the crimson moon

Beneath the blood-red moon, Kael stood on the ancient battlements of a crumbling castle, the wind playing with the tattered hem of his cloak. His eyes glinted like black diamonds as he surveyed the silent courtyard below, where marble statues of forgotten saints wore the patina of ages. The night air was thick with the scent of damp moss and distant sea salt, a comforting reminder of the realm he’d once called home. As his tongue wet his lips, he wondered if this return would sate his deepest cravings or awaken an ancient hunger he could no longer deny. Kia stepped quietly from the stone archway cloaked in moonlight. She moved toward Kael, the breeze scattering her raven-black hair. “You came at last,” she murmured, her green eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. The words trembled on her lips with both relief and unspoken sorrow. Kael closed his eyes briefly, the memories of their last parting searing across his mind. “I promised,” he answered softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Kia’s face. His fingers lingered, tracing the gentle curve of a scar at her neck, a memento of battles past. “There is no place I’d rather be.” Caro’s voice cut through the darkness like a blade. “Enough solemnity in one place to quench a river,” she teased, emerging from the swirling mist below the battlement. The moonlight glinted on her twin knives, which she twirled with a dancer’s grace. Kael offered Caro a wan smile. “I missed your gentle warmth, Caro,” he said softly. Kia nudged Caro’s shoulder with a playful grin. “We must focus,” she chided. “Tonight the Count’s fortress awaits. Time for vengeance will not wait on our courtesies.” Kael stepped down from the battlements, joining Kia at the foot of the ruined tower. “We strike at midnight,” he murmured, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. “When the moon reaches its zenith, we enter the Count’s fortress. The guards will be naught but prey to our hunger.” Kia pressed a kiss against the back of Kael’s palm before drawing her sword with a whispering hiss. “And Count Draven himself?” she asked quietly. Kael fixed her with a grave stare. “He will fall by morning,” he vowed. Caro arched a brow, nocking an arrow. “I live for this night,” she said, eyes alight with savage excitement. Kael smirked, the crimson moon reflecting a promise on his lips. “Then live we will,” he whispered. They moved off through the whispering pines under the glowing moon. Ancient trees arched overhead, their skeletal branches entwining to form a fragile canopy. Silver shards of moonlight danced upon a carpet of fallen leaves as they rode in shadowed silence. Kael led the way on his black stallion, steadily picking up the trail toward Draven’s keep. Kia and Caro followed on their own steeds, blades unsheathed and senses sharpening as the forest grew darker. The air grew heavy and expectant, carrying with it a sense of dread and anticipation for what lay ahead. Without warning, a pack of wolves burst from the underbrush, drawn by the scent of fresh blood. They circled the trio with savage snarls. Kael dismounted in a fluid flash, bloodlust igniting behind his ageless eyes. “Split left!” he snarled, fangs bared. Caro crouched low and sent a razor-sharp dagger spinning through the air; it shattered a wolf’s skull in a spray of dark, warm blood. Kia sprang forward, twin swords moving in a deadly dance as she met the snarling lead wolf head-on. The clash of steel and fang lit the night air with a savage symphony. More wolves leapt from shadow and hollow. Kael lunged into the fray like a panther, sinews coiling with inhuman strength. Each swing of his silver-edged sword sent arcs of red across the moonlit glade. He tore a snout open with his bare hands, tasting warm wolf’s blood as it slid across his lips. Kia moved with lethal grace, spinning to avoid a snapping jaw and driving her blade through a wolf’s chest. Caro’s twin knives flickered; one found its mark in a beast’s flank, the other skived between the shoulder blades of a leaping attacker. Fur and blood flew, and for a moment the world narrowed to the brutal pulse of the hunt. Kael stood panting, sweat mingling with the dew on his brow and wolf’s blood on his lips. He wiped at his mouth with a curt sweep of his arm. Kia slashed at a stray vine clinging to her neck, freeing herself. She laughed, harsh and bright, the sound strangely euphoric. “Well,” she exclaimed, hair damp with victory, “that ought to keep the true horrors away for a while.” Kael answered only with a grim smile, eyes still glowing faintly red in the moonlight. A moment passed in quiet camaraderie as they caught their breath. They continued until the skeletal