SAGE
Everything is working.
The lie left my mind more than it left my mouth. Even through the mate bond, it felt thin—a statement that could have crumbled if Adam had pushed too hard, if he had sensed the truth beneath it.
Because nothing was working.
Not my body. Not my strength. Not time. Not fate.
What was working was my death.
It was unfolding slowly, methodically, like a ritual the universe was determined to complete.
I scoffed at myself, or at least I tried to. The sound never made it past my throat; it dissolved before it could become breath. My chest barely rose. My lungs felt like they were breathing through water.
I could not feel myself.
Not my arms. Not my legs. Not even the weight of my own body against the cold floor. Everything existed at a distance, muted and fading, as though I was already halfway into the realm of spirits.
My eyelids drooped despite the fact that I had woken only minutes before. Staying conscious felt like trying to hold onto smoke. The moment I loosened my grip, darkness crept in again, merciless.
Four days. That’s how long I have been here.
Four days in this evil space. This cage carved from shadow and rot. Four days with a tainted stake embedded deep inside me, poisoning my blood, suppressing my power, and weakening every ancient thread in my being.
Two days longer than I had thought I would survive.
I let out a breath—ragged, trembling—and whispered a thank-you to the goddess, even though my faith felt threadbare. Then I asked for help. Not prideful anymore.
Anything at all. Anything. I needed to get out of there.
The meeting... it was probably already happening. The queen wouldn’t wait. She never did.
I needed to stop it.
I needed to stop the coordinated attack she was planning. I needed to save the people of the community—the same people who could soon be used like weapons, like sacrifices, like tools.
The same way I had been used.
I needed to destroy the vampires. Wipe them from the surface of the earth before they could finish what they had started.
How had I ever even worked with them?
How had I convinced myself it was necessary?
What had possessed me?
Desperation, perhaps. Fear. Or the naïve belief that I could control monsters if I stood close enough to them.
I coughed suddenly, violently, the movement tearing through my ribs. And instead of spit, blood spilled from my mouth—thick, dark, tasting of rust and decay.
I swallowed past the burn in my throat.
"Goddess," I whispered again, my voice barely more than breath. "Help me. One more chance. I plead."
One more chance to make it right. One more chance to correct the mistake that had started all of this.
One more chance to protect the boy who had stayed with Makeh—the anomaly, the child caught in the middle of destinies that were never his burden.
I needed to set things right.
I paused as the air in the room shifted. Footsteps. The door began to open.
My heart jerked painfully in my chest, instinct flaring even through weakness. For a moment, terror overtook exhaustion. I imagined the queen stepping through—impatient with my refusal to die, deciding to finish the job herself.
I braced for cruelty. For mockery. For the final blow. But it wasn’t her.
It was Freda.
My teacher stepped into the room, her presence cool and still, like a blade sheathed in calm. She looked exactly as she always did—expression blank, gaze unreadable, power coiled tightly beneath her skin.
I studied her through narrowed, wary eyes, my body too weak to shift away.
We stared at each other for a moment.
Then I bit out, rough and bitter, "Did you come to enjoy the view? Or to make sure I’m suffering enough?"
The words hurt to speak, but I forced them out anyway.
Freda’s lips curved into a small smile.
"I’m glad you haven’t lost your spirit," she said lightly.
She stepped closer, kneeling before me, and reached for the stake embedded in my body. Her fingers hovered over it, before pausing.
She tilted her head slightly.
Hope flared inside me so sharply it almost hurt.
"Why?" I rasped, fear and urgency tangling in my chest. "What’s the problem?"
Please don’t change your mind. Please don’t walk away.
Makeh’s words echoed in my memory. Help is coming.
Was Freda the help?
Freda straightened a little. "If I remove it here," she explained calmly, "you might bleed out under the hostile atmosphere of this black magic. Your other can’t cooperate properly in this environment. Your body won’t stabilize."
Her logic settled over me.
I nodded weakly. "I understand."
Then, softer, "Thank you."
Her expression softened.
"I’m sorry it took this long," she said quietly. "But how could I let you die, Sage? You’re the daughter I never had."
The words cracked something open inside me. Tears welled before I could stop them.
My body was filthy. Blood-stained. Bruised. Broken. But Freda didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward and hugged me carefully, firm and warm, grounding me in reality when I felt close to drifting away again.
I cried into her shoulder, silent, shaking. Grief. Relief. Exhaustion. Gratitude. It all spilled out.
When she pulled back, she gripped my arms and helped me rise. My legs barely cooperated, trembling beneath me like newborn limbs. I forced myself upright anyway, determined not to make this harder for her than it already was.
She steadied me.
Together, slowly, we moved toward the exit.
Every step felt like a battle. But with each one, hope grew stubbornly.
When the chamber walls finally slid open, I almost sobbed with relief as air that wasn’t tainted filtered through my nostrils.
And beyond the threshold lay the queen’s immaculate room, untouched by the rot that had nearly killed me. The contrast was almost painful.
I stepped out of the darkness, out of the space that had tried to claim my life, and inhaled deeply.
Real air. Fresh air. Free air. For a moment, I just stood there, breathing, letting the realization sink in.
I was still alive. And I was not done. Not yet.