Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

Alexandru

T he cold, freezing air of my bastion's courtyard cuts through my cloak as I watch Ivan strap his broadsword to his back, Nicolai checking the fletching on his arrows, and Marianne's quiver is next to her, already checked and each arrowhead honed. She now sharpens her twin daggers with swift, precise strokes. The frost-covered ground crunches beneath our boots, a reminder of the perilous cruelty this season can bring about. My heart hammers against my chest, each beat a drum of war, echoing the turmoil within.

"General Amanar, we are ready." Ivan's voice breaks through my reverie. "With this new information from one of my spies who risked her life running from the kitchens to us… We know where she's kept."

"The back turret, where we can't reach via the secret passages." At least, I don't think so. There are more than one, but most were blocked during the time of my betrothal to Eleanna. "I didn't think about the long term cells."

"Why would you? There has been peace for a while. And they aren't advertised. Or used very often. My liege, it would be remiss not to remind you how perilous this mission is. To you."

I nod, gripping the hilt of my sword until my knuckles turn white. Eleanna's face haunts me—the last time I saw her, defiant even in defeat. I failed her then, and the acidic tang of guilt mingles with the metallic scent of impending bloodshed.

But love, that treacherous siren, sings louder than any fear, urging me forward. "Noted," I say.

With a final look at my elite warriors, their eyes shining with oaths of loyalty, we mount our horses and gallop into the embrace of a moonless night.

We arrive at the castle under the cover of darkness, the imposing stone walls rising like an accusation before us. The others dismount, silent as night; our plan is a simple, dangerous one—calculated commotion from which I'll carve a path straight to Eleanna.

"Create the diversion. I'll get her out," I command.

"Understood, my liege." Marianne's eyes gleam with a fervor only battle can ignite.

With a roar that shatters the stillness, Ivan leads the charge, Nicolai's arrows finding homes in the throats of sentries before they can sound the alarm. Marianne moves like a wraith, her blades singing a feral lullaby. Their ferocity is a sweltering fire, spreading panic among the enemy ranks.

Blood sprays across stone walls and the snow-packed ground, drenching them in shades of horror. An enemy lunges at me—fangs bared, eyes wild. I sidestep, bringing my sword down in a vicious arc that separates head from body, its thud against the ground barely registering above the commotion of violence.

Ivan's form moves through the melee, a symphony of rage and iron as he cleaves enemies in two, his strength monstrous, his resolve unyielding.

Nicolai stands atop a parapet, loosing arrows with fatal accuracy while Marianne frolics through the carnage, her laughter almost maniacal as she revels in the slaughter. They fight not just as soldiers but as unstoppable forces of nature bound by blood and blade.

Another vampire guard lunges at me. "Die, you bastard!"

"Over my dead fucking body." I snarl, parrying his blow before thrusting my sword through his chest.

He gasps, his life spilling over my hands. I withdraw my blade, leaving him to crumble like a puppet with severed strings.

They come at me in waves, fangs flashing in the dim light, but they're nothing more than whispers against nightfall. As each one falls, their blood is an exhibit of my fury, my love for Eleanna fueling every strike. Their bodies litter the stone floor, a grotesque mosaic of my passage, but there's no time to savor the victory.

"General Amanar, go! We have this!" Nicolai says, another arrow finding its mark.

I take off, Eleanna's name a mantra on my lips.

The diversion holds, the battle rages on—a tempest of blood and fire—and I am the eye, calm and determined at the center of the chaos, my purpose singular: Save Eleanna.

I slip inside the castle, using the chaos as my camouflage. The fight swells with a sharp discord of colliding swords, as if the very air splits with their ferocity, punctuated by guttural cries of pain.

Like a shadow I move through the dark corridors with supernatural silence, listening for the slightest sound. The guards are distracted by the commotion outside, their attention fixed on the spectacle of violence orchestrated by my loyal warriors.

The scent of mold and old blood hangs heavy in the air as I reach the back turret, taking the long way, so as not to be seen. There's an exit from down below the ground floor, part of a storage room. But this time I've that way and another route in mind, just in case the former is blocked.

I climb the stairs to the floor where she's supposedly kept. My heart hammers against my ribs, not from exertion but from the anticipation of what I'll find. When I finally spot the iron door of Eleanna's cell, something primal within me stirs—relief, rage, love, all tangled into one throbbing ebb.

"Eleanna," I breathe, taking down the bar blocking her way out that locks the door and I push it open with a strength born of desperation.

She lies there, chained, her red hair splayed around her like spilled wine on the cold stone floor. There are markings where a bed must have been. How like a cruel cunt like Catarina to take that way.

Eleanna blinks, her eyes, dull blue mirrors of the sky, lock onto mine, and for a moment, time ceases its relentless march.

