Alchemy of Blood
Olga Shakirovna Isyanova

Cover designer Nikolay Gorelsky

Editor Olga Isyanova

Proofreader Olga Isyanova

Translator Olga Isyanova

© Olga Shakirovna Isyanova, 2025

© Nikolay Gorelsky, cover design, 2025

© Olga Isyanova, translation, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0064-5575-7

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Prologue

Along with the blood, drop by drop, life flowed away. The fingers clutching the wound on the neck no longer felt warm. The bronze skin was fading, losing its color. There was no fear, no pain. Only a cool darkness, wave after wave, enveloped the heart until it stopped. Her last vivid memory was of her daughter’s eyes, cold and clear as moonlight. The dark waters of the river gently pushed Merit to the surface. All her wishes were gone, leaving only a fragile hope – the hope that her plea was answered and he would come.

Out of the thick darkness, a deep, guttural voice said, “Hello, Merit.”

The girl let out a small sigh of relief. She sensed his presence long before two glowing red eyes poked out of the darkness.

“Hello, my lord. You did come,” Merit whispered.

“You called, and I came. What do you want?”

“You know all about it, my lord,” Merit said, looking into his glowing eyes. “My daughter. She was safe now, but sooner or later he would find her,” her voice was pleading. “One day, when she comes before you, all I ask is that you protect her.”

“And in return?” It was a question of icy indifference.

Without hesitation, Merit fearlessly raised her large dark eyes and answered, “I will serve you. Forever.”

The otherworldly, inhuman gaze lit up with a satisfied spark.

“So be it.”

Chapter 1

When you live for more than two millennia, time doesn’t matter. It flows slowly, like a river, washing the epochs, and you just watch it flow, as if from the top of a mountain. So Selene sat on the edge of her desk in the ancient library, watching her new student with unruffled composure.

The new girl, young and eager, was trying to move a massive bronze goblet with the enthusiasm of youth. Her face was impatient, and there was a stubborn wrinkle between her brows.

Selene, watching her struggle, smiled. She understood this feeling perfectly – the eagerness, the desire to learn everything at once, without wasting time on long and boring exercises.

“You know, Chacey,” she said slowly, taking a drag on her cigarette. “If you stare at something like that, it’s bound to look back at you sooner or later.”

Without taking her eyes off the goblet, Chacey snorted.

“We’ve been circling this piece of metal for two hours now, and it’s no use!”

Selene couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The eternal problem of neophytes is lack of patience and discipline. She’s been through it, too.

“Good results are the fruit of long and hard work,” Selene said calmly, stubbing out her cigarette and putting the silver holder in the inner pocket of her black jacket dress. “But I know it all sounds crazy to you right now. You’re just a child.”

“A child?” Chacey outraged. “Actually, you’re not much older than me!”

Selene just grinned, “Appearances are deceptive, it’s time to understand this already. Be patient.”

“God, how boring!” Chacey whined. “You’d think I wasn’t trying!” She pouted childishly.

Selene crossed her legs.

“You’re thinking about the wrong things,” she said, looking at her with understanding.

Chacey asked dejectedly, “And about which ones?”

“Being a member of the Supreme Clan won’t solve your problems. Until you learn to defend yourself outside these walls, you are nothing. Find the best motivation,” Selene said sternly.

Chacey thought about it and said, “I have motivation. Maria says that I am very lucky to get into the Supreme Clan. It’s an honor,” she smiled foolishly, ignoring Selene’s words.

Selene grimaced at the mention of Maria. In her long life, she had rarely seen such cruel and vile creatures. However, Selene admitted that there was some truth in her words. Membership in the Supreme Clan offered many advantages, but not everyone was accepted. There is no telling what Chacy’s fate might have been if the guards hadn’t discovered her two months ago, feral and thirsty, and brought her to court.

“Don’t forget that I’m your mentor, not Maria,” Selene reminded her sternly. “Besides, you haven’t been accepted into the clan yet.”

The clan took the lost ones like Chacy under their wing, helping them get back on their feet. The most gifted were accepted into their ranks. Selene was assigned to mentor Chacy and several other neophytes. She was engaged in training them and developing their abilities.

“How were you trained?” the girl suddenly asked.

Selene’s gaze darkened and went off into the distance, as it always did when remembering the past.

But she quickly regained her composure and said grimly, “My mentor wasn’t so forgiving.”

Chacey turned away and pretended to stare at the ancient leather-bound books that filled the huge dark wood shelves to the ceiling. Selene sighed and pushed her long black hair off her shoulder as she slid off the table and walked over to the girl. She was staring intently at a rack of various relics and artefacts. Selene noticed that Chacey’s gaze lingered on the obsidian statue of an ancient Egyptian deity. Its smooth black surface seemed to absorb the sunlight, and its ruby eyes, on the contrary, burned brightly with a blood-red fire. The student’s blue eyes shifted from the statue to the silver medallion that rested on Selene’s neck.

“Just like yours,” Chacey said, studying the beast’s elongated face with its long ears that looked like they’d been chopped off at the end. “Is it something Egyptian?”

Selene touched the locket, instinctively trying to protect it. The metal pulsed slightly under her fingers, like a small heart. With a barely perceptible effort, Chacey turned her attention from the god’s ruby eyes to the silvery ones of her mentor.

“Yes,” Selene said. “This is Set, the god of death, storms, and the barren desert. Our God.”

“What do you mean?” the girl asked, surprised. “Do vampires have a god?”

Selene smiled a little. She liked it when the students showed interest in history, and now she was glad of the opportunity for a little distraction.

“Long ago, when the gods lived among humans, the god Seth fought for power with his nephew Horus,” she began. “They fought for days and nights, but they were evenly matched, and neither of them could gain the upper hand. Then the sun – god Ra, the lord of the gods, tired of this enmity, judged between them and gave the crown to Horus.”

Chacey was intrigued. She knew something about the history of vampires, but she’d never heard that they had a god before.

“What’s next?” the girl asked.

“An enraged Seth, unwilling to accept this turn of events, decided to rebel against Ra and his allies,” Selene continued. “Seth has mobilized his loyal mortals, lavishing each of them with his divine blood. This elixir gave the followers of Seth superhuman abilities, turning them into ruthless and unstoppable warriors who possessed lightning-fast agility, remarkable strength and fierce rage inherent in Seth himself. But despite their newfound power, the rebel forces suffered a crushing defeat. Ra and Horus joined forces to defeat Seth and his henchmen. As a severe punishment, Seth was imprisoned in the dark depths of the Duat, the underworld, without the possibility of having offspring. And his loyal warriors, deprived of their master, are doomed to wander the earthworld in the dark of night, reaping the fruits of their treachery. However, some of Seth’s followers found a way to circumvent the gods’ ban.”

Chacey, startled by her mentor’s story, was silent for a long time, digesting what she had just heard. Finally, she asked hesitantly, “And what became of Seth’s warriors after he was imprisoned?”

Selene, lost in thought, replied, “Free from the bonds of their master, they have spread out across the world, mixing their blood with that of mortals and creating new kindred. And so, from generation to generation, we continue to exist, forever hiding our eyes from the light of the sun.”

Chacey raised a skeptical eyebrow and said, “But it sounds like a legend, a fiction. Fairy tales for scaring children.”

“Even the most terrifying fairy tales have some truth in them. And this story is no exception.”

The distant sound of footsteps echoed through the dim hall from behind the closed door, making Selene and her student alert. The sweet, salty smell of human blood hung in the air, enticing and exciting the vampire’s senses. The cheerful voices of the staff coming from the corridor only served to reinforce the contrast between the carefree lives of humans and the dark existence of vampires.

