even as pretty as I thought you would be, and your voice is more annoying than I would have imagined."

Dracul's smirk turned to a smile. "Are you done insulting me? Done trying to fight me?"

"Would you like me to continue? Because, I surely can."

Dracul released her arm. "I want you to save your breath. You must calm yourself before I will tell you about all that has happened."

"You want me to calm down?" Eve scoffed. "How can I calm down when I just witnessed you kill a man. You put the others under some sort of spell, or something! It is delusional of you to ask me to speak kindly to you, or lower my voice."

"Do you want to know why I have done the things I have done, or not?" He stepped away from her, stepping back a few feet.

She stood, silent for a moment. "I cannot trust you. How do I know that you are not going to lie to me? Find a way to read my mind, and manipulate me?"

"Stop your blabbering!" He groaned, lifting his scythe so he could ready himself before creating a larger mirror of shadow that floated out in front of him, acting as a barrier between Evette and himself.

The shadow was similar to the other he had used to create a small looking glass. The large one that appeared before him—facing Evette—was an extension of that mysterious mirror. He lifted the bottom of his staff from the ground, using the blade to control the shadow as it grew wider, and wider, until it was taller than the both of them, and as wide as the hall. The transparent divider separated them, dividing the room into two enclosed halves. Evette could still see Dracul on the other side, and she admired his beauty through the distorted glass.

"There was once a spirit," Dracul began, his posture relaxed. His soft tone of voice now soothed Evette's ears, coaxing a calmness from within her. "Who was the first of his kind to ever walk this earth."

A picture appeared in the gigantic looking glass. It was a depiction of a man. An image displayed for Evette to see.

"He came from the other side of existence. A dark void called Eurora, a place where dark creatures lurk without being seen by those who exist in this reality. It is a world like ours, except the undead haunt the land; the time loop that is a continuum."

Evette stood, mesmerized by the images that flashed. She allowed him to continue, listening intently to the story he told.

"He was the only spirit who was able to find a way to cross over into this existence at that time. He found a way to inhabit certain vessels belonging to those who are righteous and are meant to stay here, in this world created to separate the living from the fallen." Evette stared at Dracul, his lips moving slowly as he formed words. "That spirit has many names, as he once lived in this reality for a very long time, refusing to return back to his homeland."

"What do they call him?" Evette wondered. It was difficult for her to fully understand all that Dracul was explaining, but she went along with the story, soaking up the details in order to form an opinion about it all. In order to determine if he was indeed telling a truthful story.

"He arrived on this earth before many lands were populated. Humans and elves lived separate from each other, not because they disliked one another, but because their was enough land for them to all live in different places. He inhabited different animal bodies first, before he was able to transfer his soul into a larger vessel. He rallied many; persuaded them to turn against each other and divide lands to build castles, and bow to kings. He was the first of course— the first king to ever rule in the west. He kept his powers hidden from most, but where there are spirits, there is chaos." He cleared his throat gently. "When he first ruled, they called him Immanuel. He was able to live on by possessing a different body every time the body he had previously possessed died. His soul was not meant to exist in this reality, and so the magic his soul possessed would force whatever vessel he was inhabiting to age and decay at a quicker pace. He lived on by tricking the people of his kingdom into believing that his bloodline lived on through his sons and daughters. He took many wives, but never had any children that were related to him by blood, as spirits cannot have children."

"How could he trick them then? If he cannot have children, then how could he fool his subjects?" Evette's brow furrowed.

"Many spirits have powers beyond the comprehension of a mortal. Magic sustains them in Eurora, and while it is not morally right to posses magic in this existence, they can still hold or conjure magic from their homeland. Immanuel was one of the strongest spirits, given that he had the power to create supernatural life." Dracul murmured, waving his hand to change the image that flashed across the shadow.

Blinding blue eyes flashed, and Evette practically gasped. She had seen those eyes. She had known the spirit Dracul spoke of.

