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My heart sank.

One man. One mistake. This much damage.

Even the Queen, cruel as she was, hadn't set her kingdom on fire. This was different. Reckless. Vicious. If Mark hadn’t meant to, if it truly was an accident, it didn’t erase the truth. He still did it. He knew the rules before he ever laid eyes on Alexander again. I’d made sure Arianna explained everything to him the moment he arrived. But if he aspired to be negligent, then he aspired to have a very short existence in this life.

The forest blurred around us, trees flashing past as the horse pulled us through winding paths. Even on the trail, the road was rugged and choppy, mounds of fresh snow making the wheels jolt and creak. The further east we traveled, the cleaner the air became.

As midnight deepened, the forest stirred awake. Wildlife rustled through the underbrush, brushing against brittle branches, scurrying over ice and sleet. Hidden by thick snow, they still made themselves known, chirps, rustles, soft growls, distant screeches echoing through the trees.

My thoughts drifted to Alexander, wondering how he would experience his first true moon. He was still caught in that upside-down human sleep cycle, awake during the day, exhausted at night. His body hadn’t fully adapted yet, and each evening was a fight to adjust to our rhythm. But he’d love this. The quiet wilderness. The pulse of the forest. The magic in its shadows. Maybe I’d even introduce him to a derward. He’d be fascinated by them. They resembled deer in shape, but instead of soft fur and gentle eyes, their skulls were bare, hollow black pits where sight should’ve been. Four colossal antlers arched above their heads, glowing with a faint, eerie bioluminescence.

Haunting. Beautiful. Otherworldly.

Just like this realm.

Just like him.

“Why are fires any different from falling down thirty feet? We’re immortal… aren’t we?” Martha asked, her curiosity bubbling beneath her tone. Her arm tightened around mine, pulling my focus back to her. I smiled gently.

“For vampires,” I began, “burns don’t heal the way other wounds do. They scar, permanently. When I was in the human realm, a werewolf tore a hole from my neck to above my hip bone. Painful, yes, but it healed within hours. Good as new.” I paused. “But if I walked into those flames. I would die. Fire doesn’t just hurt us. It stays with us. One burn can leave a mark forever. That goes for all of us.”

Her lips parted slightly, soft haze green eyes shimmering with worry. “So what he did… it could really hurt a lot of people?” she asked, voice dipping into something small and sad.

Nodding I replied, “I hope it doesn’t come to that. But people are stubborn. And they love a reason to wander toward danger, especially if it distracts them from their own lives. I wouldn’t put it past a few to get too close.” I exhaled, giving her a thoughtful look. “Thankfully, guards have been posted. That should keep the willfully senseless at bay.”

My hand rested atop the place where hers held tight, a quiet comfort exchanged in the cold. Martha’s expression was thoughtful; her eyes swam with quiet frustrations, her lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line.

She glanced between the two of us and sighed. “I hope his indiscretions haven’t made you both feel impartial toward me.” Her free hand reached instinctively toward Arianna’s thigh. Ari’s eye caught her sharply, stopping her mid-air. The warning was silent, unmistakable: don’t test me. Martha let it fall back to her lap with a soft chuckle, unoffended.

“I won’t place a man’s shortcomings on a woman,” I assured her. “He’s his own person, so I hold no ill will toward you, Martha. But I am curious. What’s your surname?” She had been nothing but kind from the moment I’d met her. Blaming her for what Mark caused would’ve been cruel, senseless. Anyone who held unkindness toward her would be truly heartless.

“Moore,” she answered instantly, the name rolling off her tongue with reverence. “Martha Moore. Before marriage, it was Martha Cunningham. But Moore… Moore felt more maternal. Like I was stepping into the role of mother with it.”

“Both are very suiting,” I grinned, meaning every word. Cunningham carried a regal weight, elegant, old-blooded, matching the quiet majesty she held beneath her gentle exterior. And Moore… Moore was fuller, warmer, a name that blossomed with softness and affection. It matched the roundness of her cheeks, the tender curve in her smile, and the quiet, moonlit gentleness that lived in her eyes.

Another silence settled around us as we continued to canter along the trail. The land curved ahead, the trees folding in around us in thick, snowy layers. Their branches arched overhead, heavy with frost, forming a natural tunnel that swallowed us whole. Snow fell gently from their bristled limbs, scattering softly along our path.

