Page 16 of Demon Seed
"Everyone knows nothing!" I hiss, my words slicing through the air like a whip. "What happened between Vesper and me was my choice. Mine. He’s my mate, the other half of my soul."
Naia’s eyes widen with fear and incomprehension as she stares at me, unable to grasp the depth of my feelings. Overwhelmed and frightened by a fury she's never seen, Naia turns and flees the room, locking the door behind her with a loud click.
My family doesn't understand. They only see the dark taint of his demon blood, not the profound way his soul resonates with mine, like two halves finally complete.
I close my eyes and delve into the depths of our bond, searching for him amidst the enveloping shadows. The faintest whisper echoes back to me—a potent blend of determination, fury, and love. He hasn't surrendered, and neither will I.
The towering mountains of the Divine Peaks, ancient and unyielding, have stood as silent sentinels for millennia, but they won't stand between us much longer. Tonight, under the cloak of darkness, I'll carve a path to him, even if it means tearing this place apart with my bare hands, ripping through stone and earth to reach the one my heart calls home.
Vesper
Istand at the edge of the clearing, my eyes fixed on Amara Bloodworth, reigning Queen of Ravenwood and the youngest daughter of Queen Isolde. She moves with an almost otherworldly grace, tracing her delicate fingers along the invisible barrier. Her eyes, a striking emerald green that mirrors her mother’s, are narrowed in deep concentration, reflecting the determination and power within her. The wind howls around us, a force that carries the crisp scent of pine mingled with a hint of magic.
“Is it working?” Morrigan’s voice reaches me, barely a whisper against the symphony of rustling leaves.
“It is,” Amara replies, her gaze fixed intently on the seemingly empty void before her. Her husband, King Atilla, looms behind her, muscles tense and ready, adopting a protective stance to shield her from any lurking danger. It’s an unnecessary effort. Amara, born a witch and transformed into a vampire through marriage, is among the most formidable entities in the Otherworld, her power radiating from her in palpable waves.
“It’s my mother’s spell—a masterpiece really,” Amara forcefully presses her palm against the invisible barrier, and theair erupts in a violent ripple, like shattering glass colliding with the surface of still water. “And deadly in the wrong hands,” she adds, her voice laced with a chilling confidence.
I shift my weight, feeling the crushing pressure of everything hinged on this single moment. The Divine Peaks tower above us, their snowcapped summits piercing the heavens and vanishing into the clouds.
Fortunately, I’m not alone in my quest. I command a fierce legion of demons and vampires, and bringing up the rear, a relentless pack of Lycans, ready to unleash their fury.
“The spell demands royal blood,” Amara declares, spinning around to face us with a grave expression. Yet, in her eyes burns a fierce determination, a fiery resolve that reminds me precisely why we sought her out. “Not just any royal blood. Hers. Or mine.”
Morrigan strides forward, her voice laden with urgency. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You could unleash the fury of all nymphs upon yourself and your family.”
“They’ve made their choice.” Amara yanks a small silver dagger from her belt. “I refuse to stand idly by while mates are cruelly torn apart. This chaos must end now.
I watch, transfixed, as she slices the blade across her palm without a flicker of hesitation. Blood surges forth, vivid and stark against her pale skin, and the atmosphere around us shifts violently—charged with a crackling tension, electric with anticipation.
“Get back!” she commands with a stern voice that brooks no argument, pressing her bleeding hand against the barrier once more. “And remember, you will feel the heat, but do not fear the flames. They cannot harm you.”
The effect is instant and explosive. The air rends violently, splitting open like a jagged wound, unveiling a narrow path that should be impossible. Beyond it, my eyes capture flames risingabove the gleaming white walls of the palace, just a magical illusion meant to distract them.
“We have until their sunset,” Amara’s voice tenses as urgency crackles in the air like electricity. “After that, the blood magic dissipates, and we’ll be trapped on whichever side of the barrier we stand.”
I lock eyes with Morrigan. We’ve journeyed through too many trials to even consider turning back now.
“Then we’d better move quickly."
As we approach the silver gates, guards scatter across the cobblestone courtyard, their urgent shouts echoing through the night as they chase phantom fires that flicker only in their minds. The brilliance of Amara's illusionary work is even better than I anticipated, casting shadows and confusion throughout the stronghold.
I press myself against the cool, rough surface of the outer wall, my heart beating in rhythm with the seconds I carefully count between the guards' patrol rotations. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five… now. I spring forward, my body low and agile, my boots making no sound against the worn cobblestones as I slip through the darkness.
"Vesper?" Selene’s gentle, familiar voice whispers in my mind, a soothing balm amidst the tension. “Is that you?”
"It’s me, my love," I breathe aloud, the words escaping softly into the night air, inadvertently catching Morrigan’s attention with their tender tone.
“Skip the endearments, Vesper. Ask her location,” Morrigan interjects sharply, reminding me of the mission's urgency.
"Where are you?”
“I’m at the top of the north tower, behind a sealed door.” Selene’s voice trembles with fear, each word a tremor that spurs me into action as I sprint toward the north side of the palace.
“I’m coming, Selene.”
Vesper