"Alexandru," she whispers, the sound slashing through my heart.

"Shh, save your strength, my Queen."

I rush to her side, working to unlock the shackles that bind her wrists. My fingers are swift and sure, the metal softly clinking as it falls away. But my heart squeezes, full of worry for her, seeing her so weak and pale—a mere shadow of the fearsome queen she is.

"Damn Catarina and her thirst for power," Eleanna murmurs, her fierce spirit still burning within her despite her weakened state.

"We need to get you out of here." I can't bear the thought of losing her now, not when we've just been reunited again.

With utmost care, I lift her into my arms. She's lighter than I remember, too light. It's wrong, a cruelty that reminds me she is at death's gate. But there's no time to dwell on it—I need to move.

"Can you ride?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

She nods against my chest.

"Then hold on."

We slip unseen from the turret, and the passage is clear. We make it out of the castle undetected. In the courtyard, Ivan, Nicolai, Marianne, and half my garrison fight. Staying low, we make our way through the courtyard and out the gates to where my horse waits, hidden in the dark.

"Get us out of here, fast!" I command the beast once I mount, Eleanna secured before me.

Its hooves strike the ground, each beat kicking up ice and snow in its haste. We charge through the terrain, the sounds of battle fading behind us, replaced by the pounding rhythm of our flight.

"Alexandru," Eleanna sighs, her body pressed tight against mine. "Thank you."

"Save it. Just stay with me, my beloved." I urge the horse faster, the cold winter winds slapping at our faces as we race toward safety, toward hope.

Barely holding on to consciousness, Eleanna's grip slackens. The rise and fall of her chest against mine grow fainter, a softness to her breath chills me more than the biting wind. She's slipping away. "Stay with me, Eleanna." My voice is raw, half command, half plea.

But she doesn't respond as she yields to the poison coursing through her veins.

My fortress looms into view and I press my heels into the flank of my steed, urging it to one final burst of speed. The instant the gates open at our approach, I leap from the still-moving horse, landing with inhuman speed, cradling Eleanna in my arms. I rush inside and lay her body down on a bed. Unsure what to do next, I hover over her, mind racing and pulse pounding.

"Alexandru!" Nadia calls out, her eyes wide with fear as she rushes toward us, a vial clutched in her hands. "I have something that might cure Eleanna. A vial with elder vampire blood. Her father's blood," she says, pushing the vial into my free hand.

I nod, too focused to form words. The liquid inside the vial gleams darkly, an opaque beacon of hope. With each ticking second, I'm aware of the weight of Eleanna's fate in my trembling grip.

Gently, I kneel beside Eleanna on the bed, her skin now ashen, the vibrant red of her hair dull against the pallor of her face. I unstopper the vial with a shaky hand, its contents more precious than any treasure.

"Drink, my love." I bring the vial to her lips. "Come back to me."

Eleanna's throat works feebly as she swallows the powerful vampire's blood.

It's a tense wait, every moment stretched thin with anticipation and dread. Then, a subtle shift—the tremors racking her body begin to ease, her breathing steadies, and a flush of color returns to her cheeks.

"Alexandru? Nadia? Am I…I home?"

My name on her lips sends a thrill through me, even as worry gnaws at my gut. Her voice is weak, but there's a new strength there, a vitality that wasn't present before. Those piercing blue eyes flutter open, now glowing with a burgeoning mystical intensity that steals my breath.

With the poison purged from her veins, Eleanna rises like a noble phoenix from the ashes. Her gaze is fierce, powerful, searing into my very soul. She moves with a sinuous refinement that speaks of enhanced strength and speed beyond anything I've witnessed—even among our own kind.

"Eleanna, my beloved." The words leave me in a reverent exhale, relief and awe warring within me.

Her resilience is fucking astounding, leaving me in stunned admiration. This newfound might of hers is a force to be reckoned with, and I can't help the surge of pride that swells in my chest.

I reach out, needing to touch her, to assure myself this is real. With battle-roughened hands, I cradle her face with a gentleness reserved only for her. Thumb brushing over the delicate arch of her cheekbone, I drink in the sight of her like a man starved.

"You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"

A ghost of a smirk tugs at her lips. "Didn't know you cared so much, Alexandru."

Her voice is raspy, but there's a teasing lilt to it that sets my heart racing.

"Don't be dense, woman. You know how I feel about you." The words are gruff, but my gaze is soft as I examine her face, mapping every beloved feature. "Even when, at times, we both wish I didn't."

She leans into my touch, nuzzling my palm. The simple action is so trusting, so intimate, it makes my chest ache.

"Guess I just like hearing you say it," she murmurs, eyes sparkling with mischief despite her near-death experience.