"Immanuel could create creatures and force them to do his bidding. He raised them, and changed their perceptions of reality, forcing them to obey him and be the faces that masked his reign." He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking away a memory. "He took on many personas, and would remake himself occasionally, taking on a new name as a new member of the royal family he had created. To his creations, he was known as the Maker, a blue-eyed spirit who would turn ordinary into something dark, and blood-thirsty whenever he had the chance to."

Evette exhaled, her heart practically thumping out of her chest. She shivered nervously.

"He did not just create creatures. He also tried to create humans, and most of his attempts failed," Dracul drew quiet for a moment. "But a few of his experiments were successful, and although some were deformed, and genetically altered in ways, they lived."

"Those eyes," Evette stared blankly at the blue orbs that stared back at her from the looking glass. "I have seen them before."

"Allow me to finish." Dracul said quickly. "As I said before, for a time, he could only create creatures. Pure creatures that did not appear human or in a vessel that looked like those who have inhabited this earth for a very long time. When he did finally have his way, and was able to create creatures who could transform into other species, or use magic to change their appearance," An image of a wild wolf appeared in the glass, before disappearing. "One of those creations rebelled against him. It refused to be one of his puppets, and studied his ways, until the day it found a way to force Immanuel's soul to return to Eurora and remain there for an amount of time."

Evette's head was spinning, but she understood to a degree, and she was curious to find out more.

"Are you alright?" Dracul asked suddenly. "Do you want me to slow down?"

"No," Evette shook her head, oblivious to the small, courteous question. "Keep going."

"The final name Immanuel took on before he was banished, was Ichor. Ichor Dregoth." He said, glancing at Evette from the opposite side of the thin shadow.

"Four sons," Evette remembered. "They say he had four sons."

"He created them at different times, as they were all different. A few had more human characteristics compared to the others." Dracul nodded.

"Are you— are you saying that these wolves are their descendants? Those creatures offspring?"

"Lunar wolves were created for the purpose of serving transition wolves, who are meant to be their keepers. Only one of Immanuel's four sons grew to become what we call a transition wolf. He could father children, and he did, bringing into existence wolves who held more power, in comparison to other lines that branched off from his own." He shifted, his stance relaxed, yet bold. "Immanuel created creatures from the emotions he felt in moments. There are different types of magic that appear to be different colors, but they all have one thing in common, they are able to give mortals, or created creatures, power in every reality. Of course, some mortals are bitten by descendants of the original transition wolf, and so do not fully trace back to him."

"And his other sons?" Evette noticed Dracul tilt his head. He wished to avoid the question, but there was no going back now. He had already shared too much.

"Only two fathered children. Jotham was the name of the wolf, and Giovanni the guardian. Jotham had many children, while Giovanni had only a daughter. He found a way to turn his love into a guardian just like him, so they could one day be together again in the afterlife—Eurora, the place where supernatural creatures go once they pass on." Dracul twirled his weapon, spinning the scythe slowly in his hand as he spoke. It was a habit he once thought he had broken. "His third son, Octavian, had assisted his other brother in banishing their creator."

"The fourth?" Dracul cringed as she spoke the words, barely letting on.

"It took him a long while to find a way to force his creator to go back to where he came from. He was always the quiet one. The one who would get made fun of by the others for the way he looked, and dressed. He was the only one out of the four creatures created by Immanuel that was unable to ever have children, as he shared little in common with humans or others."

"His name?"

"Care to guess?" Dracul asked seriously.

"Can he turn into a dragon?" She asked, tilting her head. "Does he have violet eyes?"

"Indeed." He nodded, suddenly conscious of Evette's intelligent curiosity.

"How do I have anything to do with all of this?" She asked after a moment.

"Banishing Immanuel was no easy task. There were many items that were used to aid in removing his soul from the body he inhabited at the time. One of those items was a necklace. That specific cross was a symbol of Immanuel's reign— which is now the only artifact left of him on this earth. I thought I had destroyed every item, and every person who could have called to him on the other side, but I realize now that I failed at keeping this realm safe from him when I refused to destroy that necklace, and I allowed a necromancer to remain here in this world in hopes that she would better herself. In hopes that she would turn away from the dark, and find peace in an ordinary existence."

