Ashes and Echoes
1112 Words
The heartbeat beneath Blackstone faded slowly into silence, but the city did not relax. Fear lingered in the chamber like smoke after fire.
No one moved immediately. The silver flames still twisted through the cracked ceiling overhead, casting pale light across ruined marble and bloodstained floors while Hollowed creatures crouched silently near the broken doorway. They were watching Lena, and waiting.
Amias’ hands remained on her arms, steadying her after the vision. Even through the fabric of her sleeves, his touch felt unnaturally cold. Or perhaps she was burning. Her skin still throbbed where the mark had spread across her shoulder.
“You need to sit down,” he said quietly.
Lena let out a faint, disbelieving laugh. “That feels like a dramatic understatement.”
To her surprise, something softened briefly in his expression.
It was tiny and almost invisible, but human enough to unsettle her. Yvette noticed it too.
The vampire woman folded her arms near the shattered doorway, observing the two of them with growing interest. “The council is going to love this.”
“They’ll survive the disappointment,” Amias replied.
“That depends entirely on whether the city survives the night.”
The words darkened the room again.
Lena slowly pulled away from Amias’s grip, needing space to think. Or at least attempt to think. Every answer she received only seemed to split reality open wider.
Elanis. Veilborn. The Hollow King.
And somehow all of it pointed back to her.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly.
The older council vampire gave a cold laugh. “You believe vampires exist beneath your city, but reincarnation is where you draw the line?”
“I didn’t say reincarnation.”
“No,” he replied. “You simply wear the face of a dead queen and awaken powers buried for four centuries.”
Lena rubbed a hand against her temple. Exhaustion pressed heavily behind her eyes now, tangled with fear and confusion.
“Stop calling her a queen,” Amias said suddenly.
The room fell silent.
The older vampire narrowed his black eyes. “History doesn’t change because it makes you uncomfortable.”
Something sharp passed across Amias’s expression then. It was fast enough Lena almost missed it.
Pain. Real pain.
Before she could understand why, another tremor rolled softly beneath the city. Smaller this time, and distant.
Blackstone seemed to exhale around them.
The Hollowed creatures near the doorway twitched uneasily before retreating farther into the corridor shadows. None attempted to attack again.
“They’re withdrawing,” Yvette observed.
“Why?” Lena asked.
No one answered immediately.
Then Amias said quietly, “Because they heard him wake.”
The him needed no clarification. A strange chill slid through Lena’s chest.
She moved toward one of the towering windows overlooking Blackstone. From here, the underground city looked endless. She could see bridges arching over dark chasms and candlelit towers rising beneath stone ceilings lost in shadow. But now panic spread visibly through the streets below.
Vampires moved quickly through the corridors and stairways, messengers running between districts while silver alarm fires burned atop ancient towers.
The entire hidden city was afraid. And somehow she was standing at the center of it.
“You said the Hollow King was chained beneath the cathedral,” she said softly without turning around. “Why?”
Amias remained silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, his voice had changed. Quieter now.
“Because nothing could kill him.”
Lena looked back toward him slowly.
The room had emptied slightly while she’d been distracted. The wounded messenger was gone, along with two council vampires. Only Yvette and the older black-eyed council member remained.
“The Hollow King existed before vampires,” Amias continued. “Before kingdoms. Before most human civilizations understood what immortality truly cost.”
“And he created vampires?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
“He cursed them.”
Silence followed.
Lena frowned slightly. “I thought vampires stole immortality from him.”
“They did.” Yvette moved closer, silver eyes reflecting the pale firelight. “And in return, he ensured they would never truly keep what they loved.”
Memory.
Suddenly the curse made terrible sense. Lena’s chest tightened. Amias’s gaze drifted briefly toward the portrait above the fireplace before returning to her.
“Immortality without loss creates monsters,” he said quietly. “So he gave us permanence with one hand and took permanence away with the other.”
Lena thought of Evelyn forgetting her. Of old friends losing her face. Of birthdays spent alone because eventually everyone became strangers.
“What does that have to do with me?”
No one answered immediately. The older council vampire finally spoke.
“That,” he said, “is what terrifies us.”
Before Lena could respond, a servant entered the chamber carrying a silver tray. Crystal glasses rested upon it beside an untouched teapot releasing faint steam.
The interruption felt strangely normal against the chaos of the night, which somehow made everything more surreal. The servant froze the instant he saw Lena. Confusion flickered across his face. Then uncertainty.
“You…” His brow furrowed slightly. “Have we met?”
Lena’s stomach dropped. Amias noticed immediately.
The servant blinked again, confusion deepening. “Forgive me. I thought—”
“You may leave,” Amias interrupted sharply.
The servant bowed quickly and disappeared.
Silence settled once more.
Yvette looked thoughtful now. “Interesting.”
“What?” Lena asked quietly, though she already knew.
“He forgot you,” Yvette said. “Almost instantly.”
A familiar ache spread through Lena’s chest. Of course he had. Even here. Even now.
The older council vampire studied her carefully. “Perhaps the curse never left you after all.”
Amias’s jaw tightened.
Lena looked away quickly, suddenly exhausted by the pity threatening to surface in the room. She moved toward the fireplace instead, drawn unwillingly toward the portrait above it.
Lady Elowen. Or Elanis. Or whoever she had once been. The painted woman stared back at her with knowing eyes. And for the first time, Lena noticed something else hidden within the portrait.
A figure standing partly obscured in the background shadows. He was tall, dark-haired, and silver-eyed.
Amias. But younger somehow. Emotionally, not physically. The painted version of him looked alive in a way the real one no longer did.
Lena stared at the portrait quietly.
“You loved her,” she said before thinking.
The room went still.
Behind her, silence stretched long enough to become an answer itself.
When Amias finally spoke, his voice was almost unreadable.
“Yes.”
- Writer
