Chapter 1 — Chapter 1

Althea

It’s over. My God, I can’t believe it’s over. I sink into the warm strength of my father’s arms, the rough texture of his coat scratching against my cheek, the faint scent of sage and cedar wrapping around me like a memory. Fear and desperation seep out of me as I tremble against him.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he says, his voice gentle but thick with emotion, a faint tremor betraying the pain he’s held for so long. “He’s gone now.”

“Gone?” I blink in confusion, my mind flashing to Torin’s blood-streaked face as he shoved me toward freedom just hours ago, before the ambush took him. “What do you mean gone?”

Dad strokes the hair from my face, brushing his lips over my forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now.”

“But, Dad—” Gravel scrapes under my stumbling feet as he half-carries me toward the line of waiting vehicles. Headlights blind me, and I twist in his grip, searching desperately for Torin’s van through the sea of unfamiliar faces. “Dad, please… Torin…”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart,” Dad murmurs, his tone heavy. “That vampire can’t hurt you anymore.”

My knees buckle. “No! No – no, he can’t be dead!”

“Not yet.” His voice turns grim, jaw tightening. “But if he makes it, the Conclave will decide his fate. They don’t show mercy to his kind—execution would be too kind after what they’ve taken from us.”

*Oh, thank God, he’s alive.*

But captive… Execution?

I have to do something.

“Althea!” Mom rushes forward, the familiar lavender of her perfume hitting me before her trembling hands touch my face. “Oh, my baby girl…”

Seeing her, my heart swells, and I melt into her embrace, her arms tight as if she’ll never let go. “Mom,” I choke out. “I missed you so much.”

“Baby…” She’s sobbing, shaking as she holds me. For a fleeting moment, we cling to each other, tears mingling.

But anxiety surges again, sharp and cold.

“Dad,” I turn to him, voice raw, “we have to do something.”

“Yes. We’re leaving now,” he says firmly.

“No. You don’t understand!” I tug against his hold. “Torin helped me escape. The Maker’s Bond—a vampire’s unbreakable tie to their creator—should have forced his obedience, but he broke it for me. It’s killing him. We have to go back!”

“Go back?” Dad frowns, his grip unyielding. “Sweetheart, we’re taking you home. Where we can take care of you.”

Gran appears beside us, her green eyes sharp with concern, though a flicker of doubt crosses her face as she glances toward the shadowed distance where Torin might be held. “Althea, darling, you’re safe now. Whatever that creature made you believe—”

“He didn’t make me believe anything!” My voice cracks as I fight harder. “Torin defied his maker to save me—how can you ignore that sacrifice?”

“Stockholm Syndrome,” someone mutters from the crowd. I catch Vera and Seraphine hovering nearby, Vera shielding a younger witch behind her, Seraphine whispering a protective charm under her breath, their faces etched with worry.

“She’s hysterical,” Mom says softly, stroking my hair, though her hand pauses, a flicker of guilt in her eyes before she resumes her soothing. “We need to get her away from this place.”

“I’m not hysterical!” Magic pulses through me, wild and unchecked after a year of suppression, as if it rebels with every heartbeat against the chains that once held it. The nearest car’s windshield spiderwebs under the weight of my turmoil. “Torin sacrificed everything. How can you stand here while he faces death?”

They pull me toward the vehicles, exchanging concerned glances over my head, their hands gentle but firm, voices murmuring platitudes.

“It’s the trauma talking,” Gran tells the others. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying!” I twist in their grip, searching for anyone who might listen. “Please – you have to help him!”

Dad’s fingers dig into my arm as he drags me toward our car, its door etched with faint protective runes that hum softly in the night. His jaw is set in that stubborn way I remember from childhood. “That bloodsucker had you for a year,” he says, voice trembling with rage. “A year of not knowing if you were alive or dead. I’ve seen what vampires do—I lost your uncle to one. I won’t lose you too.”

“Dad, please—”

“Those creatures are incapable of compassion or mercy. Whatever lies this Torin told you, it was all manipulation. Predators, Althea. Nothing more.”

Tears burn my eyes as I realize there’s no reaching him, not now, when fear and hatred have hardened his heart. “He kept me alive,” I insist, my voice breaking. *Did he really do it for me, or was there something else?* The fleeting doubt stabs at me, but I push it aside. “When the others wanted to drain me dry, he stood between us. Everything you think you know is wrong!”

Mom rubs my back, her touch restraining. “We’ll get you home, get you help. Everything will be alright now.”

*Why does she keep saying that?*

A wave of desperate magic surges again, and Dad stumbles back, grip loosening. “Listen to me!” The words tear from my throat. “Torin is in trouble because he chose me over his maker! We can’t abandon him!”

But they’re already guiding me away, their dismissive concern drowning out my pleas. The murmur of the crowd grows distant, the gravel scraping underfoot as they lead me to the car. The joy of seeing my family—a moment I’ve dreamed of for a year—crumbles beneath their refusal to hear me.

“She’s unstable,” someone whispers nearby.

“Stop saying that!” My shout echoes, raw and hoarse. “I’m telling the truth!”

A gentle ripple of water-touched magic washes over us. Marina Tidecaller parts the crowd, who step back with hushed reverence, her sea-green hair flowing in the night breeze, her healer’s braid adorned with seashells, a mark of her lineage. Her deep blue eyes fix on me with calm assessment.

“Let me see her,” Marina says softly. The others relax visibly as she approaches.

“Marina, please.” I grasp her hands, my own trembling. “You have to listen. Torin saved my life. He’s dying out there because he helped me escape.”

She cups my face, her magic cool and soothing as it flows over me. “I hear your pain, Althea, but your mind needs rest before we decide.” Her tone is gentle, yet it carries the same dismissal.

“No!” I jerk away from her touch. “Not you, too! Why won’t any of you listen?”

“Althea,” she continues, voice unwavering, “let me help calm you. You’ve been through so much—”

“My mind doesn’t need calming!” Magic crackles around me, frustration boiling over. “Torin needs help, and you’re all just standing here!”

*Dammit!* I have to get control over this.

My hands shake as I make one final attempt. “Listen to my words. Feel my magic. You all know me—you know I’m telling the truth. Torin chose to defy his maker for me. That bond is killing him right now while we argue! How can we call ourselves protectors of life if we let him die for saving one of our own?”

For a moment, doubt flickers across Marina’s face. But then her expression smooths, and she reaches for me again. “Of course, dear one. You’ve been so brave.”

Something in her tone makes me step back. The cool brush of her water magic shifts, more focused, purposeful. My eyes widen as I recognize the sedative pattern she’s weaving.

“No! Marina, don’t—”

But it’s too late. Her magic wraps around me like a tide, soothing yet inexorable. My limbs betray me, sinking under her current despite my thrashing will. The world blurs at the edges, the cold metal of the car door under my hand slipping away, the distant hum of engines fading.

“Torin,” I try to say, but my tongue is thick, clumsy. The night sky wheels overhead as they lift me, car doors slamming somewhere far off. I fight to hold on, desperate to make them understand. *I see him again, standing between me and his maker, blood dripping from his fangs as he whispered, ‘Run.’ I can’t fail him now.*

Then something else pierces through—not Marina’s magic, but a foreign yet achingly familiar presence. Torin’s face fills my mind, the scar above his left eye vivid, the one he got shielding me from a hunter’s blade. A flash of pain that isn’t mine sears through me, the taste of blood I haven’t spilled on my tongue. A whisper echoes in my head:

*Althea…*

It’s him! I know it’s him! *Was that really his voice, or am I losing myself too?*

Marina’s spell pulls me under completely, gentle yet relentless as the tide, and darkness claims me.