The wind hit Chase like a slap—cold, biting, real. He stumbled out of the collapsing gate, coughing on smoke and dust, the obsidian tunnel behind him crumbling into nothing.
He was free.
But it didn't feel like victory.
The night sky stretched out above him, stars blinking like distant ghosts. Every breath hurt. His legs barely worked. Magic buzzed under his skin—too much, too unstable. It was like he'd stolen lightning and now it was trying to rip its way out.
He collapsed in a clearing just beyond the mountain's edge. Burnt grass crunched beneath him. His cloak was half-singed, his hands bloody, knuckles raw.
Alora found him first.
She dropped beside him, eyes wide. "Chase! You made it!"
"Barely," he rasped.
She didn't cry. She just helped him sit up, wrapping his cloak tighter around him like it would keep the weight of the world off his shoulders.
"Is it done?" she asked.
He looked back at the mountain, a black silhouette against the stars. Smoke poured from cracks like the earth itself was exhaling poison. The Council's stronghold was gone. The gate shattered.
"Yeah," he said, voice hollow. "But it doesn't feel like it."
Alora handed him a water flask. "We should move. They'll come looking."
Chase nodded. But something in him held back. He stared into the dark, fingers twitching.
"There was something else," he muttered. "Marius... he said I wasn't just a vampire. That I'm... some kind of arcane convergence."
"Sounds like cult-speak," Alora said, trying to lighten the mood.
But Chase didn't laugh.
"He mentioned my parents," he continued, voice distant. "Said they tried to bury the truth. But I don't remember them. I don't know who they were. I just know I ended up at that orphanage in East Hollow. No name. No past. Just a baby and a blood curse."
Alora looked at him, soft but serious. "Maybe it's time to find out."
Chase blinked. "Find what?"
She reached into her satchel and pulled out something wrapped in old cloth. Carefully, she handed it to him.
"I didn't tell you this before... but while we were infiltrating the archives, I found this. Hidden in a vault labeled Project Nox. It had your name on it."
Chase unwrapped it slowly.
Inside was a pendant. Jet-black, shaped like a crescent fang, with glowing crimson script carved into the surface. Not in Common. Not in Elvish. Something older. Primal.
His hand trembled as he picked it up. The moment his skin touched it—
Flash.
Images. Sounds. Feelings.
A woman's voice, warm and fierce. "Chase, if you ever find this… it means they've found you."
A figure with white hair and golden eyes. A sword made of starlight. Blood.
So much blood.
Then darkness.
Snap—he gasped and dropped the pendant like it had burned him.
Alora grabbed his arm. "What did you see?!"
Chase stared at the fang on the ground, eyes wide.
"I saw… her. My mother. I think."
He clutched his chest. His heart was racing. Not from fear—but recognition.
"She was powerful. Like, crazy powerful. And someone was chasing her. Hunting her."
He looked at Alora, realization dawning.
"They weren't just hiding my past. They were trying to keep me from becoming like her."
Alora leaned in. "And now that you've awakened… maybe the world's gonna find out why she was so dangerous."