Selene glanced at Chacey and was alarmed to see an inky network of veins spreading around her eyes, the whites turning cloudy, and her upper canines elongating. Hunger gnawed at the young vampire, ready to break loose.

“It’s starting again,” Selene thought, rolling her eyes. She snapped her fingers in front of Chacey’s face, forcing her to focus, and cupped her chin, gently turning her face to face her.

“Keep your breath steady and focus on me,” Selene whispered, looking into her student’s hungry blue eyes.

As the footsteps receded, Chacey gradually calmed down. Her breathing slowed, and the inky veil in her eyes began to clear.

“Well done,” Selene said, patting her on the shoulder.

Chacey grimaced as if at an unpleasant memory.

“But I don’t understand why all these rules apply,” she sounded annoyed. “I want to see the world outside the palace! How long can I stay locked up?”

Selene has already heard similar complaints from new converts. Young vampires with a burning thirst for life often did not understand why they should obey the strict rules of existence in a human society.

“These rules aren’t just a whim,” Selene explained patiently. “They are the key to the security and preservation of our world. The sooner you realize this, the better it will be for you. As for your desire to leave the palace… Go ahead. But remember: the slightest mistake and your head will roll off your shoulders in the blink of an eye.”

“What should I be afraid of?” Chacey snorted, tossing her shock of dark brown hair. “Mortals are just useless idiots,” there was a hint of contempt in her voice.

Anger flared in Selene like a hot flame. How quickly this young convert had forgotten her human origins. But what was even more surprising was that Chacey had absolutely no memory of her past. Sometimes this happens to some converts: fate seems to take pity on them, erasing the tragic events from their memory. Sometimes oblivion is really better.

“And what use are you?” Selene raised a dark brow, her silver eyes glinting dangerously from under thick lashes. “So far, you’re not of any value to the clan. Besides, you were a mortal yourself not so long ago, weren’t you?”

“That was in a previous life,” Chacey said.

“Is that so?” Selene said, turning her back on the neophyte and walking slowly toward the tall marble fireplace. “Remember when I said you needed motivation?”

“Yes,” Chacey said.

Selene went to the mantelpiece and picked up a fae dagger with a blade made of gold threads, similar to the pattern on a dragonfly’s wings. It gave off a soft, melodious chime.

“You asked me how I was trained,” Selene continued, turning the dagger thoughtfully in her fingers, examining it. “The most important lesson I’ve learned…”

With a sharp turn, Selene threw the dagger at her student with lightning speed. Instantly, Chacey raised her hands. The blade froze in midair just inches from her face. She stared at her mentor in a daze: with her close-cropped, disheveled hair and petite build, she looked like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.

“It’s fear,” Selene hissed, her face as pale as porcelain and icy calm.

Chacey dropped her hands abruptly, and the blade clattered to the marble floor. A look of horror crossed her face, and she hurried out of the library, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.

Chapter 2

After the student left, Selene froze in place, immersed in a mixed stream of emotions. Regret gnawed at her soul: if the girl had failed, her life would have ended because of her own lack of restraint. But some inner voice assured Selene otherwise. As it turned out, fear is the best incentive.

Selene picked up a delicate golden blade from the floor. Its sharpened blade grinned like a beast that has lost its prey.

“Not today, mate,” she said to the blade, and it gave a high, almost melodious chime in response.

Such enchanted artifacts, especially those created by fae masters, were intelligent and incomparably rare. The secret of making them has long been lost.

Selene returned the blade to its place and unconsciously turned her gaze to the large mirror over the fireplace. In his reflection, her father’s piercing silver eyes stared back at her, cold and grim. The resemblance disgusted her, reminding her of a man she didn’t want to know. Someone once told her that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother, and Selene would like to see her image in her own reflection. Unfortunately, it was impossible to remember someone she had never met.

Selene’s dark stream of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by the sharp beep of her smartphone, breaking the silence of the library. After reading the incoming message, a warm smile lit up her face.

***

Selene enjoyed the fresh air as she walked through the cobblestone streets of Venice. She savored the scents of salt water wafting from the canals, fresh coffee from cozy cafes, and the damp stones of ancient buildings. People hurried past on their way, couples strolled hand in hand, and tourists relentlessly took photos and videos, passing on gondolas or looking at the windows of souvenir shops.

Selene loved such moments when there was an opportunity to simply disappear into the city bustle and feel like a part of the life that did not belong to her. Adjusting her sunglasses, she pushed past a group of students who were busily photographing an architectural detail.

Selene’s gaze slid up, and she saw what had caught their attention: the Egyptian ankh cross adorning the marble facade of one of the buildings. The top of the cross was crowned with a loop, and in the center was an all-seeing eye. This symbol, found on the facades and pediments of palaces, cathedrals and other architectural structures not only in Venice, but also around the world, kept a secret known only to a select few. Those who had knowledge of its true meaning wore it as a sign of belonging to the Supreme Clan. Selene, wearing a miniature ankh brooch, was one of them.

After looking into a charming coffee corner and a flower stand, Selene headed for a small palazzo. The wrought-iron gate creaked, letting her into a courtyard that smelled of exotic plants. A young man in a dark green shirt and jeans and a girl in a light summer dress were walking towards her. They were cooing, and the girl was smiling sweetly, clutching a bottle of floral perfume to her chest. The young man stopped, plucked a snow-white lily from the flowerbed and gallantly handed it to his companion. She blushed and accepted the flower gratefully. With an embarrassed glance over her shoulder, she disappeared through the gate.

The young man watched her go with his light green eyes, then turned to Selene. She had been watching the idyll with irony all this time.

“Aren’t you too old for this flower?” she joked.

“How dare you?” the guy pretended to be indignant. “I’m pretty well preserved for my age.”

Selene smiled and handed him a cup of aromatic herbal latte. He took a grateful sip. Walking to a round table in the center of the courtyard, Selene added another to the rich bouquet of dark red roses that adorned the base of a small stone statue of the Three-faced Hecate.

“For Senora Sartori,” she said. “She’s at home?”

“She’s on the roof sunbathing.”

The young man leaned over to the lily bed and gently touched the broken stem. Instantly, it bloomed as if nothing had happened. Senora Sartori’s voice came from above.

“Selene, is that you, dear?”

A woman of respectable age was leaning on the parapet, looking at them. Tall and graceful, with her snow-white hair parted in the middle and pulled back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, she looked like she stepped out of the pages of a historical novel. Her large earrings, sparkling with diamonds in the setting sun, accentuated her piercing blue eyes.

“Buona sera¹, senora,” Selene greeted her in Italian.

“Ciao², my dear!” the woman smiled warmly. “It’s been a long time since you stopped by!”

“Business, business…” Selene replied. “How is the novel progressing?”

Allegra Sartori, world-famous for her historical prose, was one of the most elegant and charming women Selene had ever met. Her true age was a mystery, but it was rumored that she had been the mistress of one of the Doges of Venice, and had even served on the powerful Council of Ten³ before the Supreme Clan had settled in the city.

“Oh, wonderful, my dear. Your historical advice is priceless!” the writer replied enthusiastically.

“Happy to help! I look forward to receiving a signed copy!” Selene said.

“By all means, my dear! But now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to miss my evening tan – it’s the best for my skin!”

With that, the senora disappeared from view, holding the white jacket draped over her shoulders with her fingers studded with glittering rings.

“If every time she says that phrase, the sea increases by an inch, Venice would have sunk long ago,” Frey chuckled.

“You’re lucky you witches don’t have such sensitive ears, otherwise you’d have to find a new place to live.”

