Sylvin lifts his hand, spinning a slow circle with his fingers and a swirl of frost-kissed mist spills across the forest floor, curling at our feet. He lets out a dramatic breath and steps just to the edge of the portal before glancing over his shoulder.
“Try not to look too intimidated, little echo,” he says, eyes glinting with amusement. “They’re far more civilized than they look. Except when they’re hungry.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse kicks up anyway as I walk to his side. Then we step through together.
On the other side, the world is dusky and drenched in shadow. Wrought-iron balconies twist like black vines along timeworn buildings, their edges slick with recent rain. Gas lanterns flicker in the distance, casting long shadows over cobbled streets. Jazz drifts faintly through the air–low, slow, and mournful, like the city itself is singing.
The moment our feet hit the damp stone on the other side, the temperature drops and light humidity presses in. The buildings are tall and made of carved stone, and the entire scene before me is trimmed in delicate dark metal that curls in ornate patterns. Thick drapes hang behind arched windows. Tall lanterns lining the cobblestone street cast pools of golden light along the balconies, flickering gently in the mist.
Figures move in the shadows. They don’t approach, but I can feel their eyes on us, sending a chill down the back of my neck.
The stillness presses in and suddenly I’m holding my breath alongside the city.
Sylvin spreads his arms like he’s greeting old friends at a dinner party, shattering the rising tension.
“Darlings,” he calls out, voice smooth and far too loud, “did you miss me?”
Sylvin inhales deeply beside me before turning and winking.
“Oh, how I haven’t missed this dreary place,” he murmurs, voice smooth and a touch too loud. “Still so…dreadfully monochrome.”
His antics relieve the coiling fear building within my stomach, but the reprieve doesn’t last long.
There’s a hiss of movement from above and my body stiffens instinctively.
Shadows peel from a nearby balcony and they begin to emerge.
Tall, graceful figures dressed in dark silks and structured coats, their collars high and buttons gleaming. Some wear gloves and others hold wine glasses filled with a dark scarlet liquid.
Each of their steps is precise and controlled, very much like what I’ve seen from Riven.
There’s no doubt as their glowing red eyes flicker to life: this is a vampire nest.
Sylvin smiles brighter, like he’s thrilled with himself, and I resist the surging desire to kick him in the shin.
How does he find this fun?
Their eyes track each breath I take like it’s delicate and rare. I see the hunger simmering beneath their civility, too well-mannered to pounce, but only just.
Sylvin claps his hands once.
“Come now, friends, don’t be shy,” he calls, pacing forward with slow, deliberate elegance. “At least one of you must remember how to sayhello.”
His voice bounces off the stones, too bright in the heavy air and I hiss between my teeth at him.
“I really think you’ve stirred them up enough, Sylvin.”
My heart pounds, the steady rhythm ringing in my ears as I scan the area, expecting one of them to jump out at any moment.
“Little echo,” he breathes out, pulling a hand to his chest like I’ve wounded him. “You know of my powers and yet you think a few vampires can hurt you while I’m here?”
I lift my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.
Just as I open my mouth to answer him, I hear the clanging of footsteps echoing. My head snaps to the left side of the street where a handful of vampires descend the steps of a nearby terrace. Their long dresses brush the damp ground as they approach with delicate grace. One of them–a woman in a corseted crimson gown–tilts her head as she steps into the light, her gaze trained on Sylvin.
Her voice is smooth as velvet, and laced with hunger. “Looking to be tasted, Fae King?”
Sylvin gasps–full-body, hands-to-his-heart dramatic. “Darling, please. I’m already claimed. Don’t think so lowly of me.”