"The entity who guards the Gates of Wisdom," Evette blinked. "You have hidden the truth from us. Is that true?"

"I have tried to," He gritted his teeth, angry at himself. "Once I overthrew Immanuel, I was able to harness his power and attach it to my being, fully taking his magic to keep as my own. The necklace I spoke of, was the item I used to cut into the existence that is parallel to ours, Eurora of course. The cross I used to banish him was stolen from me. Stolen from a sacred place only I knew." He breathed. "One can find strong materials amongst the mountains, not only in the east, but on all sides of this world. Those materials can protect us against creatures that live in Eurora, but if those types of metal weapons get into the wrong hands, they can be very dangerous. Your people would know the name of this metal as Moreleah, but it can have many names depending on where it comes from. The most common variant you will find today was found in the Silver Mountains, during the time forest folk stole from the mines years ago. Those with stronger, more creaturely abilities can call to those metals in search of more power. When the necklace was stolen from me, I could not call to it, as it was then that my powers started to dwindle. The silver that adorned the necklace was from those mountains. It had been lost for many years, but then there came a day when I felt Immanuel's presence on this earth again. I could feel that something was wrong, but I did not fully know what. He has again crossed back over into this existence, and plans to repay me for taking the power he once possessed. He convinced the necromancer to help him cross back over, and has taken some of her power to do so. He is weak, and can only fully restore his power by creating life. You were the first to be affected by the magic he has restored within himself, upsetting the natural balance of existence I had created here on this earth. I forced many to forget the truth, as I held magic that could wipe the memories of those meant to have no knowledge of such things."

"You stole his magic, and his kingdom, and now he's back for revenge?" She asked, watching as more images flashed. She was watching it all unfold once more, except, through depictions this time.

"Unfortunately, yes, and he plans to use anyone he can control to help him take back what was once his. You have known the cost of war, but this is no ordinary war. With him in this reality, no one is safe, and he will stop at nothing to destroy the peace I had created once I was crowned."

"The necklace you speak of belonged to my brother, Argyle. He gave it to me when I was young, and I had kept it. I have seen those blue eyes, and I know of the body Immanuel must now be possessing. It's my brothers corpse." She realized.

"When the necklace was in my possession, there was no possible way he could have crossed back over, as he cannot inhabit a body that is supernatural. He is cursed, and can only inhabit the bodies of humans or elves. He must have chosen to return by inhabiting your brother's body, because he was most likely the last person who had ever prayed over the necklace, gracing it with a divine power. He was once able to restore the bodies of dying elves and creatures, and I am sure he has spent many years on the other side pondering how he could restore the bodies of those who are already dead."

"He shot me with an arrow," Evette shook her head, hating the memory of that day. "Does that mean that he wishes to control me? To turn me into a monster he can control?"

"I could sense your presence the day that your powers shook the earth. That night, I was able to locate you, and when you were bound to your wolf, I pulled your spirit into a realm that could protect you if you chose to stay. That gloomy place was one I created. It is a place within my mind."

"Can the Maker pull my spirit into a realm inside of his mind as well? Is that how he called to me to tell me to meet him in the forest?" Eve asked quickly. "Can I call to him too?"

"Most supernaturals can call to one another without being near each other. Besides the necklace, I am not fully sure why he would want to simply speak to you." Dracul frowned. "Be careful Evette, for he is a spirit more wicked than I could ever be. Cruel and dangerous."

Evette glanced away, forcing herself to look away from the glass. "You could be lying to me." She whispered.

"You hate me," Dracul said, stepping through the shadow that had acted as a barrier between them, shards of shadow falling to the ground as Evette turned away. "I am the evil you wish to slay. I have hurt elves for reasons that were unjustified. I want to kill you. It is an urge that I fight every single day. I want to kill them all— every elf—because I was created to destroy those who opposed Immanuel. Elves have always fought back against the reign of humans, or men who claim to be human."

Evette turned back to him, fists balled. "I cannot forgive you for the things you have done to my people. I will not forgive you."