Laughing, Frey put an arm around Selene’s shoulders and they settled down on the bench. They just sat in silence for a long time. Frey was enjoying his latte, and Selene was smoking a cigarette. Scents of flowers wafted in the air, and water gurgled merrily in the stone fountain. Everything breathed comfort and tranquility. Selene thought that she could live a thousand lifetimes in such an atmosphere.

“How was your class with the new girl?” Frey broke the silence.

“Not bad, except for her stampede at the end,” Selene shrugged.

The sun had set long enough, turning the red stucco walls of the palazzo a deep scarlett, to allow her to finally remove her sunglasses. Frey just grinned good-naturedly and shook his head. Then a lynx appeared out of nowhere and rubbed against her leg. Selene leaned over and scratched her behind the ear.

“Hello, Sylva,” she greeted the cat.

She squeezed her light green eyes, which were exactly the same color as her owner’s, in satisfaction. With a loud purr, she hopped onto the bench and snuggled into Frey’s lap. He absently stroked his familiar between the tufted ears. With each movement of his hand, when the light of the setting sun fell on it, the copper plate on the wide leather bracelet with the Wheel of Hecate engraved on it flashed – a circular maze with a six-pointed emerald star in the center, the symbol of the goddess-the ancestor of all witches.

Frey said that on his sixteenth Imbolc⁴, when all witches and mages are traditionally initiated into the coven, the goddess herself personally appeared to him in a dream and gave him this bracelet along with a familiar lynx. Familiars were considered messengers of the goddess, called to protect witches.

“My mother has informed me that our alchemist Andros is missing,” Frey said.

“Unfortunately, this is not news, he disappeared about a month ago,” Selene replied.

“However, the news doesn’t end there. The Hyperborean Library was robbed,” Frey added grimly, his words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.

Selene’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But this is interesting. What exactly is missing?” she asked, her mind already trying to connect the two incidents together.

“It is not known for sure, but they say that there are some blueprints.”

Selene wondered if these events could be somehow connected. She was even more concerned about what it might lead to. The disappearance of a talented alchemist and the robbery of an ancient repository of mystical knowledge are extremely disturbing events.

As if to confirm Selene’s thoughts, Frey continued, “I’m afraid it’s very serious. The High Priestess is very determined and plans to raise this issue at the Great Sabbath.”

“So she’ll blame everyone,” she said, knowing that the High Priestess Devona had never been a gentle person, especially considering Andros was a member of the Grand Coven. “This can cause a lot of conflicts.”

In the past, wars and skirmishes between supernatural races brought only pain and chaos. Selene understood that the fragile peace and balance achieved at such a high price could be destroyed with a single ill-considered word. And there were always those who profited from the spilled blood, skillfully playing on other people’s passions and ambitions.

“You think this is all about Victor?” Frey asked cautiously, as if reading Selene’s mind.

He looked at her anxiously, waiting for her answer. The mere mention of that name caused Selene to feel a bitter sense of despair. For a moment, there was a glint of fear in her eyes.

“I pray to the gods that it wasn’t,” Selene whispered, but her gut told her that this time her prayers would go unanswered.

Frey put his arm around Selene’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She snuggled her head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of freshly plowed earth and the coolness of the forest that came from him.

“No matter what happens, we’ll always find a way out,” Frey’s voice was soothing, like a lullaby, in time with Sylva’s soft purr. “Who knows, maybe one day we’ll settle down in a nice and cozy place where you’ll have the library you’ve been dreaming of for so long, and I’ll open my own herb shop to sell my potions. I can’t stay with Senora Sartori for the rest of the century,” Frey joked, and Sylva mewed merrily back.

Selene’s heart sank painfully at his words. All these simple things, accessible to many, seemed to her a beautiful and unattainable dream. She lifted her head from Frey’s shoulder and caught his eye.

“You’ve always been the most optimistic of the two of us,” Selene said, tucking his lock of dark wheat-colored hair behind his ear.

“Someone has to be,” Frey said, smiling. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be your best friend.”

And for the second time that day, the smartphone signal disturbed Selene’s peace. But this time, after reading the message, the smile disappeared from her face.

“Is something wrong?” Frey asked warily.

“The Prince orders me to come,” the girl replied grimly. “Urgently.”

Chapter 3. Somewhere in a British forest, 2nd Century B.C.

On a pitch-black autumn night, when the only sounds were the screams of night creatures and the crackle of fallen leaves underfoot, Selene glided silently along a forest path. The full moon cast a dim light, illuminating her path. The thick fog obscured her presence like a faithful companion, but she pulled the hood of her dark cloak even deeper.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Selene had not given up hope of encountering a lost traveler, or at least finding a human settlement where she could satisfy her hunger. The thought of fresh blood made her mouth water and her throat tighten. She fought down her thirst, concentrating on the sounds coming from the depths of the forest. There seemed to be no end to this gloomy realm. Almost in desperation, Selene caught the sound of voices.

She froze in place and listened. Even though the fog absorbed most of the sounds, Selene realized that the source of them was in the distance, much further away than the average human could hear. And with the same inhuman speed, she rushed to the call of these voices. Her dark form rushed through the fog, causing the nocturnal inhabitants of the forest to fall silent and hide.

She stopped not far from where the sounds were coming from and took a deep breath, sniffing the air. It was imbued with magical energy and vibrated slightly. Selene immediately felt the tart taste of magic. Another breath confirmed her guess: the magical effect was coming from people nearby. Selene counted five or six of them by their fervent heart beats, which blended with their voices. They chanted a chant in unison, creating an enchanting rhythm. But one voice was very different from the others. Someone was screaming in pain.

Selene wanted to leave immediately, but a second scream froze her in place. There was so much pain in that cry that it made her heart ache, and old memories were reawakened. After a moment’s hesitation, curiosity overcame caution. The girl hid among the trees and thorny bushes.

Ahead, in a small circular clearing, a mighty oak tree was silhouetted, its crown stretching out over the ground. The clearing was bathed in the soft light of a full moon and torches held by five figures clad in dark green cloaks. Their hoods were pulled down to hide their faces, revealing only their pupil-less eyes, which flickered eerily like fireflies in the night. At the foot of a majestic oak tree, a young man writhed and screamed, chained to its mighty trunk. With each sound of his voice, he seemed to grow into the tree, becoming one with it, the bark trying to swallow him up, crawling on his skin. A spotted lynx thumped at his feet, whining and meowing piteously.

The scene that unfolded in front of Selene filled her with horror. Not knowing who these people were or what the unfortunate youth had done, she felt an overwhelming urge to help him. She herself had once found herself in a position where one naively cherished the hope of salvation.

Closing her eyes, Selene focused on the magic in the air. Its pulsation and fluctuation indicated who was the source of it. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the chant stopped, and with it the young man’s screams. There were confused exclamations coming to Selene’s ears, and under the hoods, puzzled glances shone at each other. They tried to renew the spell, but their attempts were unsuccessful. The angry voices grew louder. Taking advantage of their confusion, Selene rushed forward.

Running fast like lightning, Selene stunned the four men in the back of the head, instantly knocking them unconscious. Torches fell from their limp hands, plunging the clearing into darkness, which was only occasionally illuminated by flashes of flame.

The only remaining conscious person – a very young, inexperienced mage – froze in place, watching his fallen comrades with horror. After unsuccessfully trying to attack Selene with magic, he stepped back, tripped over the tree roots, and fell. The girl hovered over him, baring her sharp fangs threateningly and hissing.

He struggled to his feet and ran into the woods in a panic, stumbling and tangling in his long cloak. Finally, it was the prisoner’s turn, who had remained silent all this time. Selene picked up the nearly extinguished torch and approached him. Pushing back her hood, she met the prisoner’s gaze. His green eyes were startled and wary.

