Page 32 of Revenant

“Oh, please, at least I’m acting like myself. You on the other hand…when did you get so chivalrous?”

Before we can argue any further, the door swings open again. I’m half expecting to see Eryx, fashionably late and all that. Instead, Pryce steps in, promptly shutting the door behind him, and immediately—like a dog with a bone—sniffs out Alicent’s presence instantly. “What the fuck?” His eyes blaze in our direction. Noting that Bas and E are still perfectly clothed, and it’s just me who is no longer wearing a shirt.

“Don’t look at me,” Elias comments first, holding both hands up in surrender.

Bastian, being the smartass he is, continues to act as if there isn’t an issue. “You told me to get her here. So I did. I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you.”

I can feel the rage festering in Pryce, the fight he so desperately craves clawing at the wall he puts up to protect Alicent.

That’s where he and Eryx differ. They both have the hearts of a leader, but where Pryce measures every step against what others think, Eryx couldn’t give two bloody fucks. That’s what sets them apart. Eryx will take the risks no one else will. It’s why we’re here—he’s the reason The Hollowed exists.

I ignore the odd look Eryx throws my way when he finally arrives. I’m sure he’d love to comment, but he jumps straight in, pretending Alicent isn’t in the room. He can pretend all he wants—none of us are fooled. Her presence is impossible to ignore.

After unbinding their hands, Eryx removes the girls’ hoods one by one, unveiling each witch destined for The Hollowed. When he reaches Alicent, he pauses, hand hovering inches above her head, it’s like he’s trying to hold back inevitability itself. Shield her, protect her—or himself—but we all knew the truth the second she arrived. She’s the key to the freedom we’ve been chasing for centuries.

None of us want to admit it.

Some of us still can’t.

Eryx’s eyes lock with mine and I can feel the tension. Bastian shifts, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Elias leans against the table, an effortless mask of indifference, but I know better—he’s the one who will care the most. All the while, Pryce’s emotions war beside me. If I were a better man, I’d help put his conflict to rest.

Then, Eryx moves, fluid and precise, a single motion that makes Alicent’s hood vanish in an instant, leaving her fingers frozen mid pick. Her wide, vulnerable doe eyes sweep the room before settling on each of us in a sequence that burns itself into my mind.

First Bastian, where shock twists across her face as if she couldn’t believe he had brought her into the lion’s den. Then Elias, where guilt floods her expression in a way that is almost painful to witness, her eyes searching his as if to beg forgiveness silently. As Eryx places himself next to his brother, her eyes narrow, regret morphing slowly into disdain, a fire igniting behind them revealing how much she feels and just how little she has control over it.

And then Pryce…and I find myself holding my breath because it’s not what I was expecting—hurt, almost fragile, a piece missing from a puzzle I hadn’t realized was there until this very moment. Finally, her gaze sweeps over to me, stopping at the tattoo etched along my side, and I feel it, every pulse, every tremor, every flicker of her emotion. As if she’s reaching inside me without a single touch, twisting my restraint into a desperate awareness. I turn, grabbing a drink from the table, and force it down in one brutal swallow. It does nothing for the fire now burning through me. Despite knowing full well that it is impossible to contain, that her presence alone is enough to shatter the fragile illusion of control I have been clinging to since she arrived.

I never lose control—not truly, not when it matters—but something about this moment fractures that certainty, sending desperation curling low in my stomach. A hand lands on my shoulder, acting as an anchor in waters I don’t recognize, and before I can turn to see who it belongs to, Eryx’s voice booms through the room with a commanding force.

“Listen up.”

The single statement is enough to still a whisper, and I feel the shift ripple outward as attention snaps to him, to the authority he wields so effortlessly. “Your blood verification results have come in, and you lot are amongst the most powerful covens to be admitted to Veilcrest. Welcome to The Hollowed.”

I don’t have to look to know his gaze is locked on Alicent. He hated this part of the plan—said she should be kept as far away from it as possible. She knows nothing. But his disapproval doesn’t matter. No one else has been able to come close to breaking our curse. She’s the only one who can, whether she realizes it or not. It has to be her.

His speeches get shorter every year. It’s inevitable—there’s always a handful who show up with no idea what it means to stand in this room; this year there’s only one.

Eryx steps forward, hands clasped behind his back, gaze sweeping over the five girls like he’s assessing livestock. “You’re here because your blood says you belong here,” he begins. “For centuries, the strongest covens have sent their own to Veilcrest, to keep the most powerful exactly where they are—the top.”

Alicent stiffens, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like bullshit.

Eryx hears it. We all do. His head tilts, slow and predatory, but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet.

“Most of you anticipated this much. The prestige,” he continues. “But such gifts are never free. For our knowledge, we ask a single favor in return. Attempt to help us break our curse.”

Alicent cracks. “Witches aren’t real. Curses aren’t real.”

Eryx laughs. Actually laughs. It’s humorless and cold enough to freeze thin air.

“Little wraith,” he says, stepping closer, “you’re standing in a room with five vampires. If you’re going to deny reality, at least pick a different room.”

Elias sighs. “Here we go.”

Pryce doesn’t so much as blink, his attention welded to Alicent, protective fury radiating off him.

Alicent unravels in front of us—fear, shock, denial, all bleeding into the air like a scent. It slams into me, overwhelmingly intoxicating.

“You will train your magic,” Eryx continues. “Learn control and discipline. And you will learn what your bloodline owes us.”