silhouette of Draven’s keep rose before them on a hill. The massive stone walls were half-ravaged by time and warped by dark magic. Vines as black as ink crawled up the towers, and gargoyles—half broken—stared down with hollow eyes. A crooked spire reached into the sky, and around its summit the moon’s light seemed to drip crimson like blood from some unseen chalice. The gate stood closed and silent, imposing and unreadable. Caro urged her horse to a stop and peered at the entrance. “Ancient wards,” she muttered, pointing to runic glyphs scorched into the arch. The air hummed with a faint power. Kael nodded, eyes narrowing. “Draven’s doing,” he said. “Even the stones obey him.” He moved forward, placing a hand on the gate. An icy pulse of energy raced up his arm. He and Kia exchanged a tense glance. Kael closed his eyes and gathered the darkness within. The runes flared bright, cracking like glass. With a thunderous groan, the iron gate shuddered open at their will. Torchlight glowed dimly within the ruined hall as the trio entered, weapons at the ready. The air was stale with dust and the lingering scent of old blood. Tattered tapestries fluttered against moldy stone walls as a distant drip of water echoed through the silence. In one corner, an overturned table spilled half-melted candles and shattered wine flasks. Above, a broken chandelier swayed, its chains loosed by rust. Every shadow seemed alive, watching them as they stepped deeper into the fortress. Kael led on, muscles coiled to strike. “Stay close,” he whispered. Kia drew a slow breath to steady herself as the flicker of torchlight cast dancing shadows on her face. Caro melted into the darkness behind him, blades at the ready. They came to a massive hall at the heart of the fortress. Statues of long-dead kings and knights lined the walls, their marble eyes staring blankly toward a vast throne draped in shadow. It was empty now, but Kael could sense the weight of countless unseen eyes upon them. A sudden crackle of arcane energy snapped through the air. Count Draven materialized on the throne like a demon emerging from smoke. His pale skin was drawn tight over sharp bone, and his eyes blazed red with cold malice. Black robes billowed around him. He lifted a wicked, ornate dagger, and tiny motes of blood glowed along its blade like rubies. “Welcome,” he said, voice smooth as polished stone. “You honor me with your visit.” Kael snarled and lunged forward. The throne room erupted into chaos. Draven unleashed a wave of shadowy magic, throwing Kael back against a column. Kia leaped to deflect a blast, steel ringing against ethereal force. Caro fired her crossbow from the darkness; the bolt whistled true, embedding deep in Draven’s shoulder with a sickening thunk. Draven hissed, sharp anger etching his features. “Foolish children,” he spat. “I will enjoy watching you bleed.” Kael twisted in midair, sword and dagger locking with Draven’s blade. Sparks flew as steel clashed with enchanted metal. Kia vaulted onto the edge of the throne, drawing her twin swords in a blur of motion and bringing them down in a fearsome arc. The blades sliced through Draven’s robes and seared the air, forcing him to reel. With a serpent’s grin, Draven’s eyes flashed with lightning. A shockwave of force hurled Kia backward into a stone bench, and she crumpled with a groan. Seizing his moment, Caro thrust a palm forward. A gust of wind knocked Draven off balance, and Kael roared as he kicked the Count hard in the chest. Draven stumbled and raised his hands in a flicker of darkness. In the next heartbeat, he vanished from sight—but not before a dagger of sickly light shot from where he had stood toward Kael. Caro threw herself in front of her friend; Draven’s enchanted blade buried itself in her shoulder. She screamed as she hit the stone floor. Warm blood blossomed across her gown. Kael’s eyes burned with horror. “Caro!” he shouted, dropping to his knees at her side. He pressed two fingers against the wound, tasting the hot copper of her blood. Caro whimpered, eyes fluttering closed as she tried to draw breath. “Stay with me,” Kael hissed, voice shaking. “I’ve got you.” He gently cradled her head in his hands. Kia was by his side in an instant, eyes blazing with rage and fear. “Hang on,” she urged, voice steady despite the panic in her chest. Minutes stretched in a deadly silence as Kael held Caro close. At last Caro’s eyelashes fluttered. Her gaze found Kael’s, fierce and pleading. “Kael…,” she whispered. Relief shattered his restraint. