Something kicked Ochrehand out of the fever dream. Even while thrashing, his mind was a match for hers.
She worked for hours in the forest clearing, trying every healing trick she knew. The bear stayed nearby, its massive body giving off heat that helped stabilize the vampire's failing systems. But as night wore on, Ochrehand faced a hard truth: forest magic alone wouldn't save him. His synthetic components were failing too fast, poisoning his organic systems as they died.
With a grim look, she built a travois from nearby branches. It would help bring him closer to her people, a huge risk. But the vision had shown him standing with them when darkness came. She couldn't let that future die without at least trying to make it happen.
***
"Shaman!" The youngest guard, Koric, went pale when he saw what lay on her travois. "By the old magic, is that...?"
"A chance." She let her voice carry quiet power. Word would spread fast through the village. She had just moments to take control. "Get Boarstaff. Tell him the visions were true. The time has come."
The guard hesitated; spear still aimed at the unconscious vampire. "The warchief is with the council. They'll want to-"
"Now, Koric." She let her eyes flash with power that made the young guard step back. "Before more blood soaks our soil."
As Koric raced toward the Heart Tree, Ochrehand felt the weight of watching eyes all around her. Her people gathered slowly, pulled in by curiosity and fear. Their whispers carried accusations of madness, of treason, of bringing doom to their doorstep.
"Clear a path to the healing house," she ordered the remaining guards. No one moved. "Would you rather I treat him here, out in the open, where children might see?"
That broke their stillness. The guards moved ahead of her, creating a path through the growing crowd. Some mothers pulled their children away, while warriors gripped their weapons white-knuckled. Ochrehand kept her eyes forward, ignoring the whispers that followed her.
The healing house stood in the Heart Tree's shadow, a wooden structure whose living walls had grown rather than been built, shaped by generations of shamans who understood the balance between magic and medicine. Crystal formations grew naturally inside, small cousins to the massive clusters that filled the sacred chambers beneath theHeart Tree itself.
"You bring corruption to our sacred spaces," someone called from the crowd.
Others muttered agreement.
Ochrehand ignored them, dragging the vampire's travois into the healing house's main chamber. The small crystals in the walls pulsed at his presence, power recognizing power, magic sensing the strange mix of synthetic and organic that vampire "improvements" had created.
Sebastian convulsed as soon as they crossed the threshold. The healing house's magic, though gentle compared to the Heart Tree's depths, still reacted to his synthetic components. Steam burst from his collar in irregular puffs, carrying scents of copper and decay.
"What magic is this?" A voice from the doorway made her turn.
Doechaser, oldest of the shamans, stood watching with aged eyes that missed nothing. Her keen gaze followed the ground where the travois had passed before settling on the vampire's still form.
"You know the visions, Elder." Ochrehand began laying out her herbs, picking leaves and roots that might help stabilize their burden. "The one that came to me in the forest last moon cycle. I found him hunting. His synthetic components failed when my magic touched them."
"So, you decided to bring him here?" Doechaser moved closer, her withered fingers weaving magic patterns that made nearby crystals flare a protective yellow. "Into our home? Our sanctuary?"
"Where else should I bring the fulfillment of prophecy?" Ochrehand challenged, though her voice stayed respectful. "The vision showed him standing with us when darkness comes. Fighting alongside our warriors."
"Visions can be misread." But Doechaser knelt beside the vampire, her magic probing deeper. Her eyes widened slightly. "His brass... it's responding differently than expected. Almost as if..."
"As if it remembers what it was before vampire artifice shaped it to their will," Ochrehand finished. She pressed her hands to Sebastian's chest, feeling his heart struggle beneath her fingers. "The metal in him isn't just dying. It's trying to wake to something older."
Heavy footsteps announced new arrivals before Ochrehand could explain further. Boarstaff, warchief of the Heartwood Clan, filled thedoorway, his powerful form blocking the faint morning light. The scars on his tusks caught the crystal light as his eyes fixed on the unconscious vampire. Behind him, several council members crowded forward, their expressions darkening at the sight before them.
"The visions showed him to me," Ochrehand said before accusations could fly. "He's the one who will help us save both our peoples." She took a deep breath. "The one who will stand with you when the darkness comes."
Boarstaff's expression didn't change, but his energy shifted. He'd learned to trust her visions, even when they made no sense. Even when they hurt. Of all the clan, he was the one who stood by her and her sight.
"Show me," he said finally.
She pressed her fingers to the vampire's temples, letting the vision flow between their minds. She showed him blood on snow, magic merging with metal, two figures moving as one through winter wind. Showed him everything she'd seen. Everything she'd staked her position on.
When it ended, Boarstaff's eyes held a new light. He reached out to touch the vampire's face, his strong fingers gentle against pale skin. "Do you know his name?"
"Sebastian," she answered. "Sebastian de la Sang. Crown prince of House de la Sang."
