Chapter 8 / It’s awake

April 3rd, 15.001.  

Border between Velanth and Bloodspire, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The road grew quieter the closer they came to the borderlands. Trees thinned, the ground turned stony, and the wind that whipped through the passes carried the scent of frost and iron. None of them spoke much. Their bodies still bore fresh aches.

By the time the lanterns of the hostel appeared, a squat stone building pressed against the cliffs like it had grown from the mountain itself. The group looked like a pack of ghosts stumbling home.

Sukira pushed through the door first, her voice sharp and certain as she greeted the innkeeper in the lilting dialect of the border. Recognition lit the woman’s face; she embraced Sukira roughly, then ushered the party inside with hurried warmth.

The air smelled of alcohol and bitter herbs. Dimmed lights flickered in niches carved into the walls. At long tables, a few patrons lifted their heads—eyes pale red and some silver hairs, fangs small but unmistakable. Halves. Vamp-humans. 

Old acquaintances of Sukira’s, as it turned out. They greeted her with the reserved nods of people who had seen battle once, twice, too many times. A round of drinks was poured, and despite their fatigue, the group gathered at a corner table.

It was only after the small talk ebbed that the truth came out.

“The Calamities are awake again,” said one of the halves, a man with streaks of silver in his dark hair, showing clearly a fight of genes happening there. His voice was flat, like he’d repeated it too many times already. “We’ve seen it in the towns. Fights are breaking out between neighbors. People killing without reason, without memory. Same signs as before. The era of the Calamities happened before; it's coming back.”

“Do you think it could be the Elexi, again?” Dominique asked the man. 

A stillness settled over the table. Even the fire seemed to crackle softer, cautious.

“Who’s Elexi??”. Risha asked, light and naive, and everyone looked where the child’s voice came from.

“Oh, for the stars and hell itself. You should be sleeping already”. Dominique looked tired. 

Elexi, the Calamity of War, like mortals called it, was not a monster you could stab or banish. It was an old evil, older than borders, a creeping hunger that wormed into thought. The first and most dangerous of all the known Courses. It whispered to leaders first, stoking pride and suspicion until alliances broke. It set faction against faction, continent against continent. And once planted, it spread. Hatred becomes unmanageable, an infection no cure could touch. Hundreds of years ago, Elexi implanted ideas that became a bloody war that brought too many deaths to all the races. 

And it seemed that now it was stirring again.

Elon sat back, the words landing like stones in his chest. Ailin was right, he thought. The world was turning, the same cycle threatening to repeat. This was bigger than any one of them. 

Eloise’s hands twisted in her lap. Dominique’s jaw clenched. Sukira said nothing, only drank deep from her cup and kept her eyes on the flames.

Sukira leaned across the table and tapped Risha’s arm gently. “Bed. Now.”

“But I’m always missing the best parts!” the boy groaned, folding his arms.

“You already heard more than you should,” Eloise said with a half-smile, shepherding him up from his seat. “The rest will still be here in the morning. Come.”

He dragged his feet, muttering under his breath, until they disappeared into the stairwell that led to the hostel’s upper floor. Cloud followed him like a shadow after Sukira’s command. 

As the silence settled again, one of Sukira’s acquaintances—a broad-shouldered woman with scarred knuckles and ash-red eyes—leaned closer, her gaze fixed on Elon.

“You stink of Vlad.”

Elon stiffened, the words slicing sharper than any blade. He could almost feel the phantom ache where the brand had been burned away.

“Would you like to tell me more about this vampire?” he asked tightly.

“There’s no need for that,” Sukira cut in at once.

Elon’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a teacher catching a lie. “He tried to kill me. He’s hunting Risha. I believe there is more than a need for that.”

The woman’s lip curled into something not quite a smile. “I would be delighted.”

She leaned forward, her voice low and steady. “He was born a vampire, but he’s lived so long, twisted so deep into black magic, that he is closer to a demon than a man. A magician of the oldest kind. That’s why he commands shadows and can summon devils and bind them to his will. Vlad is no mere predator; he’s a herald. Wherever the Calamities rise, he walks with them.”

The half-silver-haired man at the table added, “A herald, yes, that’s the perfect word to describe him. When a Course spreads, when neighbors butcher neighbors, when leaders fall to madness, you’ll find him there. We used to tell our children: if you ever see Vlad smile, it means a Calamity is already in your home.”

A nervous hush fell, the kind reserved for campfire legends. No one could say how much was truth and how much was mere exaggeration. But in Umbra, stories had teeth.

The fire snapped, sparks scattering like whispers.

Elon’s throat tightened. Ailin’s warning rose in his mind again, sharper now: This is bigger than all of us.

Sukira said nothing, but her jaw worked as though she were grinding her teeth.

Dominique, however, lifted her cup, eyes glinting. “Suki’s always had a bad taste in men,” she teased, letting the jab hang in the air. 

Sukira shot her a glare sharp enough to cut stone, but Dominique only smirked, then set the cup down. Her tone shifted, softer, almost too calm. “Can you send an extra-continental message from here?”

The innkeeper blinked, then nodded, as though she had expected the question. With a quiet gesture, she pulled back a curtain behind the counter, revealing a panel of polished obsidian glass studded with faintly glowing runes.

In Umbra, technology and sorcery had long since become inseparable. Spell-weave transmitters were called devices that bent ley lines into conduits of communication. Officially, they existed for trade records and border reports, but anyone with the right sigils and coin could send personal letters, encrypted and delivered near-instantly. 

Dominique stood, dusting her hands as though shaking off the weight of the conversation. “As much as I’d love to keep talking shit about Vlad,” she said dryly, “you’ll have to excuse me.”

She exhaled slowly, then pulled the curtain closed.

Subject: Urgent

It’s awake.

Rumors spreading through Umbra border towns.

Cycle confirmed.

Move forward with Protocol X04 immediately.

No contact till meet.

She returned to the table as though nothing had happened, her expression schooled into a mask.

♥︎