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, lips quivering. “I’m here,” he choked, brushing a kiss against her forehead. Kia wiped a tear from her cheek. “We will finish this,” she vowed quietly. Kael nodded, his heart burning with renewed fury. “Count Draven’s reign ends today,” he growled. Carefully, they helped Caro to her feet and supported her back to the waiting horses. They rode out as the first rays of sun split the horizon, crimson against gold. Kael cradled Caro against his chest, one hand pressed gently to her forehead, murmuring reassurances. Kia rode just ahead, glancing back with fierce loyalty in her eyes. The silhouette of Draven’s keep receded behind them, its old stones bathed in the golden light of dawn. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together The morning sun clawed weakly across the scarred landscape, smearing the sky with bruised shades of purple and gold. Kael tightened his grip on Caro, feeling the slow, fragile rhythm of her heartbeat through her blood-soaked tunic. Kia rode at his side, silent and grim. No birds sang in the twisted woods they passed through. No animals stirred. It was a place poisoned long ago by dark sorcery — a graveyard where even the trees wept in their stillness. They reached the shattered ruins of an old sanctuary by midday — a forgotten temple to gods long since slain by time and memory. The marble pillars had fallen, choked by black ivy and wild roses whose thorns glistened with dew like tears. Kael dismounted and carried Caro through the crumbling archway, setting her gently atop a stone slab veiled with moss. “She’s fading,” Kia whispered, kneeling beside them. Her fingers brushed Caro’s pale cheek, feeling the fever burning beneath her skin. Kael’s jaw tightened until his fangs nearly pierced his lower lip. “She won't die,” he said, voice like a dagger drawn across stone. “I won’t allow it.” Kia’s emerald eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Without blood magic… the wound festers.” Kael lowered his head, his shadow falling across Caro’s unmoving form. He felt the pull of her blood, the echo of their shared hunts, the laughter they had once breathed into each other’s scars. His hands trembled with the choice he faced. Kia rose and moved a few paces away, giving him space — and trust. Kael unsheathed the ceremonial dagger from his belt — ancient, cruel, etched with runes older than any throne. He drew the blade across his own palm, crimson welling up instantly. Then he pressed his bleeding hand against Caro’s mouth. "Drink," he urged hoarsely. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then Caro’s lips moved weakly, and Kael felt her begin to sip, the bond sparking between them with an electric rush. Color crept back into her cheeks. Her breathing steadied. Kia turned away, hiding the turmoil in her heart. It was forbidden among their kind — the sharing of blood outside the sacred bonds — but Kael had broken every law that had ever tried to bind him. And he would do it again. Caro’s eyes fluttered open, deep pools of violet reflecting the shattered sky above. “Kael…” she whispered, voice raw with gratitude, with hunger, with something more primal and dangerous. He brushed her hair from her face, his throat tight. “Rest,” he said. “You’re safe.” But in the deepest part of him, he knew safety was an illusion now. In saving her, he had bound them in ways even love could not untangle. As the sun dipped once more behind stormy clouds, Kia returned to them carrying news. “We are not alone here,” she said sharply. “There’s movement beyond the woods. Riders. Black banners.” Kael’s eyes darkened. “Draven's hounds?” Caro asked, sitting up despite her weakness. “Worse,” Kia said grimly. “The Bloodbound.” Kael cursed under his breath. The Bloodbound were no mere soldiers. They were an ancient order of vampire knights, bound by oaths of iron and flame to the old blood kings. Creatures of war, cruelty, and blind obedience. “They come to finish what Draven could not,” Kia said. Kael rose, sword in hand. “Then let them come,” he said. “And let them find that we are not the prey they hunt — but the hunters they will fear.” --- Nightfall The Bloodbound came in silence. Thirty riders clad in black steel, their helms shaped like snarling beasts, their cloaks shredded by countless battles. They moved like a living shadow through the ruined forest, blades catching the flicker of distant lightning. Kael, Kia, and Caro waited in the broken temple, hidden among the rubble. The moon broke free from the clouds just as the first of the Bloodbound entered the shattered courtyard. Kael moved first — a blur of leather and steel. He drove his sword through the lead rider’s chest before the creature could even cry out, twisting it free in a spray of dark blood. Kia hurled daggers from the shadows, each blade finding its mark with deadly precision. Caro, still