"Stubborn, infuriating female," I growl, no real heat behind the words. Bending down, I press my forehead to hers, our breaths mingling. "I love you, Eleanna. More than anything in this godforsaken world or the next."

She brings her hand up to fist my hair, tugging me closer. "Show me," she demands, that fire I adore burning bright in her gaze.

And I do. I claim her mouth in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of my love, my fear, my relief into the embrace. She meets me with equal fervor, her lips parting on a sigh. The slide of her tongue against mine is electric, igniting a hunger that goes beyond the physical.

In this moment, all that exists is her—the press of her body against mine, the silk of her hair tangled in my fingers, the intoxicating scent that is pure Eleanna. My cruel Queen, my stubborn mate, my everything.

And I swear to the gods, here and now, that I will burn the world to ash before I let any harm come to her ever again.

The moment is shattered by a clamor outside. I stand swiftly and rush to the window.

The world beyond the glass pane erupts into upheaval.

Nadia gasps, at the window.

I join her, barely registering the icy tendrils of winter as they slither into the room, my focus drawn to the sight below. Catarina's army, like a swarm of malevolent shadows, floods the courtyard. Steel glints beneath the overcast sky, a foreboding omen, as battle cries rend the air.

"Damnation." I instinctively reach for my sword's hilt.

The weapon brings me reassurance; its weight is comforting, familiar.

"Nadia? Alexandru?" Eleanna's voice, laced with concern as she joins us. Then with newfound strength, pulls us back from the window.

Her maid turns. "My Queen…"

"Are you strong enough to fight?" I ask, turning to face her. My eyes lock onto hers with an intensity that conveys the gravity of our situation. "We must defend my home."

"Kick Catarina's ass? Oh, yes, please."

She stands, and there's a mystical glow about her now, her skin radiating with supernatural power as I have never seen, and for a moment, I fear her.

She slowly smiles. "My Sagori weapons, Nadia."

I've seen the Sagori weapons before, at the castle, worn by the king. They hold stories and legends and though they aren't her usual ones, I betting Eleanna wields them like she was born holding them.

Her maidservant hurries to a chest and flings it open, removing beautiful old swords, her father's weapons that bear her family's raven crest. She hands them to Eleanna, who thanks her, and with unnatural speed, she's gone in the blink of an eye.

Damn woman is going to outshine me tonight. Yet I grin, nod at Nadia, and suddenly pause, the smile slipping.

"Nadia? Just in case…make sure the fortress is empty, and those who can't fight have packed the absolute essentials and wait. And…wait with them. They're under your care."

"My liege?"

I take a breath, reaching for the moment of euphoria from Eleanna's sudden unnatural strength. "Do it. If things turn south, I'll know the defenseless are not in here."

With that, I race outside, the sounds of battle growing louder. My muscles coil in anticipation, and my fangs lengthen with the adrenaline. The double doors to the great hall burst open, and I'm met with a torrent of bloodshed.

"Form up." I motion to the handful of warriors who remain, their faces set in grim determination despite the overwhelming odds.

We are few but mighty—each a veteran of countless skirmishes, baptized in blood and fire.

I engage the first wave of invaders. My blade finds its mark again and again, slicing through sinew and bone. Blood, hot and coppery, splatters across my face.

"Death to the usurpers!" Eleanna's sword arcing through the air in blurry, fast whirlwinds.

My weapons clear a path through the enemy ranks. "Fight, you bastards, fight!"

Catarina's sitting in a carriage. She doesn't leave the coach, merely smiles and observes. Bitch.

The battle is underscored by a metallic symphony of the fierce fight. The once serene winter landscape is now marred by the tumult of war.

Eleanna unleashes her supernatural strength on Catarina's relentless army.

Sword in hand, she darts through the battlefield like a phantom, slashing through her enemies with lightning speed. The sight of her bright red hair flowing behind her, her raven crest emblazoned on her armor, makes those who stand against her shrink back.

Beside her, I fight with unmatched ferocity as I cleave through the ranks of our enemies. With every clash, every parry and thrust, I fight, not only for victory but for the woman who has recaptured my heart.

Together, we lead our remaining warriors against overwhelming odds. The battle is brutal and never ending. But with no other choice, we keep leading the charge. Each fallen adversary only encourages our resolve, stoking the fires of vengeance in our hearts.

Eleanna's blue eyes blaze with a mix of fury and determination as she fights tooth and nail against Catarina's forces.

Primal rage pushes adrenaline through me as I clear a path through the enemy ranks. I can taste victory within my grasp, the weight of my sword becoming an extension of my very being.

