Eternal Night

(III) Chapter 17: The Last & the First

Lyra watched in horror as her beloved friend and maker slumped forward before collapsing on the ground, unconscious. She slammed her fists against that invisible wall as if it would somehow give way, but with the impact, the redhead was suddenly thrown back by an unseen power, her body soaring across the room until it hit the neighboring wall and then tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Jacob shouted her name, the abrupt halt of his recitation seeming to trigger something as the floor began to tremble and then glow beneath the pool of Francesca's blood. Jake removed his hands from the ground and scrambled back as a great energy filled the room on a wave, the sigil in the floor glowing red, then violet, and finally white. Light flooded through, almost as bright as the sun at its zenith and he shielded his eyes.

Lyra crawled over to Jacob, the pair of them soon huddled together as they watched the circle encompassing Francesca burn like white fire. Somewhere in the center of that brilliant beacon, her body had taken to floating in the air a good foot or two off the ground, but the woman herself remained limp and entirely unconscious.

"What's happening?" Lyra asked the man at her side.

Jake, unable to tear his eyes away, merely shook his head in disbelief.

"I have no idea."

----

Tempest struggled to keep her steps small as her body – purely against her own will – carried her down the hall to the foot of the stairs overlooking the foyer. Tears streamed down her cheeks, the back of her left shoulder burning as if Marcus had pressed the branding iron of the hex to her flesh once more. She wanted to scream out her torment, but instead bit down hard on her tongue, hoping against hope that when she turned the corner, maybe – just maybe – Dracula would be gone.

But he wasn't. He was still in the foyer, his back mercifully turned toward her.

Tempest continued forward, noticing Niklaus on the other side of the hall across from her, looking on in horror. He was waving his arms frantically, as if to tell her to stop, to go back, but she couldn't. The summoning of her sire and king spurned her on regardless of how much her mind screamed at her body to stop.

She felt a presence somewhere behind her and she turned her head to see Jack and Louise down another hall. Louise had gone out from her hiding place to help, to stop Tempest from revealing herself, but Jack held her now, the pair silently weeping.

That burning in her skin where the invisible brand resided intensified and without even meaning to, Tempest let out a small whimper.

It was enough.

She watched in a mix of resignation and terror as Dracula turned around slowly, lifting his gaze up to where she stood. Their eyes met and that burning in her flesh reached its peak before it stopped abruptly and then it was gone.

Tempest stood there for nearly ten whole seconds in disbelief.

She wasn't dead.

She wasn't dead!

Vladislaus Drăculea – her father, her sire, her king – was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at her, seeing her, and she was still alive.

Her face crumpled.

A small, broken noise cracked from her, and with a sob of relief she fell to her knees and wept.

Dracula's throat bobbed, expression splintered in equal parts grief and joy as he bounded up the stairs. Tempest had covered her face with her hands and with great care, he gently pulled them away, wanting to look at her, needing to know that this was real, that she was real.