Taking His Hand

To seal the Forbidden Boundary, the noble blood of the Seven Immortal Original Vampires were required. Each Original Vampire lent their blood to seal each of the seven gates. And with it, the magic of the Forbidden Boundary was firmly put in place.

**Arrival—Edgar Hopp**

Ember waited for him to steal her soul knowing fully well that in his eyes, she had committed a grievous sin by daring to approach and feed him her blood in the first place. But he didn't seem like the kind of god who belonged to the world of the dead so what was he doing there in the underworld?

Not only him for it seemed the monsters had followed her to the underworld as well. And they made the mistake of blocking his way. The scene was as horrifying as it was comical for it was clear that the god was a nightmare himself—the kind that stalked monsters.

Lightning fast, he slammed his free hand in the chest of a Glacier Orc, taking out its heart and tossing it away distastefully. Before the frozen body of the petrified orc could crumble to the ground, he pulled down a Frost Drake by the wing, slamming its head against the ground and then tossing it into the molten fire behind him like it weighed as much as air.

Throughout it all, he never used the hand that gripped his dagger. Almost like it was insulting to dare use the dagger on those mere creatures. And he seemed attached to the weapon. In a way that was maddening and borderline obsessive.

Ember couldn't help but smile at the violent display. This was what true strength looked like. This was how it looked to not be a powerless one.

This man had power. He was born with it. Probably existed with it since time immemorial.

He was nothing like her, the witch who possessed no Velth.

The same swift fate met the remaining one Orc and Drake that approached him to exert vengeance on behalf of their fallen brothers whom he had taken down so easily. In less than a second, he had them all down and his clothes remained unstained save for the blood that clung to it before.

He finally reached her where she was still sprawled on the floor. He stared down at her, his face tilted to the side as if he was contemplating what to do with her.

He sighed, actually sighed. Then he leaned down, bringing their heights a bit closer.

Before, his eyes had been shut so Ember hadn't been opportune to see what it looked like. But now that she saw them—the otherworldliness etched to the pale silver given life—it caused her eyes to widen with awe.

Those eyes were like something that didn't exist in the world. And they scorched her like they scorned her for daring to exist in the first place.

Was this man truly a vampire? He might have the traits of a vampire, but Ember had seen enough of them to know none of them came close to possessing the air of superiority this man possessed.

Maybe he was among the Pure Aristocrats—the royalty council that ruled over the Vampire Species. But even that seemed far-fetched a bit. This man might look like he was in the middle of his twenties, but Ember could feel he had long existed before then.

Existed way before then to be one of the Pure Aristocrats whose age ranged between two thousand and less.

That left only one option of who he truly was—an impossible option….

"Let's see," he said, his words rolling off with careless authority. "You're smiling. There's that strange glow in your eyes. And having seen much of this world, I'd say you look… suicidal." He added the last word like it took him a moment to recall it.

Suicidal? Maybe that's how she looked. Who would want to live after that night. Thinking of Freya was even more depressing than the thought of how her mother and her coven had treated her all her life. 

She didn't want to live, and she supposed she was in fact in the underworld but from the way he spoke, it seemed that was not quite true. Maybe she was still hanging between the two worlds and not dead yet. Yet she could swear that for a moment when she towed the darkness, she had ceased to breathe….

….that was until he saw him again. It was so strange. Did he drag her from the abyss?

"So, you've no will to live?" he said, voice like ice. "That changes everything. I've no interest in saving someone intent on dying—it's a waste of…resources."

Resources?

Ember smiled up at him. "You do not need to repay me for saving your life."

He arched a brow at her. "Whoever filled your head with that nonsense? Saved my life?" A dark chuckle escaped him, as if she'd told the most absurd joke. "Little thing, you overestimate yourself—just like you do that foul-tasting blood of yours."

Little thing? Did he just call her… a thing? And what did he refer her blood to?

Ember scoffed silently, staring at him with her jaw slightly dropped open. An act that caused the throbbing on her head to hurt.

She was aware no one did favors in their world, much less the kind of man that stood before him. "So if that's not the reason, why are you attempting to save me?" She asked but he didn't answer.

Instead, he rose to his full height, his expression a mask of boredom. Stretching his free hand to her, he said. "Take my hand if you're willing to live as something far better than your current, quite pathetic existence. However, if you're hell bent on remaining suicidal, then burn as your people have burnt."

Ember's expression turned dark, and she clenched the only good hand of hers. 

"Can you… can you save my sister instead?" She said, "she's just a baby and she must be somewhere close."

His expression turned thunderous like he absolutely detested the idea of her ordering him. He was obviously not one to be ordered so she rushed to correct herself. 

"Please save my sister instead," she pleaded, "so long as she is fine, then I do not mind death."

The hand he extended to her never dropped even as the space between his brows marred in exasperation. "You haven't looked around you. But in case the truth still escapes you, allow me to spell it out—you're the only soul unfortunate enough to survive this night. Your sister? By now she's nothing but dust feeding the soil. And while we are still on the topic of death, are you taking my hand or not?"

Ember blinked once, and then twice. The molten fire behind him still existed, but save for that she hadn't taken actual notice of her surroundings yet. Twisting her head to the side and ignoring the way it burned and hurt to the point tears tinged her eyes, she finally saw what he spoke of.

The Palace of the Azure Witches which stood tall just a moment ago despite being engulfed in flames was now mere ruins of building materials stuck to the ground. Around her, the witches who had been taken down by the monsters had long turned to ashes, their forms unrecognizable.

That was impossible! Just a moment ago the Palace stood tall! And the bodies around her were whole even though dead. Why had it seemed that so much time had passed? And how was it that she remained unscathed in the middle of the ruins?!

Where was the Knight of Debts? And where were the six other covens that made up the Witch Ruling Council.

"Have you made a decision yet?" He snapped impatiently, seemingly ignorant to the overwhelming grief that had engulfed her. Tears pricked her eyes, then rolled down mercilessly staining her cheeks with wetness.

She felt the heat of her coven's ruins against her skin—yet none had apparently touched her.

He had given her a choice; die, or not die. In the face of her new discovery, it was no longer a choice. She didn't possess the shame to meet her sister whom she failed in the underworld.

But she still needed to confirm the truth. She still needed to understand what happened between the moment she closed her eyes, waiting for death, and the moment she opened her eyes only to behold this mysterious man… god, whatever he was.

So with great effort, she lifted her one good arm, gritting in pain as fire burned through her shoulders. Then she placed her hand in his freezing ones that possessed a cold that extinguished every hotness and discomfort she felt. It filled her with dread instead—like she had just taken the hands of a greater monster.