"I understand." He held his scythe close. The lean muscles of his chest flexed as he stood up straighter. He turned his head, long, dangling diamond hoops hung from his right ear. His jewels shimmered greatly under the light they both stood under. "My brothers, and the necromancer, are the only ones who have ever known about this, besides you. You know the truth, and I could kill you for that, but I am a fair man. When I fight an opponent, I fight with honor."

"Says the man who paralyzed an entire room of wolves, and killed an innocent man!"

"I have my reasons." He growled, and Evette felt her heart skip more than just a single beat. "No wolf is innocent—not even the young wolves. They are better off dead, than sitting down here pondering who will lead their rebellion. I am not the enemy, at least not the one they should be concerned with. I no longer hold the power to erase memories, or suppress magic, as I grow weaker each day Immanuel walks this earth. . . I will not kill you, but I will not allow you to live either. I was conditioned from a young age to kill. To do away with many of your kind, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Evette took another long look at Dracul, staring at him with wide eyes. She was not expecting an apology. Hell, she was not expecting a dragon. Or a man who could turn into one.

Evette crossed her arms over her chest. "We have a common enemy, and gathering from what you have said to me, I assume he would be very difficult to defeat."

"Yes. Immanuel and the necromancer will be, which is why I must preserve my strength. Killing you would weaken me."

Evette nodded, knowingly nervous. "Tell me more about this necromancer."

"She was the only creature who followed Immanuel through the portal when he first found a way to leave his homeland. Those in Eurora knew her as Aválene, a spirit of the night. One who could speak to the dead and dying, and help them to better rest. I befriended her during the time he still ruled, and I trusted her. When I banished him, I did not force Avá to go back to Eurora, and I instead chose to give her a chance to redeem herself. She said that she wanted to live a normal life, but as time went on, her perception of reality started to change. Eurora mirrors this reality—the land drawn on the map that we have here is entirely similar to the land in Eurora, the only difference is that there are many islands in the ocean. Sometimes it is difficult for creatures like Avá and Immanuel to separate this reality from their own. Things start to blur after a while. For most created beings, it only takes one year for their hearts to harden, and their minds to darken. They are not meant to exist in this reality, and so they must face consequences."

Evette was weak in the knees. Not because Dracul continued to stare, but because she was starting to believe him. She was starting to believe the man whom she hated most. It was all starting to make sense.

"Will my perception of this reality change too?"

"It would depend on how much magic you posses. What your powers are." He said flatly.

"Fire. I can conjure fire, and I can fly. I'm not sure what else I can do though. I'm new to all of this." She breathed.

"May I see your wings?"

Evette hesitated. She told herself to be wary of him, and to not fully trust him. She turned, gathering strands of her hair so she could push them away from her back, revealing more of the uncovered slits at her back. She hesitantly closed her eyes, conjuring the strength she needed to allow herself to unfurl her winds before Dracul. They stretched toward him as she turned, exposing them to the air.

"May I touch them?" He asked, pulling his pale hand away at the last moment. She assumed his action was ill-intentioned, but it was not. He had begun to reach for one of her white wings innocently, and she shifted at the last moment.

"No," Evette growled. "You may only look at them."

Dracul would have mumbled an apology, but Evette turned away again, her back facing him. His lips pressed into a hard line.

"A magical arrow did this," He examined her wings without touching them. "My brother, Giovanni, created them before he died. He found a way to fuse magic into weapons. He wished to create such a thing so his wife could become a guardian after their child was born. Cellshard arrows were the weapons he created first, they only partially turned her into a guardian. Gave her wings, and some power, but did not fully effect her. When he was able to design an arrow that held more magic elements—a Soulshard arrow—he was able to fully turn her into an immortal being. One who could cross over into the afterlife. Immanuel must have been able to harness a similar power, one that could fuse the powers of a guardian, and the powers of those fueled by fire. A more emotional magic I suppose." He turned to face her. "Your wings are a mutation of those that belong to angels, and the fire you are able to control is that of a demon. You are an elven angel, with a demonic temper." He laughed.

Evette folded her wings away behind her back, removing them from Dracul's line of sight. "What about you and your brothers? Do you hold magic that effects your emotions?"

