The Vesper Creed

Chapter 15

Aizere's Point of View

The moon was a sharp, pale sliver over the jagged treeline as I stepped out of the Mikaelson mansion. The air had turned biting, and the shadows of the towering pines seemed to stretch toward me like reaching fingers. The weight of the adoption papers in my bag felt like lead, and my mind was still reeling from the image of the "Blue Weaver" saving me.

I headed for my red sedan, my hands shaking as I reached for the door handle. Ezrain appeared beside me in a blur, his hand catching the edge of the door before I could open it.

"You're in no state to drive, Aizere," he said, his silver eyes searching mine. "The revelation is a shock, but the forest is waking up. It isn't safe."

He took the keys from my hand, his cool fingers lingering against my palm for a second longer than necessary. He guided me to the passenger side, and as he took the wheel, a heavy silence settled between us. We began the drive down the winding mountain pass, the headlights of the car cutting through a fog that seemed to get thicker with every mile.

Suddenly, Ezrain slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the asphalt, and Snow let out a sharp hiss from the back seat.

Standing dead center in the middle of the road was a man draped in a heavy, dark cloak. He didn't move as the car's high beams hit him; he simply stood there, a shadow within a shadow. Slowly, he raised a pale, long-fingered hand and pointed toward the tallest peak of the Caxwell mountains.

"He's leading us," Ezrain hissed, his jaw tightening. He looked at the steep, rocky incline of the mountain. "The car won't make it up there, and we don't have time to hike."

He stepped out of the car and moved to my side, opening the door. His expression was more intense than I had ever seen it. "Aizere, trust me. If we want the truth, we have to get to that peak before he vanishes. Climb on my back. Hold on tight and do not let go."

I didn't hesitate. I climbed onto his back, locking my arms around his neck. The moment I was secure, the world vanished.

Ezrain moved with terrifying super speed. It wasn't like traveling in a car; it was a visceral, bone-shaking rush of wind and blurred trees. I felt the incredible power in his muscles as he leapt over ravines and scaled near-vertical rock faces in seconds. The air grew thinner and colder until, with one final, lung-bursting leap, we landed on the flat, stone plateau at the very top of the mountain.

The wind howled up here, whipping my hair across my face. In the center of the plateau, standing with his back to us, was the man. He stood perfectly still, overlooking the valley of Caxwell like a silent sentinel.

Ezrain set me down gently but immediately stepped in front of me, his body tensing into a predatory crouch. A low, dangerous growl vibrated in his chest.

"I killed you," Ezrain hissed, his voice echoing off the ancient stones. "I drove my blade into your heart and watched you fall into the abyss."

The man slowly turned around. He reached up with a hand adorned with a glowing blue stone and pulled back the heavy hood of his cloak. His face was weathered, etched with the lines of a thousand secrets, and his eyes held a shimmering, iridescent light.

Ezrain's breath hitched, the name escaping his lips like a curse.

"Silas."

The warlock looked past Ezrain, his gaze landing on me with a fatherly sort of sorrow. "The girl from the silk bundle has finally returned to the mountain," he said softly. "I told your adoptef father the shadows would find you, Aizere. I just didn't realize they would be the ones you're standing behind."

The blue stone on Silas's ring began to pulse with a rhythmic, ethereal light, casting long, sapphire shadows across the jagged rocks of the summit. As the glow intensified, I felt a strange heat radiating from my own chest, as if my heart were beating in sync with the warlock's jewelry.

Ezrain didn't move, his fangs still partially bared, his body coiled like a spring. "Explain yourself, Silas. I felt my blade sink into you. I watched you die."

"You saw what I needed you to see, Ezrain Mikaelson," Silas said, his voice carrying over the howling wind. He stepped forward, the blue light of his ring illuminating the deep, jagged scar on his chest—the mark where Ezrain's blade had struck nineteen years ago. "If I hadn't faked my death at your hands, the shadows would have known I survived. And if they knew I survived, they would have known I hadn't come away from that burning estate empty-handed."

He turned his gaze to me, his eyes softening. "I took the Lightwood heir because I was the only one who knew the truth. You all called me a traitor, but I was the only one who saw the betrayal coming from the depths of the Pit itself."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, stepping out from behind Ezrain's protective shadow. "Who killed my family?"

"The m******e wasn't a random attack by mindless spirits, Aizere," Silas said, his expression darkening. "The mastermind isn't among the living, nor is he a simple vampire. It was the Leader of the Dark Warlocks—a man who sold his soul to become the hand of the Dark Shadows in Hell. They are led by Hades himself, and they seek to extinguish the four pillars so that the gates of the underworld can swing wide."

Ezrain's silver eyes widened. "Hades? That's a myth. A story we tell to keep the younger hunters in line."

"Is it?" Silas countered, pointing his glowing ring toward the dark valley below. "If it's a myth, why did they hunt a baby across the country? Why did they follow her to Georgia?"

He looked back at me, his voice heavy with the weight of destiny. "You are the Last Protector, Aizere. The Lightwood blood is the only key that can seal the gate. I hid you with the Forbes family because their lives were so mundane, so remarkably 'human,' that your energy was dampened. I needed you to grow up without the 'Sight' so the Dark Warlocks would think the pillar was truly broken."

He stepped closer, the blue light of the ring now blindingly bright. "But the shadows are rising in the woods again because Hades knows. He knows the 'dead' child has returned to the soil where she was born. And he knows that if he kills the last Lightwood, the Mikaelsons, the Blacks, and the Pierces will have no heart left to lead them."

Ezrain's growl died down, replaced by a grim, cold realization. He looked at me, then back at the warlock. "If what you're saying is true, then Caxwell isn't just a town anymore."

"No," Silas whispered. "It's the final battlefield. And Aizere is the only one who can close the door."