What Remains
1527 Words
Lena did not sleep.
Though dawn meant little beneath Blackstone, the city still observed the rhythm of night and day in its own strange way. By the time the silver alarm fires outside the windows finally dimmed to softer embers, exhaustion sat heavily behind Lena’s eyes, but sleep remained impossible.
Too much had changed in a single night. Vampires existed. An ancient creature beneath the city knew her name. She apparently shared the face of a dead queen.
And Amias, the terrifying, silver-eyed vampire who looked at her as though she were both salvation and catastrophe, had loved the woman she might once have been.
The thought lingered uncomfortably in her chest.
Lena stood alone near one of the towering windows overlooking Blackstone, arms folded tightly against the chill that never fully left the underground city. Far below, movement continued through the streets and bridges carved into the cavernous depths beneath Valoria.
The city was beautiful in a deeply unsettling way. Candles flickered in gothic windows. Black stone towers rose beneath vaulted cavern ceilings. Long bridges curved over dark chasms disappearing into endless shadow.
It felt less like a hidden city and more like a forgotten kingdom buried beneath the world. And somehow, according to everyone around her, she belonged to it.
The thought made her stomach tighten.
Behind her, the massive chamber had quieted considerably since the chaos earlier that night. The broken marble had been cleared away. The Hollowed creatures were gone. Servants moved silently through the halls repairing damage as though violent supernatural attacks were simply another inconvenience of noble life.
Lena still couldn’t decide whether that was horrifying or absurd.
A soft knock sounded behind her. She turned slightly.
Yvette entered carrying a silver tray with a steaming teapot and two delicate black porcelain cups balanced beside it.
“You look terrible,” she observed calmly.
Lena sighed faintly. “Good morning to you too.”
“It’s not morning.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yvette set the tray carefully onto a small table near the fireplace before glancing toward the portrait above it. Or rather, toward Elanis.
The sight still unsettled Lena every time she looked at it.
“You’ve been staring at that painting for nearly an hour,” Yvette said.
“I was hoping it would start making sense.”
“And?”
Lena looked back toward the portrait. “Unfortunately, no.”
Yvette poured tea with elegant precision. “That tends to happen when you discover you may or may not be a dead immortal queen reborn.”
“You say things like that far too casually.”
The corner of Yvette’s mouth curved slightly. “You adapt quickly.”
“I think I’m still in shock.”
Lena accepted the offered cup cautiously. The warmth against her hands felt grounding somehow, anchoring her to something ordinary amid the insanity surrounding her.
For a while, neither spoke. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable exactly. Yvette possessed a stillness Lena was beginning to recognize among vampires. They had a patience that felt unnatural compared to human restlessness. Or perhaps immortal beings simply experienced time differently.
Eventually Lena asked quietly, “How old are you?”
Yvette lifted a brow. “That’s considered rude in some cultures.”
“You drink blood.”
“And yet manners remain important.”
Lena almost smiled despite herself.
“About one hundred and seventy-three,” Yvette admitted after a moment.
Lena nearly choked on her tea.
“You said that way too casually.”
“You become less dramatic about age after the first century.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Yvette leaned lightly against the table near the fireplace, studying her with quiet curiosity. “You’re adapting unusually well.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Most humans confronted with our existence either faint, scream, or attempt to stab someone.”
“That option still feels available.”
A faint laugh escaped Yvette before she could stop it.
The sound surprised them both.
Lena blinked. “You do know how to smile.”
“Don’t spread that around.”
For the first time since arriving in Blackstone, some of the tension in Lena’s chest loosened slightly.
Her gaze drifted inevitably back toward Elanis’s portrait.
“Was she really a queen?”
Yvette’s expression became unreadable again.
“Yes.”
“What kind of queen?”
“The dangerous kind.”
That answer somehow felt honest.
Lena stared at the painted woman’s face. “Did you know her?”
“Sort of.”
The quietness of the response drew Lena’s attention immediately.
Yvette looked toward the portrait with an expression Lena couldn’t fully decipher. It was neither fear nor admiration. Grief, perhaps.
“She was…” Yvette paused briefly, as though searching for the correct word. “Complicated.”
“That’s usually never a good sign.”
“No,” Yvette agreed softly. “It rarely is.”
Lena hesitated before asking the question that had lingered painfully in her mind for hours.
“And Amias?”
Yvette’s silver-gray eyes shifted toward her immediately.
“What about him?”
“He loved her.”
Not a question this time.
A statement.
The room grew quieter.
“Yes,” Yvette said after a moment.
Lena looked down into her tea. “You make it sound tragic.”
“It was tragic.”
Something tightened unpleasantly beneath Lena’s ribs.
She disliked how affected she felt by that answer. Disliked even more that part of her wanted to know details she had absolutely no right to care about.
“How long has he been alive?” she asked.
“Long enough to regret most of it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Yvette considered her carefully. “Amias was turned during the fifteenth century.”
Lena stared at her. “You’re serious.”
“Unfortunately.”
She tried to picture him centuries younger and somehow couldn’t. Amias already carried age in strange ways, not physically, but emotionally. Like someone who had spent too long surviving things no one should survive.
It explained the stillness in him. The restraint. The exhaustion hidden beneath composure.
A faint movement near the doorway interrupted her thoughts. Lena looked up instinctively.
Amias stood there. She hadn’t heard him enter. He looked completely composed in his dark clothing. But something about him seemed more tired than before.
His gaze found Lena immediately, and stayed there. That strange intensity returned again. She had the unsettling feeling that he was seeing far more than her face whenever he looked at her.
Yvette noticed the silence stretching between them and sighed softly.
“I suddenly remember several places I need to be.”
“You absolutely do not,” Lena muttered.
But Yvette was already moving toward the doors with suspicious speed.
“Try not to emotionally destroy each other while I’m gone,” she said lightly before disappearing into the corridor.
The doors shut behind her, leaving Lena alone with Amias. The room immediately felt smaller. Neither spoke at first.
Amias crossed slowly toward the fireplace, his attention briefly lifting toward Elanis’s portrait before settling back on Lena.
“You should be resting.”
Lena folded her arms. “People keep saying that like sleep is possible after discovering I might be an ancient supernatural disaster.”
A faint shadow of amusement touched his expression. It was gone quickly, but she saw it. And somehow that felt more dangerous than his coldness.
“The council is unsettled,” he said after a moment.
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is.”
Lena sighed softly. “Wonderful.”
Amias studied her quietly for several seconds. “They fear uncertainty.”
“They fear me.”
“Yes.”
The honesty startled her less now. Amias rarely softened truths. Even painful ones.
Lena looked toward the portrait again. “Do you?”
Silence lingered.
When he answered, his voice was quieter than before.
“No.”
The word settled strangely in her chest.
“Why not?”
His silver eyes held hers steadily.
“Because you are not her.”
The answer should have relieved her. Instead, something about it hurt unexpectedly.
Amias seemed to notice. A faint crease appeared between his brows before he looked away toward the city beyond the windows.
“You may share memories,” he said carefully. “Fragments. Emotions. But Lena and Elanis are not the same person.”
Lena swallowed slowly. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
The silence afterward became very still.
Amias turned back toward her gradually.
For one dangerous second, something vulnerable flickered beneath his composure.
Then it vanished.
“You should eat,” he said instead.
Lena stared at him incredulously. “That’s your escape strategy?”
“It’s a practical concern.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Despite herself, Lena laughed softly.
The sound seemed to catch him off guard. And for the first time since meeting him, Amias Stone looked less like an ancient predator and more like a man who had forgotten what warmth sounded like.
- Writer