"We are pure shifting creatures, though we share similar traits to others. All other creatures created after us usually share mixed emotions and multiple different traits from other species. Giovanni was the first angel, Jotham the first werewolf; Octavian the first Owke—a bird shifter that is both an owl and a hawk—and then there is I, the first dragon shifter. They all feel emotions, of course, but I am the only one who was created solely from an emotion Immanuel felt."

"What emotion?" She brushed her hair back away from where she had pushed it over her shoulder.

"Sadness. Sorrow." He murmured. "Memories often hold emotions. I choose to remain here in this reality, because there is nothing for me in Eurora. Giovanni and Jotham have crossed over, so they could keep others safe from their bouts of violence. We were all trained to fulfill different purposes, and it can be difficult to contain us if we suddenly remember certain things. If we are reminded of the times when we all used to live near one another. Octavian has remained here, as he has not yet chosen to settle down, or travel to Eurora."

"What will you do now? How can you defeat a spirit from another realm. You bested him once, but that does not mean you will be able to again." Eve frowned, still reeling from the anger she felt.

"That is for me to figure out, and you to not worry about. Stay away from Immanuel, and stay away from anyone who holds magic. Never trust a spirit, or a necromancer, or anyone who claims to be able to envision the future."

"Should I simply stop fighting for what I believe in?" She asked. "Just sit back while our world is torn apart by you or anyone else who seeks to destroy it?"

"Yes. Take your wolf, and leave. Take him far away from this place. Go home, or live a life in the countryside where there are mountains and no castles— it does not matter. Forget about vengeance, and leave me be, for you cannot kill what is undead." He warned.

Evette knew that he was right. She should run from him— from all that was supernatural— but she could never run from herself. She was a supernatural being now, and she would never have a normal life.

When Dracul snapped his fingers, the wolves at Evette's feet reappeared. They still shook vigorously, and groaned in pain. She glanced down, though distanced herself from the thought that they were being hurt by Dracul. He stood in the center of the hall, and as Evette backed away from him, she realized how close they were standing. His eyes had drawn her in, and she was simply curious.

Eve wiped the tears from her eyes, stiffening as she felt a sudden tremor shake the ground beneath her feet. She looked up at Dracul, assuming that it was his magic that had shaken the earth. He stared back at her, his eyes flashing a deeper shade of purple.

"Why did you do that?" Evette asked, eyeing him frustratedly.

"I did not do anything." He said in response, quickly glancing up to see streams of brown dirt fall from the ceiling, the dirt beams rumbling, while the ground beneath them also shook.

Evette tried to steady herself. "Then, what is that?!" She raised her voice as dirt fell from the high ceiling above her, the granules of sand falling onto her head.

"I'm not sure." His expression darkened, and at the flick of his thin wrist, more light illuminated the hall, shining down on them from where it floated.

Dracul forced the wall of shadow around them to thin, forcing it away from the walls, the excess swirling around him as he lifted his scythe. Evette swallowed hard, fear striking her further as small patches of dirt above her head began to fall, ruining the ancient carved images.

"It's going to cave in!" She called to him.

Dracul exhaled. He stood feet away from her, and his expression held little emotion. He did not fear the shaking ground, or the ceiling that began to rain dirt down upon his head. He reached up, and brushed the granules away from his silken hair, more concerned with it touching his skin than he was about it suffocating him.

"I came here to find you. To kill you before you could be manipulated by Immanuel, and used against me as a weapon," He said calmly, staring down at Evette as she frantically breathed deep breaths. "I removed the mark he placed upon you, so you may never again be burdened by spirits who he may allow to posses your soul. You are free to live your own life, away from such control. I will give you the choice to free yourself from the dark reality of the supernatural." He raised his weapon higher, extending it toward the ceiling. "Run from me, and I will not run after you. Chase me, and I will surely kill you."