weakened but burning with fury, fought beside them, slashing with twin short swords, moving with a ferocity that belied her wound. The courtyard became a killing ground. Kael fought like a demon unleashed, every movement honed by centuries of warfare and grief. His heart pounded with raw adrenaline, with the fierce joy of the hunt, and with the terrible knowledge that survival was no longer enough — vengeance demanded blood. He locked swords with a towering Bloodbound captain, the clash of steel ringing through the night. Their blades met again and again, sparks flying. The captain was strong — stronger than most Kael had faced in years — but Kael was faster. He ducked low, driving his dagger up beneath the knight’s armor, twisting it savagely. The captain gurgled and collapsed. Around him, the Bloodbound began to falter. Kia vaulted atop a crumbled pillar, raining death down on the enemy with each thrown dagger. Caro weaved between the attackers like a flame, her swords a blur of silver light. And then — a horn blew in the darkness beyond. The Bloodbound pulled back, retreating with a discipline that spoke of a greater plan. Kael watched them vanish into the night, chest heaving. "This isn't over," Kia said grimly. Kael wiped blood from his blade and stared into the shadows where the Bloodbound had fled. “No," he said. "It’s just beginning." --- Later By a small fire in the ruins, Kael sat with Caro and Kia, their faces lit by the low, flickering flame. Caro leaned her head against Kael’s shoulder, her body warm against his. There was no need for words between them; the blood bond sang in their veins. Kia watched them from across the fire, her heart aching with a nameless sorrow she could not voice. For she had loved Kael long before Caro had ever bled for him. She had loved him in the dark years when no one else would. And now, watching him slip further away, she felt the sharp bite of betrayal — and the deeper sting of her own silence. The fire crackled, sending embers spiraling into the starless sky. “We need allies,” Kia said finally, breaking the heavy quiet. Kael nodded, his eyes hard. “We need the Obsidian Court.” Caro sat up, alarmed. “They will not help us. They hate you, Kael. They hate all who defied the old blood oaths.” “They hate Draven more,” Kael said, lips curling into a dangerous smile. “And hate,” he added, “is the only true coin of loyalty left in this cursed world.” Kia rose, buckling her sword at her hip. “Then we ride at dawn. Kael stood and offered his hand to Caro, pulling her gently to her feet. She pressed her forehead to his chest --- The old mansion of Velmoria loomed over the valley like a wound against the twilight. Storm clouds gathered overhead, thick and bruised, rumbling as if the heavens themselves were afraid to speak Kael’s name. Inside the vast, crumbling halls, Kael stood before a grand mirror, staring not at his reflection — for vampires had none — but at the blood staining his hands. Kia watched him from the doorway, arms crossed, her crimson cloak swirling around her boots. “You hesitate,” Kia said, voice as sharp as a blade’s kiss. Kael didn’t turn. "Tonight, they gather. The Council of Blackened Hearts. If we move too soon, we lose everything." "And if we wait," Kia said coldly, stepping closer, "they will strike first. You know what Caro saw in his visions." At the mention of Caro’s name, Kael stiffened. The young seer had been quiet all day, lost in the labyrinth of his cursed sight. They needed him now more than ever. As if summoned by thought alone, Caro appeared at the hall’s far end, his silver hair glinting even in the gloom, his violet eyes haunted. “They come,” Caro whispered. "Through blood and betrayal. They wear the faces of those you once loved." A chill slid down Kael’s spine. “They will force your hand," Caro added, "but not your heart." Kael finally faced them both. His face, handsome and grim, carried the weight of old grief and new rage. "Prepare yourselves," he said. "Tonight, we dance with devils." --- The streets of Velmoria seethed with hidden dangers as the trio made their way through the mist. Kia moved like a phantom, twin daggers hidden beneath her sleeves. Caro, wrapped in a cloak stitched with ancient runes, whispered protective charms under his breath. At the heart of the city, the Blood Court awaited them. An abandoned cathedral, desecrated and twisted by dark magic. Black candles floated in midair, casting a sickly glow on the gathering vampires and their human thralls. And there, atop a throne made of bones and sorrow, sat Lord Veyrith — Kael’s once-brother, now his deadliest enemy. Veyrith’s smile was slow and cruel. "Kael," he purred. "I wondered when your pride would