A menacing growl pierced the air. The spotted lynx arched its back and growled menacingly, ready to pounce on the stranger. But the iron collar held the cat. The young man stared intently at Selene, not knowing what to expect.

“Why did they treat you like this?” she asked in the local language.

Selene spoke many languages, her father had taken care of her education, and at least for this she could be grateful to him.

The prisoner seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he thought there was a chance to negotiate.

“For mercy,” he said simply.

“Well, someone kills for less,” Selene said.

She stuck the torch in the ground, twirled her wrists, and the sai daggers materialized in her hands, glinting silver. They glittered ominously in the light of the flames, and the hieroglyphs engraved on them looked black. The guy stiffened again at the sight of the weapon.

“Please don’t eat me,” he said nervously.

Selene, stretching her full lips in a slight smile, came closer and with a sharp movement cut the chains that held the young man. He almost fell, but managed to keep his balance. Straightening to full height, he dusted his brown leather trousers and a green woolen cloak pinned at the right shoulder with a copper brooch with three lunar phases on it.

Then he hurried over to the lynx, which was still bound by the collar. To Selene’s surprise, the young man practically mimicked her gesture, twirling his wrist with a wide leather bracelet on it. A wooden double-edged spear with copper tips appeared in his hand. With a flourish, he cut the chain, and the collar opened, freeing the unfortunate animal.

The lynx rubbed against its owner’s legs with a loud purr and sat down next to him, looking at Selene curiously.

“There you go, Sylva,” the mage cooed, then turned and looked back at the scene of his failed death. “There’s no worse punishment for a druid.”

Suddenly, a young woman landed on the ground like a hawk from the sky, sending up a swirl of dried leaves. Her lean, wiry figure was clad in green patterns that resembled bare branches, covering her bare skin from shoulders to wrists. A vertical scar ran across her left eye. Selene and her new acquaintance raised their weapons with alacrity. However, the druid who recognized the woman immediately lowered his spear. Selene, on the other hand, kept her daggers carefully ready. The stranger’s swamp-green eyes, devoid of pupils and flickering like will-o’-the-wisps, glittered menacingly across the clearing where her people lay unconscious.

As the witch made a threatening move toward Selene, she was stopped by her son, who exclaimed, “Mom, stop! She helped me!”

Selene knew that witches endowed with immortality could acquire not only a youthful appearance, but also a state of mature wisdom or venerable old age. This depended on which phase of their life cycle their age was fixed by their Triune Goddess. Still, she couldn’t help but be surprised to find a blood relationship between a mother and son who seemed to be about the same age. The witch studied Selene with an appraising gaze and, after making sure that there was no threat, calmed down. The green eyes dimmed, pupils appearing in them, floating out like the dark pool. Selene lowered the weapon, twirled her wrists again, and it disappeared. Approaching her son, the woman took his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead.

“Thank the Dark Mother, you’re safe!” she exclaimed, squeezing him in her arms. “I ran as fast as I could!”

“It’s all right, my savior arrived in time,” the druid said, gesturing at Selene.

“The gods sent you!” the woman turned to her. “Thank you, Daughter of the Desert.”

Selene couldn’t think of anything to say, just nodded at her in embarrassment.

“Son, you can’t stay here,” the witch said, her eyes filling with tears. “I managed to talk my sister into sparing your life, but you know Devona, she’s not easy. You have a geis⁵ placed on you – instead of dying, you will be banished, you will no longer be able to be part of our coven. And no other,” her voice broke, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

The young man looked confused and sad, but quickly regained his composure and forced a smile.

He wiped a tear from his mother’s cheek with his thumb.

“And why did you have to save that fae?” asked the sad mother.

“You know me, I couldn’t do anything else,” the guy smiled gently.

“You’ve always had a kind heart. Take care of him,” the woman said, and hugged her son tightly.

Selene, who became an unwitting witness to the family drama, became uncomfortable, and she decided to quietly leave. She was already deep in the forest and walking along the path when she heard the sound of quick footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw a young mage hurrying towards her. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

The druid caught up with her and stood with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His heart was pounding. His lynx appeared on a nearby tree branch.

“What else do you want?” Selene asked irritably.

“I still haven’t thanked you for saving me,” he said, panting.

“A simple ‘thank you’ is enough,” the girl replied, and turned to continue on her way. To her annoyance, however, he followed her.

“I’m Frey,” the mage said.

“Selene,” she said reluctantly.

She didn’t really want to reveal her name, and she’d already left enough traces here.

“Where are you going?” Frey asked curiously.

“What’s it to you?”

“You heard I’m an outcast now, so we’re in the same boat.”

Selene stopped, already beginning to regret saving his life.

“Look, if you’re going to come after me, you shouldn’t. I’m not the most reliable travel companion. I’m a wanderer, just like you,” she tried to dissuade him, but he was adamant.

“So much the better. I’ve always wanted to see the world,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re too optimistic for an outcast,” Selene said grimly.

She had heard from the Heka⁶ priests in her homeland that witches who left their coven for any reason were considered outcasts and despised by other witches. After all, when you go your own way and don’t look back at anyone, you become impossible to control.

“One door closes, another opens,” Frey said, smiling.

Selene rolled her eyes again and shook her head. They walked in silence for a while, until Selene realized that she didn’t know the way.

And then a thought occurred to her, “You really can help me, you know. Take me to the nearest settlement, or I’ll change my mind and eat you.”

Frey stared at her for a moment, then smiled.

“Just promise not to kill anyone.”

“I won’t promise anything about you,” Selene said, a slight smile on her lips.

“We’ll definitely get along,” the druid said, grinning broadly.

“I doubt it,” Selene muttered, realizing that for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t alone.

Chapter 4

When Selene returned to the palace, the sun had already set. She walked through corridors decorated with gold sconces, huge paintings, and other works of art. Her footsteps echoed off the marble floor. All the way there, she wondered why she had been summoned to the Prince’s presence so urgently. As she approached the tall double doors, she nodded to two guards in strict black suits, who let her inside.

Once in the large and luxurious hall, decorated with dark marble and wood, lit by many candles, Selene bowed her head respectfully as she greeted the man sitting on the dais in a high carved chair. His scarlet eyes strained over the lines of paper, and he didn’t seem to notice her at first. Candlelight glinted off his thick, jet-black curls, setting off his sharp features.

“You wanted to see me, my lord?” Selene broke the silence.

The man looked up from his paperwork and finally turned his attention to the girl.

“Selene, there you are. Fine,” he said with a tight smile, tucking the folded papers into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Prince Adrian ruled the vampire empire for more than a thousand and a half years, raising it from the ashes of disparate clans and uniting all vampires under his powerful hand. He established centralized power, created a code of laws and punishments that put an end to centuries of chaos and violence. His wise policy was followed by the leaders of other supernatural races, who recognized the wisdom and power of unified government. Selene always respected the Prince and supported his views, but there were also those who did not share her opinion.

“Our scouts have captured a suspected spy from the First Pack,” the Prince began without preamble. “He entered the city a few days ago and was collecting information.”

Selene frowned at the news. Why would the werewolves send a spy? She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye.

“What makes you so sure it’s a spy?” she asked after a moment’s thought. “Perhaps he came for another purpose?”

Adrian shook his head, “If that were the case, he would have come to court first, as he should,” he replied, pacing the room nervously, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, we made a peace treaty with the previous Elder Alpha, but who knows if the new one will follow it?”

