Vengeance Reborn

Chapter 5 ~ Remember

Leona's POV

Ice fills my veins. “What?”

Dad spreads several documents across the table. “Selene and her siblings cannot casually alter time.”

“But they did.”

“Yes.”

“That sounds pretty casual.”

“It nearly killed the barrier separating the divine realm from ours.”

I stop. “Oh.”

“Time is sacred,” Mom explains. “Even gods are bound by laws.”

Dad points toward the prophecy.

“Your parents' reset—our reset—was permitted because our deaths erased the bloodline necessary to prevent a future catastrophe. The intervention happened before the divergence had spread too far.”

“But mine?”

Dad's face darkens. “Yours required far more.”

My throat tightens. “The Blue Eclipse wasn't supposed to happen?”

“The eclipse itself was,” Mom says. “What occurred beneath it was not.”

Dad's fingers curl into a fist. “You were never supposed to die in that warehouse.”

My eyes burn. “My children?”

Mom's face crumples. Dad looks away for one heartbeat before forcing himself to meet my gaze again. “They weren't supposed to die either.”

A sob catches in my throat. I cover my stomach.

My babies.

Mom moves beside me immediately. Her arm wraps around my shoulders.

“They were supposed to live?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

That single word destroys me. I bow forward. Tears spill into my lap. I knew I'd mourn them. But knowing there existed a future where they should have breathed—

Where they should have cried—

Where I should have held them—

It hurts differently.

Dad kneels in front of me. “There is more.”

I wipe my face angrily. “Of course there is.”

His gaze doesn't waver. “Your children mattered to the prophecy too.”

I freeze. “What?”

Mom rubs my back. “The prophecy continues beyond the section you read.”

Dad turns another portion of the parchment.

More silver letters appear.

«From the Chosen Daughter shall rise the Dawnborn,

children conceived beneath divided blood yet carrying a soul untouched by division.

Through them shall the covenant endure beyond the age of darkness.

If mother and children fall beneath the Blue Moon before the final seal is opened,

the First Darkness shall inherit what the Goddess intended for dawn.»

My hands tremble.

“No.”

Dad's face is stone. “Your murder did more than end your life.”

Mom's voice breaks. “It severed the divine succession.”

“And whatever killed you knew it,” Dad says.

I look at him.

Whatever.

Not whoever.

“What do you mean whatever killed me?”

Dad's gaze sharpens. “You told us what you remembered.”

“Yes.”

“You told us the people involved.”

My stomach turns.

“Yes.”

“But you also described things you didn't realize were important.”

“What things?”

“The smell.”

I blink.

“My blood?”

“No.” Dad leans closer. “The other scent.”

I think back.

Concrete, rain, my blood, rust, sweat, my fear...

And—

Cold.

Something like burned cedar.

Ash.

Flowers rotting beneath frost.

My stomach rolls.

Dad sees recognition cross my face. “That.”

“What was it?”

Mom whispers. “Divine corruption.”

Silence. I stare at her.

“Someone connected to a fallen deity was there that night.”

My mouth goes dry.

Dad nods. “The people who betrayed you may have acted willingly.”

His eyes burn.

“Or they may have been manipulated.”

My heart stops.

Like my parents.

Pictures, lies, jealousy, fear, hatred... A mate bond destroyed through manipulation.

Then another. Then me.

“This has happened before.”

Dad nods. “Our family has been attacked through our relationships for generations. Starting with Seraphina Knight...”

I stare at the prophecy. “Because killing us isn't enough.”

Mom smiles sadly. “Exactly.”

“Break the bond.”

Dad nods.

“Break the family.”

Mom nods.

“Break the bloodline.”

Dad finishes. “And eventually break the covenant.”

Everything clicks together.

Rebecca, Greg, my parents' original deaths,

The attempt when I was sixteen, Michael, my marriage, my babies, the warehouse.

“The same enemy?”

“We don't know,” Dad says.

“But you think so.”

“Yes.”

I sit back. My mind races. “So why February 5?”

Dad takes a long breath. “Because today is the last point in your timeline where every critical path can still be changed.”

My skin prickles. “What happens after today?”

“We don't know all of it,” Mom admits.

Dad points toward several symbols on the prophecy. “The gods showed us anchors.”

“Anchors?”

“Events that become increasingly difficult to change once they occur.”