Catarina, seated in her carriage, has underestimates the sheer ferocity of those who fight for our home. Each fallen comrade only serves to strengthen our resolve, igniting a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

The clang of blades peals out, fusing with the cries of pain and defiance. With every swing of our swords, with every drop of blood spilled, Eleanna and I push forward. The fate of our realm hangs in the balance, but we refuse to surrender.

But somehow, tides turn.

The enemy forces seem endless, relentless. Our own troops are dwindling, being slaughtered.

"Stand firm," I command, parrying a thrust and counterattacking with ruthless efficiency.

My voice is a clarion call amid the dissension, a symbol of hope for my warriors to rally around.

"General!" a voice cries out—a warning too late.

A shadow looms behind me, and I spin, bringing my sword up just in time to block a strike from a towering brute of a vampire that would have cleaved me in two.

He presses his advantage. "Yield or die!"

"Neither." With a surge of strength born of desperation, I shove him back.

My blade arcs down, finding the gap in his armor, and I end him.

But even as he falls, I know this is only the beginning. The horde presses closer, their eyes bright with malicious glee. I stand my ground, fighting not just for the right to claim this land as ours, for the love that binds me to Eleanna, and for the world we dream of building together, but also for survival.

With each fallen adversary, I push down the rising dread—the knowledge that this is a battle we cannot win. We can battle Catarina's army, but I don't have enough troops to defeat my home. There are far too many of them. Even with Eleanna's enhanced vampire prowess, she can't hold back the enemy. Yet, I'm not quite ready to give up.

"Alexandru!" Eleanna's voice cuts through the din of clashing steel and guttural roars.

Her eyes, bright as sapphire flames, meet mine across the battlefield. She moves with superiority, a grim reaper among the invaders, her red hair a fiery banner in the gray winter light.

I fight my way to her side, my blade cutting down everything in my path. "We can't hold them," I say between strikes, the words tasting of ash in my mouth.

Her laughter is a chilling sound, devoid of mirth. "Then we shall make them pay for every inch they dare take from us."

As one, we carve a path through Catarina's minions, our combined might an expression of our bond. But even as we fight, I see it—the relentless current that crashes against our resolve. Our warriors are falling, their blood bathing the snow.

Eleanna takes a precious second to look up at me. "You have to lead them to safety. We will live to fight another day."

"Retreat!" The command rips from me, raw and agonized.

It's a word I've never thought to utter, yet now it rings out, sealing our fate.

"To the bastion, then." Eleanna says. "We'll make our stand there."

My men and women don't need to be told twice. We fall back, buying precious moments for our wounded to escape.

The cold bite of defeat sinks deep, a sharp variance to the heat of battle that still courses through my veins. My home, a fortress of memories and hope, fades into the distance, soon to be just another casualty in this endless war.

Suddenly, Ivan, Nicolai, and Marianne appear on horseback, returning home. With confused expressions, they fall in line with us. The ground trembles under the thunderous retreat, hooves pounding against the frozen earth as we flee.

Eleanna rides beside me. She's not even weak from the battle. Her eyes are ablaze with undiminished spirit, glowing like twin sapphires.

"General Amanar," Nicolai says, his voice strained over the clamor of combat. "We've arrived too late."

"Keep moving." My heart hammers against my ribcage as the taste blood from a split lip fills my mouth

"Damn you, Catarina," I curse under my breath, my fury a living thing that gnaws at my insides.

It's not just the walls and battlements we leave behind—it's our legacy, our history.

"General, on your flank." Marianne's warning slices through the tumult.

Instinctively, I pivot on my steed as a vampire assailant lunges toward me with feral hunger etched into its grotesque features. I dispatch the creature with a swift, decisive stroke of my blade. The body crumples to the snow, staining it black.

"Thank you," I say, acknowledging Marianne's vigilance.

We push on, the night swallowing us whole. The arctic winds seep through our armor. My home, once a bastion of power and pride, is now just a fading silhouette against the horizon.

Eleanna gallops up alongside me. "Alexandru. We will have vengeance."

"Yes." I swallow hard, the word feeling hollow.

My army—what's left of it—and their families trail behind, walking, riding in wagons, or on horseback. Everyone is somber, quiet, grieving.

Vengeance. Loss. Survival. They blend collectively, indistinguishable in the face of such failure.

As the distance between us and our pursuers grows, the sounds of Catarina's army withdraw, and they don't, thank the gods, follow. We've escaped, but at what cost? At the forefront lies uncertainty, a future uncharted and fraught with peril. Behind us lies a home that's no longer ours, a place where my family's legacy will be trampled under the boots of our adversaries.

My resolve hardens. They may have overwhelmed us today, but I swear on the blood of my fallen comrades—this is not the end. We will return. We will reclaim what is ours.

For now, we run.