THE SNOW IN THE POLAR CITY HAD STOPPED FALLING, a place with sunlight. But the silence that followed was heavier than any storm. Smoke rose from scorched rooftops. Ice cracked underfoot where the head had touched it. The cobblestone streets were littered with cloaks abandoned when the people escaped.
Theo stood in the center of the courtyard, his black coat half-torn, and the sleeves blood-stained. He hadn’t slept. He had moved since the sun appeared and nearly killed his people. Now he moved as if he were made of iron.
The wounded had gathered in the grand hall of the Polar Tower, vampires too weak to move, huddled in the cold with burned and charred flesh, some crying, others silent.
Theo went to the grand hall. He strolled among the people silently at first.
He knelt by a youngste