His pale, usually unreadable face was tense and anxious, even in the dim candlelight. Selene understood the reason for his agitation: the Prince and the Elder Alpha had once been allies, if not friends. The unexpected death of the werewolf leader a few years ago shocked and saddened the entire supernatural world. Together, the two leaders reached an agreement that ensured a fragile peace between their peoples. But after the new Alpha ascended to the throne, there was turmoil among the werewolves. Many did not share the radical views of the new leader and deserted from the First Pack. Others, on the contrary, flocked to it, strengthening its ranks.

“Maria is currently interrogating the prisoner, but so far to no avail,” Adrian said with a wry smile. “Do it while there’s still something left of him. You know how much she gets carried away sometimes. As soon as you’re done, let me know immediately.”

Selene, trying to hide her annoyance, left with a bow.

***

Selene grew increasingly uneasy as the elevator sank into the depths of the dungeon. The oppressive atmosphere of the upcoming interrogation weighed heavily on her. She had hoped for a quick and painless testimony, avoiding a scene of bloodshed.

The smooth elevator doors swung open, looking out of place on the old, damp stone of the dungeon. Selene approached the massive metal door and entered the access code. The surveillance camera was like a cyclopean eye, watching her every move intently. The green light came on, and the door slid open with a crash.

Animal howls and desperate human screams reached Selene’s ears. She strode resolutely down the narrow stone corridors, her heels clicking loudly.

The detention cells were located opposite each other. As she neared the right camera, Selene’s sense of smell picked up the sharp smell of a wolf mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Finally, as she turned the corner, she saw Thomas and Greg, the Prince’s bodyguards, standing at the end of the corridor. Together with Maria and Selene, they formed the Prince’s Personal Guard – an elite group of clan members who performed particularly important tasks.

The bodyguards, dressed in severe black doublets, stood silently in front of the cell’s entrance. Their faces and clothing bore the marks of a recent battle. There were fresh wounds on their skin that were just beginning to heal. Noticing Selene’s approach, the vampires started up.

“Here comes the ‘good’ cop,” Greg said, smiling and narrowing his bright red eyes.

“You look amazing, boys, go freshen up,” Selene suggested, walking over to them.

“Yeah, we look pretty good. That big guy was a tough nut to crack,” Thomas said, tugging at his clothes as if that might help.

There was another roar outside the door. Selene glanced at the guardians with displeasure. Thomas averted his blue eyes, and Greg grinned into his beard.

“Come on, let the girl have some fun,” he said.

“Open it,” Selene ordered, nodding toward the door.

Greg punched in the access code, and Thomas opened the door, inviting her inside. The first thing Selene saw was a bold and bloodthirsty look in those huge scarlet eyes. Maria had a smile on her face that made her look like a creepy porcelain doll.

She was so tiny that she was almost as tall as the prisoner who was kneeling. The girl was standing behind him, running pale fingers through his snow-white hair.

The man was breathing heavily, head down. His white shirt was stained with blood. Wavy hair, just below his shoulders, was soaked with sweat and fell over his face. His hands were shackled in front of him.

An enchanted silver collar, attached to the floor with a thick chain, on which shone the bindrun of the god Tyr, who once bound the divine wolf Fenrir, prevented the werewolf from turning.

“That’s enough, Maria,” Selene said calmly. “I’ll handle it myself.”

“I can do just fine without you,” Maria chirped, and her smile widened, making her plump cheeks dimple.

“You can’t, or I wouldn’t be here,” Selene said coldly. “The Prince needs information, not a mess of wolf’s brain.”

Selene was annoyed that the Prince was indulging Maria’s sadistic tendencies, allowing her to use her gift to harm others. Maria could reach into people’s minds and read their past, causing unbearable pain. And the harder the victim resisted, the more suffering they experienced.

Maria stared at Selene for a few seconds, her short-cropped blond head cocked to one side. Then, she deliberately walked towards the exit. Greg and Thomas watched in silence from the doorway.

Selene walked over to the prisoner and squatted down in front of him. She gently lifted his head by the chin and looked up into his face.

As is often the case with immortals, it was not easy to determine his age at first glance. He could have been about forty or six hundred years old. His face, pleasant and noble, like streams of rain on glass, trickled blood from his eyes, nose and the corners of his mouth.

He was gnashing his teeth, his square jaw tense. The werewolf lifted his eyelids with an effort, and Selene’s silver gaze met the gold of his eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments, then his eyes closed again and his head fell limply on the broad chest.

Selene looked down at his cuffed hands and noticed a round gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand. It showed the Fenrir wolf leaping to swallow the sun. Without knowing why, she touched the ring, but then she pulled her hand away – it was so cold that it burned her fingers. She even thought she heard a low growl somewhere on the edge of consciousness.

As she straightened up and took another look at the captive, Selene realized that there would be no answers today.

She turned to Maria and said, not hiding her displeasure, “We’ll have to wait for him to recover. Because of you, Maria, we are wasting precious time. Good job!” and without waiting for an answer, she walked briskly away.

Chapter 5

The next morning, Selene returned to the prison cell. This time alone, without any outside observers. Leaning against the door, she calmly smoked a cigarette and looked at the prisoner. His large figure took up almost the entire space of the damp, cramped room. Broad-shouldered, tightly built, he breathed steadily, his head bowed limply. Selene assumed that he should have recovered during the night, and she was right.

The man exhaled slowly. He moved his stiff shoulders, and powerful muscles played under his white shirt. Then he lifted his head and blinked sleepily away. His gaze wandered around the cell until it landed on Selene.

“Good morning!” she said sweetly, smiling.

“I thought I was imagining you,” the man rasped in a low, deep voice that still had a sleepy edge to it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Amazing. Your doll did a good job,” the wolf replied and coughed.

Selene handed him a bottle of water, “We apologize for any inconvenience caused.”

The man unscrewed the top of the bottle as far as his shackled hands would allow, and took several gulps. Trickles trickled down his chin, partially washing away the dried blood. He emptied the bottle and tossed it aside.

“You’re here for some fun, too?” his voice was less hoarse now.

“It all depends on you. If you behave yourself, I won’t hurt you,” Selene took a drag on her cigarette. “I just need answers.”

The werewolf regarded her for a few seconds, his golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully. A slight smirk appeared on his lips, making the cleft in his chin stand out clearly.

“I am at your feet, fagr⁷,” he said, bowing his head in mock reverence.

“Fine, let’s start with a simple one,” Selene began the interrogation. “Your name?”

“Sol,” he said.

“You’re from the First Pack, right?”

The amusement in his eyes immediately faded, and he became serious.

“I’m a loner. I left the Pack a few years ago after…” he paused.

“After the previous Alpha died,” Selene finished for him.

Sol nodded, his white hair falling over his forehead as he stared at the floor. It was obvious that this topic was causing him pain.

“What were you doing here in Venice? Why didn’t you introduce yourself at court?” Selene asked.

“Surely you’ve heard that the alchemist is missing? His trail led me here.”

“Why would you want to look for him?” Selene frowned.

“Because Lucan is involved, and I want to know what he’s up to,” Sol said, his jaw tightening. “I have my own reasons for that.”

Lucan became the new Elder Alpha just a few years ago. During this time, he managed to become famous for his radical views. He opposed the principle of “the best power is invisible power” and wanted to rule openly, not hiding from mortals. He sought to enslave them. However, none of the leaders supported him, as did many of his fellow tribesmen. Alphas who did not agree with his rule were killed or exiled. Lucan surrounded himself with loyal followers, eliminating anyone who dared to cross him.

“What makes you think Lucan had anything to do with it? And why didn’t you tell us right away if your search led you to the city?” Selene asked, exhaling a stream of smoke.