deliver you back to me." Kael strode forward, unflinching. "Your reign ends tonight." Laughter echoed from the shadows. Figures emerged — Seraphine, the seductress assasm Kael moved through it all like a storm, sword singing, his fury a thing of beauty The old mansion of Velmoria loomed over the valley like a wound against the twilight. Storm clouds gathered overhead, thick and bruised, rumbling as if the heavens themselves were afraid to speak Kael’s name. Inside the vast, crumbling halls, Kael stood before a grand mirror, staring not at his reflection — for vampires had none — but at the blood staining his hands. Kia watched him from the doorway, arms crossed, her crimson cloak swirling around her boots. “You hesitate,” Kia said, voice as sharp as a blade’s kiss. Kael didn’t turn. "Tonight, they gather. The Council of Blackened Hearts. If we move too soon, we lose everything." "And if we wait," Kia said coldly, stepping closer, "they will strike first. You know what Caro saw in his visions." At the mention of Caro’s name, Kael stiffened. The young seer had been quiet all day, lost in the labyrinth of his cursed sight. They needed him now more than ever. As if summoned by thought alone, Caro appeared at the hall’s far end, his silver hair glinting even in the gloom, his violet eyes haunted. “They come,” Caro whispered. "Through blood and betrayal. They wear the faces of those you once loved." A chill slid down Kael’s spine. “They will force your hand," Caro added, "but not your heart." Kael finally faced them both. His face, handsome and grim, carried the weight of old grief and new rage. "Prepare yourselves," he said. "Tonight, we dance with devils." --- The streets of Velmoria seethed with hidden dangers as the trio made their way through the mist. Kia moved like a phantom, twin daggers hidden beneath her sleeves. Caro, wrapped in a cloak stitched with ancient runes, whispered protective charms under his breath. At the heart of the city, the Blood Court awaited them. An abandoned cathedral, desecrated and twisted by dark magic. Black candles floated in midair, casting a sickly glow on the gathering vampires and their human thralls. And there, atop a throne made of bones and sorrow, sat Lord Veyrith — Kael’s once-brother, now his deadliest enemy. Veyrith’s smile was slow and cruel. "Kael," he purred. "I wondered when your pride would deliver you back to me." Kael strode forward, unflinching. "Your reign ends tonight." Laughter echoed from the shadows. Figures emerged — Seraphine, the seductress assassin; Drevok, the monster born of broken oaths; Lira, once Kael’s beloved, now Veyrith’s blood witch. Each face was a dagger in Kael’s chest. "You still think love makes you strong," Veyrith sneered. "But it will be your undoing." Before Kael could speak, Seraphine lunged, knives flashing. Kia met her mid-air, steel ringing against steel. Caro flung a curse toward Drevok, but the brute shrugged it off, charging like a beast. Chaos erupted. Kael moved through it all like a storm, sword singing, his fury a thing of beauty and horror. He battled not just for revenge, but for the fragile hope that somewhere in this ruin of blood and betrayal, something pure still lived. He fought for Kia’s loyalty. He fought for Caro’s visions. He fought for the ghost of the boy he had once been. And above all, Kael fought for love — fierce, unyielding, and bloodstained. --- Hours later, the Blood Court burned. Screams tore through the night as dark flames licked the stars. Kael stumbled through the wreckage, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Caro was slumped against a pillar, unconscious but alive. Kia knelt beside him, binding his wounds with steady hands. From the shadows, Veyrith’s broken form crawled forward. Half his face was scorched away, revealing the monster beneath the mask. "You cannot kill what you are," Veyrith rasped. "You are darkness, Kael. You are desire." Kael stood over him, sword poised. "I am more than what you made me," Kael whispered — and drove the blade through Veyrith’s heart. The ground trembled. A howl split the air, the death cry of something ancient and evil. It was over. For now. --- Later, as dawn painted the sky in bruised shades of gold and crimson, Kael found Kia standing alone on a balcony overlooking the burning city. He joined her silently, their shoulders brushing. "You chose," she said without looking at him. "Love over power." Kael’s smile was weary, but real. "It was never a choice." Kia turned to him then, eyes dark and luminous. For a moment, the world held its breath. And when she kissed him, it tasted of ash, blood, and the promise of a new, terrible beginning. The morning after the battle was not silent — it