My mating, my eighteenth birthday, the awakening, Michael, our marriage, our children, the Blue Eclipse.

I look toward them. “You mean fate has checkpoints.”

Dad gives a small nod. “That's one way to understand it.”

“And today is before the first one.”

“Yes.”

My heart pounds. “Which is?”

Dad stares directly at me. “Someone enters your life this week who should never have had access to you.”

Ice shoots through my body.

“Who?”

“We weren't given a name.”

I stand.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Leona—”

“No! You can't tell me some mysterious person is about to walk into my life and potentially cause an apocalypse and then say you don't know who!”

Mom raises her hands. “The Goddess showed us possibilities, not identities.”

“That's convenient.”

“Sweetheart.”

I turn away and walk toward the bay window. Outside, people move through the gardens, children run across the grass, warriors rotate shifts, someone is laughing near the fountain.

Normal life.

They have no idea. No idea that apparently time itself bent backward because I died.

No idea that there are gods watching us.

No idea that something called the First Darkness wants whatever is inside me.

No idea that my babies were supposed to become something called Dawnborn.

My reflection stares back from the glass.

Seventeen.

I don't feel seventeen anymore.

“What happens if I change too much?”

Mom answers carefully. “We don't know.”

I turn. “What happens if I refuse Michael?”

Dad's eyes flash. “Then you refuse him.”

“What if he's still my mate?”

Silence.

There it is.

My greatest fear.

“What if fate chooses him again?”

Mom stands. “Being someone's mate does not mean surrendering your judgment.”

Dad rises too. “A bond is not permission for abuse.”

My throat tightens.

“If Michael is your destined mate again,” he continues, “then he will answer for every action he takes in this life.”

His voice lowers. “And if he becomes the male who caused your death...” A deep growl rolls from his chest. “He won't survive long enough to put you in that warehouse.”

“Sebastian,” Mom warns.

“I said what I said.”

Despite everything, warmth fills my chest.

I look toward Mom. “What about my children?”

Her eyes fill. “We don't know whether the same souls will return.”

That nearly crushes me.

“But,” she quickly adds, gripping my hands, “the Goddess went against laws older than our civilization to return you here.”

I stare into her ocean-blue eyes.

“I refuse to believe she would save you only to torment you.”

Dad approaches. “Neither do I.”

My tears fall silently. “I want them back.”

Mom pulls me against her. “I know.”

“I never even held them.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I didn't get to tell them I loved them.”

Dad's arms wrap around both of us. “They knew.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “How?”

His voice softens. “Because they lived beneath your heart.”

That breaks whatever remained of my composure.

I cry.

Not like this morning. Not with terror.

This grief is quieter.

Deeper.

Mom holds me. Dad rests his cheek against my hair. For several minutes, nobody mentions prophecies.

Gods, Timelines, Enemies.

We're just us.

Eventually I pull away and wipe my face.

“Okay.”

Dad studies me. “Okay?”

I sniff. “If I've been sent back, then I'm not wasting it.”

Mom's expression changes.

Pride.

Fear.

Maybe both.

I walk toward the table. I pick up the prophecy. The crescent on the parchment glows beneath my fingers.

Tempest rises inside me.

We protect.

Snow's voice follows.

We remember.

My vampire instincts hum beneath both.

For the first time since waking, the three parts of me don't feel chaotic.

They feel aligned.

I look at my parents. “No more secrets.”

Dad inhales. Mom gives him a look.

He sighs. “Within the limits imposed by the Goddess.”

I narrow my eyes. “That's annoyingly specific.”

“I'm an annoyingly specific man.”

Mom mutters, “You can say that again.”

Dad looks at her. “What was that?”

“Nothing, my love.”

I almost laugh.

Almost.

Then I become serious. “I want everything you know.”

“You'll have it.”

“Every name involved in your first timeline.”

Dad nods.

“Every person involved in the second attempt when I was sixteen.”

Mom nods.

“Everything about the Moon Temple.”

“Yes.”

“The seals.”

“Yes.”

“My powers.”

“As much as we know.”

“The gods.”

Mom hesitates.

“As much as we're permitted.”

I sigh.

“Fine.”

Dad crosses his arms. “There will also be rules.”

I groan.

“Of course there will.”

“You will not confront anyone from your future alone.”

“I wasn't planning—”

He gives me a look.

I shut my mouth.

Fine. Maybe I was planning several confrontations.