“I was watching him and saw Andros brought to him. Then, the alchemist hurriedly went here. I didn’t go to see the Prince, because I wanted to make sure first that he had nothing to do with it.”

Selene was startled. To suspect the Prince is absolutely absurd. After all, Adrian had always maintained a policy of non-interference since the days of the Inquisition. He strictly forbade his subjects to reveal their true identity to people. So it seemed unlikely that he could support Lucan.

“So, are you convinced?” she asked, arching a dark brow.

“I didn’t have time,” the wolf quipped, shaking his chains. “But what I do know is that Lucan is in cahoots with Baron Victor – it was his men who brought Andros to Alpha.”

Victor. Again, the name sounded like a point-blank shot. Of course, if anyone is going to support Lucan, it will be him. He has long been looking for an opportunity to overthrow the Prince and take his place.

Selene tried not to show that she was worried, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Sol asked her, “What is it? Did the kitten run away to another owner?”

Selene understood why he called her “kitten”. The coat of arms of her former clan, Victor’s clan, was a panther.

She took the rest of her cigarette out of the holder and tossed it at wolf’s feet.

Stubbing out her cigarette with a black patent leather shoe, she said coldly before leaving, “Thank you for the interview, tesem⁸.”

Chapter 6

Selene’s mind was a mess as she rushed to tell the Prince the information she had received. She doubted Sol’s sincerity, but the sense of impending disaster grew stronger with each step. When she reached the heavy oak doors of the throne room, Selene found that there were no guards. This fact alarmed her. Taking a deep breath, she walked in, trying her best to keep her face expressionless.

In the hall, seated on a dais, was Prince Adrian. Next to him were Greg, Thomas, and Maria. All three of them, except Maria, looked crestfallen, the way those who are ready to report an unpleasant event usually look. Maria was biting her lip nervously. Obeying Adrian’s gesture, the two guards, whose absence Selene had noticed earlier, closed the doors behind her, cutting off her escape route.

She didn’t need to be a seer to tell that something was going wrong.

Keeping an outward calm, Selene asked, “Has something happened, my lord?”

Prince Adrian slowly raised his eyes to Selene, his gaze reflecting a serious and distant expression. He rested one hand on the carved arm of the throne and rubbed his chin thoughtfully with long white fingers.

“Tell me, what did you learn from our guest?” the Prince asked instead of answering.

Selene summarized everything she’d learned from Sol. Adrian didn’t seem surprised, even when Selene informed him that the werewolf suspected him of missing the alchemist. The Prince only nodded his head slightly, as if he already knew everything.

“Wolf thinks Victor is helping Lucan,” Selene said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Adrian looked at her carefully as she said that. Of the entire clan, he was the only one who knew of her true connection to Victor. For a few weary seconds, their eyes met, and Selene felt the weight of a difficult decision under Adrian’s gaze that he didn’t dare voice.

Finally, the Prince spoke, “It’s not in my nature to break my word, but I’m afraid circumstances force me to do so. Victor is demanding your extradition, and I can’t refuse him.”

That’s all. It’s done. The verdict was passed. It took a huge effort for Selene to keep her face calm. She was afraid that any movement or word could destroy her. So she just continued to stare at the Prince in silence.

“Believe me, this decision was very difficult for me,” he said. “Many years ago, you asked for my protection, and in return, you served the clan faithfully. You’ve always been loyal to me. But right now, I can’t change anything. I’m sorry, Selene. I hope you understand.”

Selene understood. Victor had been searching for centuries for a way to influence Adrian, and it seemed that he had finally found it. Whatever it was, Selene believed that if the Prince had had the chance to keep his word, he would have done it.

Adrian looked at her dejectedly, waiting for her to say something. But Selene only found the strength to bow her head respectfully, indicating that she accepted his decision. Greg and Thomas looked down at the floor, and Maria was grinning with glee.

There was an eerie silence in the room, broken only by the ominous clink of Greg’s handcuffs. He slid his hands behind Selene’s back, closing the heavy gold bracelets with the image of the falcon of Horus around her wrists. A chill ran through her body, and her muscles loosened. Thomas came over and joined Greg in taking Selene by the elbows as they headed out of the hall. Neither of them dared to meet her eyes. Maria trotted ahead impatiently.

When the guards opened the doors for them, Selene turned to the Prince over her shoulder and asked, “What will happen to the prisoner?”

He seemed to be prepared for any words, but this question clearly caught him off guard.

“Lucan declared him a traitor, and traitors are known to be executed.”

Selene said nothing and turned away. They led her out of the hall, and the doors slammed shut behind them.

***

Selene spent the entire time trying to collect her thoughts as they descended into the dungeon. Uneasy premonitions gripped her heart, and the magic of the handcuffs resisted fiercely, refusing to yield to her efforts. But the girl did not give up, knowing that there was no time to think. Outwardly, she was unperturbed, but inside, a quiet storm was brewing.

Their procession stopped in front of the cell door. On its metal surface was a winged sun disk – an ancient symbol of the sun god, designed to protect against evil. So the legend that vampires couldn’t enter a house uninvited was partly true. Selene felt that if she crossed the threshold, she would lose her freedom forever. If the Prince was willing to sacrifice her, Selene wasn’t.

The moment Maria opened the door, Selene mustered the last of her strength, forcing the magic of the handcuffs to retreat in front of her. The golden bracelets opened with a loud clang and fell to the stone floor. She felt a surge of strength and a slight tingling sensation all over her body.

Greg and Thomas were distracted by an unexpected sound. Selene ducked and summoned her daggers with a sharp flick of her wrists. In an instant, she severed the tendons under men’s knees, and their bodies collapsed to the floor at the same time. Taking advantage of the guardians’ weakness, Selene pushed them into the cell and locked the door. This would buy her a little time before someone showed up and freed them.

Meanwhile, Maria was already rushing to the exit, realizing that she could not compete with Selene, since she always trusted her gift more than her physical strength.

Selene decided not to waste time chasing Maria and not to try to stop her from raising the alarm. She knew that the security cameras had already recorded everything that had happened. Instead, she hurried to Sol’s cell.

As she flitted her slender fingers across the panel and punched in the access code, Selene prayed that security wouldn’t change it. To her relief, a beep sounded and the green light turned on. Abruptly, she flung open the door, burst into the cramped, dank cell, and without another word began to free Sol from his shackles.

“What’s all that noise? What are you doing?” he asked, frowning up at her.

“Saving us,” Selene said, using her silver dagger to cut through the wolf’s shackles, sending out a shower of sparks. “Help me out, and I’ll explain the rest when we’re safe. In the meantime, sit tight.”

She crouched down in front of Sol and placed her hands on the silver hoop that encircled his broad neck. Sol didn’t resist, watching her movements carefully, his golden eyes searching her face. Selene summoned her gift and channeled it into the power contained in the collar, just as she had done with the handcuffs before. This time the task was much easier: the restraining magic yielded almost effortlessly, and Tyr’s bindruna flashed with a dazzling silver light, then faded away, opening the collar. Sol breathed a sigh of relief and rose to his full height, stretching his arms and neck. It was much taller than Selene had expected, and she was struck by its power. She felt especially small next to him.

“That’s better, thank you, fagr,” the werewolf boomed, crunching his neck in satisfaction.

Selene smiled wryly, “Come on, we need to hurry.”

They hurried out of the dungeon, passing sliding doors that weren’t locked. Apparently, the guards were waiting for them at the top, not wanting to engage in battle in such a tight space.

As they waited for the elevator, Sol ventured, “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Selene,” she said.