Evette watched as the wall of shadow around them slowly faded. Darkness pooled around Dracul, cloaking him in dark garments, covering his pale frame. She wished to scream audibly, but she instead scolded herself without making a sound. She knew that vengeance was surely futile, but there was a part of her that refused to give in to doubt. She pushed, and pushed, until all she could think of was the pain she had felt. All of the tears, and all of the bouts of anger, colliding into one big ball of pent up energy that fueled her adrenaline and clouded her judgment. She loved it; she craved it, the feeling she felt when she was under the influence of flame. Dracul may have been created out of sadness and sorrow, but Evette was reborn out of anger and hatred.

"I will not be manipulated by him, nor will I be by you." She balled her fists, grit covering her fingers. "I may not have chosen to be born into the family I was, or have been able to control how others have treated me, but I can make my own decisions now, and I choose to chase you. I choose to keep the promise I made to myself, and seek vengeance. You are my enemy, whether you choose to free me or choose to allow me to be marked by the Maker, is irrelevant. Perhaps you are right— no one can resurrect the dead—but I do not seek to bring them back to life. I only want for one thing," She felt particles of sand touch the outer corners of her eyes, burning the white of her eyes as they shifted. "To rest easy at night knowing that I have rid this world of evil people like you. We have all done bad things, but some sins are unforgivable."

Shadow drew closer to Dracul's face, touching his violet skin as it brushed over him. Evette could see the bones beneath, pale and sharp. His eyes sparkled, but his smile drew dark. He leered at her, forcing her to grow even more nervous than she was before. She saw him in all of his undead beauty— all of his living, breathing, glory.

"Have it your way," Darkness shadowed beneath the emptiness of his skeleton, jewels glittering at his collar. His jaw moved, and his gaze shifted, veins dripping drops of dark blood behind his eyes. "Seek to punish me for my crimes against your people. You will reap what you sow, one way, or another." He gripped his scythe, his bone fingers scraping against the soft metal as his rings loosened on his fingers. He reached up with his other hand, pushing back his long black hair at the side of his face that was still covered by lustrous skin, uncovering his left ear.

He was more than just a created being. More than a successful experiment. Dracul was a man, one who held power beyond Evette's wildest dreams. It dwindled, but even in a weakened state, he was powerful enough to do extraordinary things. His long, pointed ear had been covered by his hair, concealing who he truly was. He was an elf, one who had spent most of his life imprisoned by the pain his creator had inflicted. He was not a human, nor an ordinary being—he was the first dragon shifter, the king who had chosen to rule over mortals, and the entity who fiercely guarded the Gates of Wisdom.

Evette stared, utterly amazed, and confused at the same time. The shadow that encloaked him grew stronger, and as he began to ascend from where he stood on the ground, he turned his scythe to the ceiling, hurling his magic into the air toward the falling dirt. He had entered the underground through the same tunnel that led Evette down from the surface, but he would not be leaving the same way he came.

Shadow swallowed the dirt that fell from the area of ceiling above his head, eating away at it with a quickness. The darkness tore through the ceiling, forcing its way through to the hall above, leaving nothing in its path. The light above Evette's head disappeared as Dracul lifted his arms, the wall of shadow disappearing completely.

The hall was left as if he had never stepped over the bodies that lied on the floor, or covered the walls in darkness, forcing Evette to stay within its confines. Thunder echoed, which left Evette with two ringing ears as Dracul ascended into the air, his eyes dark, yet still light in color. His long, blackened nails clawed at his own palms, fire igniting below the shadow beneath his feet. The flames covered the walls, replacing the darkness that once lingered.

"You want to chase me," She heard his booming voice. "Then chase me through shadow. Meet your bitter end by my hands, and face death."

Fire engulfed the hall, reaching the wolves who thrashed on the floor, their hazy screams further piercing Evette's ears. The fire ate away at their bodies while the shadow consumed the ceiling, carving a wide tunnel that stretched all the way up to the surface.

Evette could not put out the flames. They fully engulfed the wolves, leaving her to sob and clutch the fabric of her shirt as she witnessed them all burn. The flames circled around her, but did not touch her. Dracul left her unburnt as he ascended, reaching the surface within a moment, his shadow covered body disappearing amongst the twilight above ground.

• • • •