Old Power

I didn't wait.

I clutched the little leather journal to my chest and walked—no, marched—through the manor's dim halls. The candlelight blurred as I moved faster, fueled not just by fear or adrenaline, but by something older.

Rage. Betrayal. Recognition.

I found him exactly where I'd hoped: standing on the edge of the balcony above the moonlit gardens, his figure cloaked in silence.

"I read it," I said, loud enough to echo.

Caden didn't turn. "I assume you mean her journal."

"She was one of me," you snapped. "The last of the bloodline. And you bound her."

Now he turned, slowly, his expression unreadable. "I didn't bind her. She chose it."

My fists clenched. "Did she choose to vanish?"

A muscle flicked in his jaw. "She chose me. And I failed to protect her."

I stepped closer. "You told me I was a mystery. But I'm not. I'm a reminder. I carry what she left behind, don't I? You knew it the moment I arrived."

Caden stared at me, and this time—this time-I saw something shatter behind his eyes. Not guilt. Not remorse.

Memory.

"You have her voice," he said quietly. "The same fire. The same fury when she knew she'd been lied to."

"Then tell me the truth," I demanded. "All of it."

He exhaled, stepping away from the balcony. "She was the first human I ever loved. A witch with blood that remembered the night sky. She didn't fear me. She bound herself to me—not through my mark, but through choice. Will."

My heart pounded. "And what happened?"

"She saw something coming," he said darkly. "A vision. Of a power rising within her bloodline—someone stronger than her. Someone who might shift the balance between mortals and us forever."

I swallowed. "Me."

Caden nodded once. "She died protecting you—before you were even born. And I've been waiting for the blood to return ever since."

My grip tightened on the journal.

"You let me think I was just a girl caught in a vampire's web," you said, voice trembling. "But I was always meant for this. Wasn't I?"

"Yes," he said softly. "And I was meant to protect you from what comes next."

"What comes next?" I asked, heart in my throat.

Caden stepped toward me, slowly, with a reverence that felt like gravity.

"The awakening of a power your bloodline sealed long ago. And once it begins, you won't just remember the past…"He reached up, gently brushing my temple with two fingers.

"…you'll become it."

The night pressed in tighter around me, the garden below breathing with shadows, the candlelit wind brushing my skin like a warning. But I didn't move.

I stood my ground, heart hammering, voice low but firm.

"Don't give me riddles, Caden. Tell me what this power is. What will it do to me?"

Caden's gaze darkened—not cruelly, but with a depth that suggested even he feared the answer.

"You won't be human when it's done," he said. "Not completely."

Your breath caught.

"You won't be a vampire either," he added. "What's inside you… It predates us both. The blood remembers not just her life, but the origin—the one who made the first pact between shadow and flesh."

I shook my head, taking a step back. "You said she was a seer. A witch."

"She was," he said. "But she was also something more. Something was born when the veil between life and death was still thin. A bridge. And now that blood sings through you."

I clutched the journal tighter. "Why me?"

Caden stepped forward slowly, his voice calm but charged. "Because your blood didn't just inherit her power. It inherited her unfinished vow. The binding she made before she died… never completed."

I stared at him. "What vow?"

His eyes locked with yours. "To choose. Between light and shadow. Between becoming a ruler over monsters—or their destroyer."

A beat of silence. Then another. I felt it then—low and coiled in my chest, like a second heartbeat waking up. Something old. Something aware.

"I don't want to rule," I whispered.

"Then you may be forced to destroy," Caden replied. "And when that happens, you'll need to decide what I am to you—ally, enemy, or… something else."

I blinked at him, stunned.

He stepped closer, barely a breath between you now.

"You're not just remembering your past, little flame," he said, eyes flickering with something raw. "You're rewriting your future. And mine."

And finally, for the first time, I saw the flicker of fear behind the vampire's perfect calm.

Not of my power.

But of what he might do to keep me from losing myself to it.

My voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"And if I lose control?" I asked, gaze fixed on his. "What will you do then, Caden? Kill me? Cage me? Use me?"

The flicker in his eyes froze. The question struck something buried deep beneath his centuries of restraint. His mouth opened slightly, as if to speak—but no words came out.

So I pressed. "Tell me the truth. Not the elegant, poetic version. I want to know exactly what you'll do when I'm no longer just a girl you're fascinated by."

Caden's jaw tightened. A storm built quietly in his posture—shoulders straighter, hands curling subtly at his sides. But when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Careful.

"I'll try to stop you."

I flinched. The answer wasn't cruel. It was honest. Too honest.

"If you can," I said, breath shallow.

Caden nodded. "If I can't…" He paused, swallowing what almost sounded like grief. "Then I'll try to bring you back. Even if it breaks me."

I stared at him, searching his face. "And if I go too far?"

His gaze locked with yours—burning now, not with threat, but regret.

"Then I'll end it," he whispered. "Because you would never forgive yourself for what you'd become. And neither would I."

A silence fell. Not empty. Not cold. It ached.

He looked away briefly, then added, "But know this—I have walked through centuries filled with monsters, tyrants, even gods pretending to be men. And none of them ever scared me."

I looked up at him, my throat tight.

"But you do," he finished softly. "Not because of what you might become… but because you might choose to face it alone."

The journal in my hand suddenly felt heavier. Not as a weapon, but as a key.

I realised then: the power inside me wasn't just awakening—it was listening. Waiting to see what kind of ruler its vessel would be.

I realised then: the power inside me wasn't just awakening—it was listening. Waiting to see what kind of ruler its vessel would be.

The pages shimmered faintly beneath my fingers, ink shifting like it was alive, rearranging itself into words I hadn't written. My breath caught as a single sentence pulsed across the page:

"What will you become when the crown is yours?"

My pulse raced. I wasn't wearing a crown—at least not yet. But the magic knew. It always knew. I looked around the empty chamber, cold candlelight licking the stone walls, shadows stretching long and thin like secrets trying to escape.

Something inside me stirred in response. A memory not my own. A battlefield. Blood. Fire. Screams swallowed by power.

I blinked it away.

"No," I whispered aloud, gripping the journal tighter. "I won't be like them."

The power trembled—curious, almost amused.

I could feel it now, curled like smoke in my veins. It didn't want domination. It wanted direction.

And I had a choice: command it… or be consumed.

So I turned the page. And I began to read.