“You will not reveal your rebirth,” he continues.

“Obviously.”

“To anyone.”

I hesitate. “Gabrielle and Dominick?”

“No.”

My heart sinks. “They're my best friends.”

“I know.”

“They died—”

I stop.

Mom looks sharply at me. Dad becomes still.

Oh.

I hadn't told them everything. Not everything about what came after the warehouse. Or what happened to everyone connected to me.

Dad's eyes narrow. “We'll return to that.”

Damn.

“Third,” he continues, “you will attend your training.”

“Starting tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

I groan.

“But your regimen will change.”

That gets my attention. “How?”

Dad's smile is terrifying. “Now that we know you have memories from age twenty-five, there is no reason to train you like an ordinary seventeen-year-old.”

Oh.

Fuck.

Mom pats my shoulder. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

I stare at her. “You're supposed to protect me.”

“From enemies.”

Dad stands straighter. “Not from training.”

Traitors. Both of them.

“Fourth,” Mom says, “you will begin lessons in divine history immediately.”

I groan louder. “More studying?”

“You wanted answers.”

“I wanted answers, not homework.”

Dad's eyebrow rises. “They are often the same thing.”

I hate when he's right.

“Fifth,” Mom says, “we reopen the Moon Temple.”

I stop complaining.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

My pulse quickens.

Dad looks toward the clock. “You were originally supposed to enter it on your eighteenth birthday.”

“But?”

“But the Goddess already activated your rebirth seal,” Mom says.

She looks toward my palm. The crescent has faded, but I can still feel it beneath my skin.

“The awakening has started early.”

I swallow.

“What happens when I enter?”

Neither parent answers.

Oh, come on.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

Dad clears his throat. “We genuinely don't know.”

“That is not comforting.”

“It wasn't intended to be.”

Mom elbows him. “What your father means is that the temple responds differently to every chosen heir.”

“How did it respond to him?”

Mom smiles.

Dad's expression darkens. “No.”

My eyes light up. “Oh?”

“Sophia.”

She ignores him. “Your father walked inside acting like he owned the place.”

“I was the heir.”

“And the temple knocked him unconscious for eight hours.”

I stare.

Then burst out laughing.

Dad glares at Mom. “You promised never to tell her.”

“No, I promised not to tell her before she entered the temple.”

His eyes narrow.

Mom smiles sweetly.

“She's entering tonight.”

I laugh harder.

Dad mutters something under his breath.

This is exactly what I needed. For a few seconds, I'm not the woman murdered beneath a Blue Eclipse.

I'm just Leona. Their daughter.

Then Dad's expression softens. “Laugh while you can, little one.”

I wipe my eyes. “Why?”

“Because there's one final thing you need to understand before we leave this room.”

Something about his tone kills my laughter.

Mom sobers too. Dad walks toward the hidden compartment. He removes one last object.

A small black stone.

The instant I see it, every instinct inside me screams.

Tempest snarls.

Snow roars.

My fangs drop.

I stumble backward.

“What is that?”

Dad doesn't touch it with his bare skin. It's wrapped in silver cloth. “A fragment collected from your original timeline.”

My heart stops. “What?”

Mom goes pale.

“It appeared inside the Moon Temple this morning.”

I can't look away.

Black veins pulse through the stone.

And beneath them—

Blue light.

The exact shade of the eclipse.

“How?”

“The reset brought something back with you,” Dad says.

My blood freezes.

“What do you mean?”

His golden eyes meet mine. “We thought the gods reset your timeline to prevent your death.”

He pauses.

“We were wrong.”

I stop breathing.

Mom's hand finds Dad's. “The gods did not only send you backward because you died.”

Dad's voice becomes almost a whisper.

“They sent you back because whatever caused the future to collapse survived your death.”

A slow pulse of blue light moves through the stone.

Once. Twice. Three times. Like a heartbeat.

“And now,” Dad says, “it remembers too.”

Tempest snarls inside me.

Snow rises on her hind legs.

My vampire blood burns.

I stare at the impossible object sitting between us.

Eight years.

The gods gave me eight years to expose the lies, understand my power, save my family, find my babies, discover who betrayed me.

And apparently...

Eight years before the monster that destroyed my first life can finish what it started.

My fingers curl into fists.

Fine.

Let it remember.

Because so do I.

And this time...

I'm coming for it first.