A House Divided

I woke to find the grate above me ajar. The same slat of iron that kept me trapped in the pit this time for gods knows how long. A hand reached down and through the opening. Not just any hand. His hand. One I knew too well to mistake.

My mentor.

I squinted up and into the light. "Where the hell have you been?" I grumbled, rubbing the sleep from one eye while my stomach protested with a growl.

I stared into space for ten seconds, waiting for his answer.

"Looking for the entrance that leads to the mural," he replied, his voice as calm as ever.

"For weeks? And in daylight?"

He crossed his arms, a cross look appearing on his face. "Would you prefer I skulk around at dusk whenever a sentry in the clan glides through the halls?"

"I wasn't aware you had that gift."

"And here I thought you knew everything."

"I know what pertains to me. Mostly." I waved a hand in dismissal. "Let's not label anything today. Let's see where the evidence leads."

We climbed from the pit and veered into another passage carved into the wall behind the cell. It was narrow and ancient. Older than the foundation stones of the clan's compound.

Every inch of the tunnel was etched with dust-covered symbols, as though the stones themselves told a story. I walked with my fingers touching them, catching words as I went.

The deeper we went, the heavier the air grew. It was thick with the weight of an old, holy power. It pressed against my bones, like a presence watching from just beyond the veil.

The vamp-angel. Angel-vamp. Whatever my mentor truly was, moved ahead of me without pause, glancing over his shoulder now and again to ensure I was keeping pace. Or spontaneously reduced to a pile of ash.

"You said the sigils only respond to the descendants' blood," I murmured. "But they didn't respond to you.

"I'm not of your sort," he answered without looking back. "I protected your bloodline."

A haunted look appeared in his eyes. "You must be wondering how we failed. I now know how. But not here. When it's needed, I'll tell you."

I nodded, my gaze shifting to the corridor ahead where the glowing sigils lit our path in soft pulses. Even the ones we passed seemed to pulse faintly, like old eyes fluttering open. "How did you even find this?"

"Not without quite a bit of backtracking," he chuckled. "It would have been much simpler if I had brought you the first time."

"This place isn't on any clan map." I brushed my hand over an elaborately detailed carving. "Not in the library. Nor tomb ledgers."

"Because it predates the clans. And it's where we failed. I told myself I would never return here." His words settled like a stone in my chest, and I realized what my presence cost him.

We descended a worn spiral staircase carved directly into the rock. Despite the lack of footfall, the steps were smoothed with time.

The air changed. It was warmer now, with a humid breath that clung to the skin. At the bottom, the passage opened into a narrow alcove.

A still pool waited within, tucked like a secret into the heart of the stone. It was clean and clear, and the rocks at the bottom were smooth. I stepped forward, tempted to plunge in, but hesitated. Our eyes met, and I expected him to deny me the slight relief.

"You should bathe. It wouldn't be good to meet your kin in your current state of filth," he said.

Unoffended, I slipped from my rags as he turned his back. The salted tang of the water bit at each of my scrapes and scars, bringing tears to my eyes. It had been so long since I was clean. Truly clean.

This was not some hall of any notable grandeur or reverence. It felt more like a forgotten dwelling. Scorch marks licked the walls, as though someone had once tried to erase its existence.

And yet the mural we searched for remained as though it had burned its way through soot to become visible once more.

Faded and cracked, but intact. It drew me in.

A veiled woman stood at the center, arms outstretched protectively over a swaddled child. Five figures formed a protective ring around her.

Each figure held something. A man with a blade, a woman with a book, a youth bearing a burning brand, an elder holding a mirror, and a wise man with a sealed urn.

I recognized two artifacts—the same blade and book from the chamber where I'd first been taken.

"The children of the one who would stand for light," my mentor said. His voice was low with reverence. "When the light cast the first seal, her power fractured through her bloodline. Each child inherited something of the power. The clans rose from their ashes. Over time, many forgot. Some became twisted-"

"Into vampires," I stepped closer. The figure holding the mirror shimmered faintly as I drew near.

"Which one do you think I am?" I asked quietly.

I am unqualified to say, but the mural may hold a clue. He pointed to the mirrored figure whose outline glowed silver.

I tensed, bracing for a repeat of the trial I had experienced. Or some celestial backlash.

Instead, my skin ignited with ancient ink. The sigils we'd passed were written by an invisible hand, lines glowing across my forearms, legs, and stomach. I bit down a scream, jaw clenched tight against the searing pain.

A low, droning sound vibrated through the floor. The air bent, warping around me.

I wasn't in the alcove any longer.

Golden fire rained above me and across a burning courtyard. I stood veiled in ceremonial armour, the weight of woven chain pressing into my shoulders. My vision blurred through tears of another's life.

Around me, the world was ending.

Shadow things crawled through the firelight. Their forms writhing and formless tore into screaming warriors.

One by one, the others fell. I knew their names—my siblings, my kin. Their blood bathed the temple stones, a sacrifice far too great.

I turned and faced the last unbroken sigil. An unforeseen force battered it.

Behind me, a young child clutched a mirror and wept.

"Go. Hide in the heather," I instructed, raising my hand and driving my sword into the soil. With all my mental strength, I poured my soul into the seal.

It wasn't a thought of victory.

It was grief.

Let them live. Let them forget.

I collapsed back into my body with a cry, the vision releasing me. My mentor caught me before I crumpled to the floor.

"What did you see?"

I described the scene, my throat tight. "The woman sealed it." It seemed like such a plain thing to say. To tell of the sacrifice of giving one's all for the benefit of others, though I knew he understood.

"She instructed the little one with the mirror to run and hide. Like she didn't believe the seal would hold." I struggled to rise, a worried expression upon my face.

"I don't think we were meant to come here."

Behind us, the mural split with a sudden crack, a hairline fracture travelling through its entire surface.

Black ichor bled from the seam, and the air whistled with a new chill.