“Selene,” Sol repeated with a wistful smile, as if tasting her name. “It suits you.”

Before she could answer, there was a slight clink and the gleaming elevator doors slid open. The cabin was empty, just as they’d expected. Selene and Sol went inside.

On the way upstairs, Selene secretly texted Frey, glad that her phone hadn’t been taken away. There was only one word in the message: “It’s time.”

Moments before the elevator reached the desired floor, Selene and Sol prepared for battle. Selene clutched the silver daggers in her hands, and Sol made a smooth gesture with his right hand with the ring. Immediately, a dazzling golden sword materialized in it, patterned runes adorning its blade and hilt.

However, when the elevator doors finally opened, there wasn’t a soul outside.

Chapter 7

The dark marble corridors were filled with tense silence. Selene’s sensitive ears picked up only the steady, powerful beat of Sol’s heart. They stepped carefully and silently on the polished floor, trying not to make a single sound, while simultaneously disabling the security cameras.

At the next bend, Sol suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Selene followed suit and immediately caught a familiar scent. A flash of golden light came around the corner and shot towards them. After a moment, the big blue eyes and tousled hair that Selene knew so well appeared in front of them. Sol hurried to cover Selene, putting her behind his back with his left hand. A blow from a fae blade (the one from the library) left a deep scarlet streak on his forearm.

The werewolf only growled slightly in pain and was about to attack back, but Selene stopped him by holding his shoulder, “Don’t do that. I’ll handle it myself.”

Without taking his menacing gaze off Chacey, Sol let Selene go ahead.

“Don’t be silly, Chacey,” Selene said softly. “Just let us pass.”

Selene noticed how restlessly the girl’s eyes were moving and how uncertainly she held the blade in front of her. She was clearly scared, and Selene decided to take advantage of it.

“Come on, you know you can’t beat us,” Selene said, hiding the daggers and raising her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I mean you no harm. Just let us pass and you won’t get hurt, I promise.”

The former student just shook her head. Her chin was trembling, and there were tears in her eyes that she tried unsuccessfully to hold back.

Selene sighed, “You don’t need it.”

“It’s not up to you to decide what I need and what I don’t need!” Chacey exclaimed, her voice shaking. “You almost killed me, but now I’m going to prove to you and everyone else that I’m not afraid! Perhaps then the Prince will pay attention to me!”

The girl lunged at Selene, raising the blade above her head and intending to pierce her former mentor’s heart with it. However, her attack was too clumsy. Selene easily dodged the attack and went behind her opponent’s back.

Sol started to intervene, but Selene waved him back.

Chacey, whose cheeks were wet with tears, turned around and continued to attack. Her attacks were awkward, and Selene managed to parry them easily.

The girl’s face twisted into a grimace of rage. In a fit of impotent anger, she raised the blade again, aiming for Selene’s chest. However, Selene caught her hand and twisted her wrist, causing Chacey to unclench her fingers and drop the weapon. Selene then kneed her in the stomach, causing the girl to double over and fall to all fours.

Picking up the golden blade from the floor, Selene said, “That’s enough, Chacey. Calm down.”

The young vampire was sobbing on all fours, not looking up. At that moment, Selene felt sorry for her. She really meant her no harm. Chacey was just as vulnerable as Selene had once been. Suddenly, the sobs turned into a wild cat squeal, and Chacey leapt at her mentor. Selene instantly grouped up and drew a golden arc in the air with the blade. There was the sickening sound of a head hitting the marble floor. The body collapsed after him. The smooth glossy walls and gilt-framed paintings were stained with crimson splashes.

Selene couldn’t take her eyes off Chacey’s lifeless eyes. They looked at her reproachfully. Those big blue eyes seemed to be forever frozen in their sadness.

“I’m sorry,” Selene whispered, and plunged the point into the poor girl’s heart.

The fae blade rang happily as it received its portion of blood. Selene tossed it aside in disgust.

Sol walked over to her and gently pulled her along, “Come on, Selene,” he said. “We need to move on.”

The girl nodded and followed him down the echoing corridor. They reached the wide archway that led to the castle courtyard. Stepping carefully on the stone slabs, they looked around. The courtyard was eerily silent. The heavy wrought-iron doors of the palace’s main entrance were visible across from them, but their destination was not this one, but a modest side passage in the eastern part of the building leading to a small pier. There, Selene hoped, Frey would be waiting for them. She silently prayed that nothing would happen to him and that no one would get to him.

The deafening sound of pistol bolts clicking cut through the silence. Pistol barrels were pointed at them from the windows of all three floors of the palace. The guards surrounded Selene and Sol, forcing them to the center of the courtyard, where they were clearly visible.

Selene, trying to keep her cool, quickly assessed the situation. Just as she’d expected, every step they took to the side threatened to turn into a bullet in the heart. The parapets were empty, but as soon as they both moved, they would be fired upon.

Selene knew that the guards wouldn’t kill her – Victor needed her alive. But Sol’s fate was sealed. As she desperately searched for a way to escape, Sol slowly raised his hand and closed his eyes. At the same time, Selene felt the air around them tremble with an invisible force. The thinnest golden veil covered all the openings and exits, swaying in the ghostly wind.

The guards froze in confusion for a few seconds, but then they tried to break through the barrier. However, it turned out to be strong and withstood several blows and a short burst of shots. Realizing that they were cut off from their target, the guards began to attack the barrier even more fiercely.

“Get up there!” Sol commanded through gritted teeth, barely holding the barrier.

“What about you?” Selene asked.

“I’ll follow you, come on!”

And she deftly climbed up the plastered brick wall to the roof, looking around to see if Sol was following her. He kept up, closing the distance with confident and powerful jerks. His injured arm was making itself felt, and the werewolf winced with pain every time he leaned on it. They quickly scaled the parapet and headed for the east side of the palace, where they planned to reach Frey.

Despite Sol’s efforts, the barrier was getting weaker, and Selene could already hear the approaching pursuit. When she reached the right spot, she leaned over the carved railing and peered down. Fortunately, the sun was hidden behind clouds that day, saving her the trouble of hiding her eyes behind her glasses. Below, wedged between two damp walls, the boats bobbed peacefully, completely indistinguishable from each other and gently bumping their sides against the dock. Selene quickly looked for the right boat with the inscription “White Rose” on the starboard side and broke into a satisfied smile. At first glance, the boat seemed empty, but Selene knew that this was a deceptive impression.

They were about to jump down onto the dock when a gunshot rang out behind them. Selene felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder. She gave a small cry and automatically clutched at the wound. Sol, who had already climbed over the fence, wanted to help her, but Selene shook her head. She forced herself to ignore the pain and climbed over after him.

They jumped three stories down onto the wooden planks of the dock. Then they climbed into the motorboat that Selene pointed out. At the same time, Frey materialized out of thin air and appeared at their side.

“Who’s that?” the mage asked, looking at Sol in surprise.

“Not now. Start the engine!” Selene blurted out, noticing that the guards were already aiming in their direction.

The engine roared, and the boat sped like a white arrow through the narrow channels, leaving the roar of gunfire behind.

Chapter 8

Their pursuit continued, turning into a race through the cramped streets of Venice. The boats maneuvered between buildings, skimming under low-hanging bridges to the surprise of onlookers. Finally, Frey steered their small craft out into the Grand Canal, where he accelerated, drawing them farther away from their pursuers.

Selene and Sol were constantly watching the approaching black speedboats, which were rapidly closing the distance. Suddenly, as if by ill will, the sky darkened, gathering into thunderclouds that absorbed the white light of day. The refreshing wind, laced with ozone, increased, dispelling the sweltering heat. The emerald waters of the canal rippled, heralding a storm.

