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Chapter 22
Thalia
As I slowly regain consciousness, a shuddered breath catches in my chest, and my eyes flutter open. Confusion washes over me as I take in my surroundings. Gone are the soft cream-colored walls of my prison. They’ve been replaced with the dark dinge of a dense forest. I’m standing on a small platform overlooking a large group of men and women gathered below.
Panic sets in as I realize my wrists are bound together, secured by rough ropes that cut into my skin. Desperate to break free, I frantically search for a spell to release me from this nightmare. But as I try to scream, I’m met with silence—my lips sealed shut with an unknown force. Fear grips me as I realize they have been stitched together with twine.
This cannot be happening. It must be a dream. But the pain coursing through my body and the warmth of blood trickling down my face tell me otherwise. The torches surrounding me cast flickering shadows, adding to the horror of this surreal scene.
“Talyssa Petrea.”
The name is crowed from the crowd, whip sharp, stinging through the air. My eyes follow the voice, dread pitting in my stomach when my gaze catches his.
Grégoire Saint Clair.
How do I know this? The simple answer is…I don’t. This isn’t my dream; it’s someone else’s memory. Maybe going to bed hungry was a mistake, and now I’m paying the price for it. All I can do now is observe silently. He has taken away my voice, leaving me powerless to speak the truth about him. He’s a monster, a devil under the spell of one of the most influential vampires in history. If only his followers knew the true nature of who he really is.
“You have been convicted of heresy against the Almighty and his followers,” he sneers, throwing his arms up, voice ringing out into the night. He’s putting on a show, exciting the crowd who scream out “witch” and “traitor.” Many of them are people I grew up with. Called friends. And they have turned on me without a second thought. An entire village of Judases. “Renounce your worship of the dark prince and be redeemed for your sins so that you might enter the golden gates of heaven upon your death. Repent so that He might forgive you.”
That’s a stall of horse shit he’s spewing from his lips. If only the good people of Salem knew his true intentions. Who he really is. What he really is. If only they knew about the ampules of vampire blood he has stowed away. If he was human, he would never have caught me, but he’s used magic and blood to become something more. Something dark and dangerous.
A strigoi. Not quite a vampire but not human either. Strigoi are darker, more nefarious forms of dhampir, made by ingesting or injecting vampiric blood and the blood of other species. It creates dark, feral hybrids like the one before me.
Except he isn’t feral or going mad.
Because I believed that I could fix him, and now the beast stands before me whole. Now he has turned against me and those like me.
“Tell us where your family has fled, and all will be forgiven.”
I’d rather die. Let them burn me for my sins. They will never find what they are looking for. My silence is answer enough for him. A growl looses from his lips as his eyes shift, slipping into a blood red that quickly dissipates as he gains control.
“Tell us!”
Thunder cracks in the distance. Lightning streaks the sky and the rain begins to pour. It won’t save me, not tonight, but I’ve known this for years. My gold cord of fate ends right here, but not before I get the last word. He silenced my voice, believing that I need it to cast.
But I’m no mere kitchen witch.
I’m Talyssa Petrea, daughter of the great Witch King of Romania.
It takes a mere flick of my fingers for the twine sewn into my lips to twist and break. The crowd gasps, stepping back as horror rounds their eyes. But I’m not freeing my body. Just my voice.
“Know this, Saint Clair,” I hiss at him. “On the night that the great star passes over the sea, a witch will be born in the blood of the crown. Flames will flicker, and the power will pass to the one who will bring hope and light. From the shadows will three Kings arise to stand by their Queen’s side. They’ll awaken the past and burn to ashes the Ancient with silver blood. That which was stolen will be set free, and the four crowns shall rule as one.”
There’s more sitting there on the tip of my tongue, but it is stolen as the flames leap up from beneath me, stalling the prophecy and the warning that comes with it. Even through the haze of pain, I can see the smirk on his face.
It doesn’t matter.
The prophecy will be fulfilled in a haze of death and despair.
My chest rises and falls rapidly, my breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. A primal scream tears its way up my throat, the sharp edges of it like shards of glass scraping against my esophagus. It ricochets off the walls of the room, echoing like a gunshot. I wrench myself upright in bed, fighting against the hands that hold me in place. The terror grips at me, making my heart race and my muscles ache. But then I hear it—someone calling my name, their voice smooth and rich like whiskey. The gentle scent of bergamot fills my senses, its calming aroma slowly pulling me out of the nightmare. My struggles cease, but I keep my eyes tightly shut, afraid to see what horrors may lurk beyond the safety of my closed eyelids.
It didn’t feel like a nightmare.
It felt real.
“Thalia.” Another soft call of my name. “Wake up. It’s just a dream. Open your eyes.”
Except those flames felt real as they licked at my skin. With a ragged breath, I open my eyes. Drystan is leaning over me, his brow creased as he looks down at me with an expression I might mistake for concern if he wasn’t such a devil.