moaned. Wind dragged the scent of ash and burnt magic through the ruined streets of Velmoria. The sky, bruised and heavy, offered no mercy. Kael stood at the edge of the balcony, the broken city stretching before him like a dying animal. His black cloak snapped in the cold wind, and beneath it, old scars ached alongside new wounds. Behind him, Kia stirred. She wore a simple black tunic now, her dark hair loose, her blades sheathed — but Kael could still see the fire in her. Last night’s kiss still burned on his lips, a brand he couldn't wipe away even if he wanted to. "You shouldn't be out here," Kia said softly, stepping beside him. "You’re bleeding." Kael didn’t move. "It’s nothing." Kia gave a humorless laugh. "It’s never nothing with you." She reached out — tentative at first — and pressed her fingers lightly against his torn side. Blood welled beneath her touch. "You’re stubborn," she whispered. Kael caught her hand in his. Their eyes locked, something ancient and dangerous crackling between them. "You kissed me," he said, voice low and rough. "You needed it," Kia said, withdrawing her hand — but not fast enough to hide the tremble. "I need more than a kiss, Kia." The raw honesty in his voice stripped the air between them bare. But before either could speak again, a sharp, broken sound rang out through the hallways — a cry. Caro. Kael and Kia moved instantly, the bond between them a thread of urgency and dread. They found Caro thrashing on the floor of the ruined sanctuary, his body arched unnaturally, eyes wide and silver-bright with visions. Kael dropped to his knees, grabbing Caro’s shoulders. “Caro! Breathe!” Caro’s mouth moved, forming broken words: "The heart… the bloodstone… he wakes..." Kia paled. "He? Who is he talking about?" But deep down, Kael already knew. The Firstborn. The oldest of their kind. The father of all blood curses. A monster sealed away centuries ago — until now. And Veyrith's death had weakened the seals. The war wasn’t over. It had only just begun. --- Later, after Caro slipped into a restless sleep, Kael sat alone in the great hall, nursing a goblet of black wine — bitter and thick as regret. Kia approached, silent as a ghost. "Tell me," she said. "Tell me what you know about the Firstborn." Kael’s jaw tightened. "He was the first vampire," Kael said slowly. "The first hunger. The first betrayal." Kia’s eyes narrowed. "And?" "And he is bound by blood — but blood can break chains as easily as forge them." Kael’s gaze grew distant. "If he rises... there will be no thrones left to fight over. Only graves." Silence stretched between them. "Then we stop it," Kia said simply. Kael smiled bitterly. "You speak as if it’s easy." "You forget," Kia said, stepping closer, "who you are." She traced a line down his chest with one gloved finger. "You are Kael Blackthorn. Bloodbane. Slayer of Kings. Betrayer of the old gods." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And you are mine." Kael caught her hand, pulling her against him. "And you," he murmured, "are the only thing left worth saving." Their kiss this time was no accident — no desperate comfort. It was fire and ruin and promise. It was blood and desire, tangled so tightly that neither could tell where the hunger ended and the love began. And when they finally parted, breathless and broken and whole all at once, Kael whispered: "Ride with me into hell, Kia." She smiled, fierce and beautiful. "Always." --- Far below the ruins, unseen by any eye, something stirred. A heartbeat. Slow. Powerful. Awakening. And from the shadows, a voice whispered across the world: "My children have forgotten me. Let me remind them what it means to hunger." The true nightmare had yet to begin. The earth cracked. The night howled. And deep beneath the ashes of Velmoria, something ancient clawed its way free. --- Kael, Kia, and Caro rode hard across the dying lands, the skeletal trees whipping past them like broken sentinels. The cold wasn't natural — it bit deeper, gnawed at the soul. "Faster!" Kael urged, black cloak flying behind him. Beside him, Kia pushed her horse harder, her eyes burning with determination. Behind them, Caro clung to his mount, his visions tearing at his mind. They were heading for the only place left with answers: The ruined temple of Nytheris, where blood was born and betrayed. The wind whispered as they rode — broken voices from the past. "Run, little ones. Run before the darkness drinks you dry." --- The Temple of Nytheris was nothing but a shattered husk now — a crown of marble teeth jutting from the dead earth. But magic still bled from its stones, old and angry. Kael dismounted first, sword already drawn. Kia touched his arm lightly. "We don't know what waits