Bushy-tailed critters darted across the branches above, their eyes glowing an iridescent green as they peeked from the shadows. Their light shimmered like tiny lanterns woven into the forest itself, ethereal, otherworldly.

In contrast, the sky above us was a canvas of violet and deep orange, streaked dramatically beneath Eari’s twin moons. They shadowed our path in a rush of color. Ranus blazed brighter, hotter than her smaller sister, Tailus. The heavens glittered in the stars, scattered around us like salt across midnight.

Even Andre’s River grew louder the closer we drew. It clattered over stones and boulders, its watery voice climbing through the trees. The crisp scent of fresh water drifted toward us, battling the heavy cedar rot that still lingered. Inhaling deep, the river’s aroma swept through my lungs like a balm, cleansing away what the fire had tainted.

It had been so long since I’d visited Ameega. Once the Elguto began settling in its depths, my father deemed it unsafe. Looking back, I wonder now if fear was only part of it. Perhaps he also feared dilution, viewing the made vampires as lesser. Diluted. Impure. Only a step above a filthy human, he once said. Even though we ourselves descended from humanity, they were treated as little more than a meal. A snack. Not someone worth speaking to. But as I glanced at Martha from the corner of my eye, I felt a pinch of shame. Her warmth, her softness, her curiosity, they were anything but beastly. If anything, she was… disarming. Gentle. Almost childlike in the way she approached the world.

Had I been wrong to distance myself from the minority?

I prided myself on never being ignorant, never being complacent. And when Alexander asked if hatred still lingered in the kingdom, I’d given him what I thought was the truth. But how could I speak on injustices I’d never witnessed? I had never been forced to see the world from their side. Yet this woman, this mother, was beginning to unravel everything I thought I knew. My voice finally broke the hush between us. “I do wonder about you, Mrs. Moore,” I said softly. “Why didn’t you turn when your husband did?”

Martha’s expression was gentle as she looked ahead. One hand rose to her chest, as though steadying something fragile inside her. “That was one of my easier choices,” she said. “I wasn’t ready for the life Mark was pursuing. I wanted answers just as much as he did… but not if it meant leaving Alex. Not even for a moment.” Her gaze drifted toward the snowy trail ahead, her voice dropping to a wind-carried murmur. “Mark wanted me to come with him when he finally found the truth. But I couldn’t leave my baby behind to fend for himself. I even tried to convince Mark that what he was doing was dangerous… erratic. But he was convinced this was the only way to protect Alex from Draco.”

Her voice dipped further, almost a whisper. “I told him to go, to do whatever he needed. The first few times he visited that friend of his, he came back buzzing with excitement, like he’d been promised the world. And then came the lie… the cancer.” Snow crunched beneath the carriage wheels as she exhaled, eyes dark with memory. “It was all part of his plan,” she said quietly. “To gain more information. To ease his way into this realm. To become a vampire.” Martha’s head tilted as she continued, “I was just relieved he’d stopped pressuring me to go with him. So when he asked me to go alone… I let him. I didn’t know what was truly going through his mind.”

From what she described, it seemed Mark had always been a man led by his own impulses, perhaps even selfish ones. My father had never once failed to consider me, but I suppose, in his own twisted way, Mark had too. I should have told my father about him. But I had been too consumed by the mission of bringing Alexander back, and I foolishly let it slip through the cracks. “Well… that was noble of you. Staying behind,” I offered gently.

Martha shook her head, brushing the compliment aside with a small smile. “I’m a mother first. Always. I couldn’t leave my boy, not even for a year.” Her words radiated the warmth my own mother’s love held in my dreams. A heat that wrapped around the ribs and made the chest swell. In my fantasies, my mother would have worn that same devotion. That same bravery to stay. To choose her child over everything else.

My chest tightened with the thought. What would she look like now? Would she be sitting beside me, the way Martha sat now? Would her voice defend me the way Martha’s defended Alex, without blood or bond, just pure love? Even without blood tying them together, Martha’s devotion bled through every word she spoke. A bond chosen. A bond tended. A bond that lived. “He’s lucky to have you,” I whispered, sincerity coating every syllable.