People hurriedly left the streets, closing windows and doors, saving everything that could be saved from the impending disaster. A deafening rumble shook the city as crimson lightning streaked through the black sky, illuminating the entire space with infernal light. A downpour followed it, turning everything around her into a cacophony of howling wind, lashing water, and thunder.

Selene realized that the Prince, not wanting to let them go, was ready to unleash all his power on the city, plunging it into the abyss of chaos. Despite the heavy rain, the three of them continued on their way, fighting the violent pitching. The storm was raging, the sea was boiling, mercilessly smashing boats and gondolas, dragging everything that came in the way, into the depths of the sea.

Frey, gripping the wheel tightly, somehow managed to keep his balance and steer the boat. His blond hair was plastered to his face, and his glowing green eyes were fixed forward as if he was looking for something important.

“What’s he up to?” Sol shouted, trying to get over the noise of the storm.

Selene didn’t answer, because at that moment Frey turned the steering wheel sharply, and fog enveloped them, and the world and all sounds disappeared.

***

A thick milky veil covered everything, swallowing up sounds like a bottomless void. When the veil lifted slightly, it became possible to distinguish each other. Their ears were still buzzing, as if they were covered with cotton wool, but through it came the soft lapping of the waves and the muffled hum of the boat’s engine. Time itself seemed frozen in the dim light of eternal dawn, stopped on the threshold between sunset and sundown. After the chaotic storm, such serenity was disconcerting.

“Where are we?” Sol asked, looking around in confusion. His voice was muffled, as if coming from behind a closed door.

“On the fae trails,” Frey said. He kept his eyes fixed on the space ahead, guiding them along paths that only he knew.

“We could be trapped if we don’t find a way out soon,” Sol said anxiously.

The fae trails were dangerous to everyone but the Fae themselves. They used these trails for instant travel around the world and to their realm on Avalon⁹. Many travelers, whether through carelessness or malice, set foot on these paths, disappeared forever. The few who managed to find their way back would return to their native lands, finding that centuries had passed since their absence, for time in these ephemeral lands flowed according to its own incomprehensible laws.

“Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing,” Selene reassured the werewolf, wringing out her long, damp hair.

Sol just gave Frey a dark look of doubt and disbelief.

“He saved the life of a fae once, who taught him to walk their trails in gratitude,” the girl explained.

Sol raised his eyebrows. After all, fae and witches fought a long and bloody war centuries ago. As a result of this conflict, the fae were forced to hide on the island of Avalon, becoming rare visitors to the human world. Despite the fact that war was a thing of the past, feuds between fae and witches still lingered unseen among their peoples.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Sol asked.

Selene told him everything from the Prince’s request to interrogate Sol to their escape from the city. Frey’s frown deepened as she talked about Victor.

“But how did you know I wouldn’t try to attack when you decided to free me?” the wolf asked, narrowing his eyes slyly.

“I decided to take the risk, because it was in our mutual best interests to get out, and the two of us had a better chance of escaping,” Selene shrugged and immediately grimaced.

The movement sent a sharp pain through her shoulder. The stuck bullet, which Selene had forgotten about for a while, stirred inside. She felt the wound carefully through the thick fabric of her black jacket, and her fingers turned scarlet.

“This costume is ruined,” the girl clicked her tongue.

Selene bared her injured shoulder and pulled out the bag of blood that Frey had taken the precaution of carrying. As she took a few sips through the tube, she felt the life-giving moisture coursing through her veins, filling every cell with strength. Her shoulder itched, and the healing tissue finally pushed the bullet out. The wound instantly healed, leaving not the slightest trace. Sol picked up the bullet from the bottom of the boat and examined it carefully.

“Aspen,” he said thoughtfully, twirling the piece of wood between his fingers. “You obviously weren’t meant to be killed.”

Selene felt Frey tense up.

“Yes, otherwise they would have shot gold,” she said.

Another pall of thick fog enveloped them, temporarily knocking them senseless. But it quickly dissipated, and the world was once again filled with sounds and colors. They were out on the open sea, under the cold light of the waxing moon and stars. The night had already passed in its chariot, covering the firmament with a gloomy veil. The setting sun left only a thin streak of golden-purple light on the horizon.

“You should do something about it, too,” Selene said, pointing to the long gash on Sol’s arm that stubbornly refused to heal.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said.

“We don’t have any hearts with us,” Selene warned.

She knew that, like vampires who need blood to survive, werewolves must feed on the hearts of other creatures. The exact reason for this was unknown, but legend had it that the hearts were a favorite treat of the mythical Fenrir wolf, whom the werewolves revered as their god and progenitor.

Frey stopped the boat and turned off the engine.

“I can help,” he offered.

Sol reluctantly held out his injured hand, and the druid carefully felt and examined it. Then he took out one of his travel bags and began sorting through the bottles and bottles of powders and herbs, searching for the necessary ingredients.

While her friend was doing the healing, Selene took out an ancient coin from an inner pocket, darkened with age. On one side of the coin was an image of the Aztec god Yakatekutli, and on the other – a crossroads. In the distant past, travelers made blood sacrifices to this deity, asking him to show them the right path. Selene gripped the cold metal with her bloodied fingers and hoped that this small offering would be enough to point the way for her old friend.

Chapter 9. The Port of Bristol, England, 1695

“Selene, are you sure?” Frey asked, looking doubtfully at the pirate brig bobbing in the dark water.

Its red lacquered sides glistened in the streetlamp light. In the velvet darkness of the night, the ship looked soaked in blood. The black sails were furled and blended in with the shadows dancing on the waves. The nose figure in the form of a dragon’s head threateningly opened its mouth, ready, it seemed, to spew hellfire.

“We don’t have many options, and they certainly won’t ask questions here,” Selene said.

“I don’t want to let you go alone in case something goes wrong,” Frey said anxiously.

Selene smiled and patted her friend’s silky hair, “Go get some supplies for the road now, and meet me here later.”

Frey sighed and, with one last incredulous glance at the pirate ship, headed towards the tavern, where loud voices, music, and drunken laughter could be heard.

Selene headed for the ship. The deck was almost empty, and most of the crew must have been partying in the tavern. The girl saw only a few sailors on board, busy loading barrels and crates. The process was led by a man wearing a gray-green fishskin vest over his naked body. His blond hair, tied back in a ponytail, contrasted with his weather-beaten, tanned face.

Selene decided to approach him.

“Good evening, sir,” she said to the man. “Can you tell me where I can find the captain?”

He turned to her, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. A mother-of-pearl seashell bobbed in his left ear. His yellow-green eyes looked strange to her: the light from the streetlights reflected off the rims that encircled his dark pupils. He smelled of sea salt and fish scales. The pirate chewed thoughtfully on a toothpick, a frown creasing the corners of his eyes.

“The captain is in his cabin, but I’m afraid he’s not in the mood for girls right now,” the man said, running his eyes appreciatively over her figure and slender waist, which was encased in a black leather corset.

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Примечания

1

Good evening (Italian).

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2

Hello (Italian).

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3

Founded in 1310, it is a body designed to protect the political and social power of the Republic of Venice.

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4

Imbolc (Saint Brigitte’s Day) is a Celtic spring festival, one of the festivals of the Wheel of the Year, celebrated on the night of February 1—2.

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5

In Celtic mythology, it is a taboo prohibition, the violation of which entails death on the night of Samhain.

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6

Ancient Egyptian god of magic.

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7

Beauty (Old Norse).

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8

Dog, hunting dog (Ancient Egyptian).

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9

In Celtic mythology, it is a mythical island, a land of eternal youth and abundance.

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