The journey to the Crown Library was long and treacherous—not because of the terrain, but because of what it demanded of Mary.
For two days she traveled alone, slipping through border towns under darkness, avoiding soldiers loyal to the Circle, and silencing any creature still tainted by Hollowlight's awakening. The air itself felt changed. Colder. Sharper. She caught whispers in the wind, laughter in silence—signs that the Between was bleeding into the real world.
By the time she reached the Library gates, dawn had barely broken through the thick, violet-gray clouds that hung over the capital. The guards were sluggish in the early hour, and Mary used it to her advantage. Cloaked in a glamour spell she'd learned from an old Fae tome, she slipped past the outer gates and through the grand archway leading to the east wing.
The Vault lay beneath the Library. No one was allowed access without permission from the High Mages or the Queen herself. But Mary had no time for permission.
The air in the library was thick with the scent of dust and aged leather. Lanterns flickered dimly in their sconces, illuminating tall shelves packed with tomes from every era of the kingdom. At its center, a wide spiral staircase descended into the restricted levels—the Archives.
Mary had only been here once, years ago, as a child.
That memory clung to her now like a ghost: her mother, eyes wide with awe, whispering to her, "This is where truth sleeps. If you wake it, be ready for what it says."
She reached the bottom landing and approached a large stone door etched with ancient runes. No handle. No keyhole. Just a single phrase carved in High Tongue:
"The blood remembers."
Mary took a breath, then drew a small blade. With a hiss, she sliced her palm and pressed it to the center of the door. Her blood soaked into the stone, and for a moment, nothing happened.
Then the runes ignited.
One by one, they flared with crimson light. The stone groaned, mechanisms clicking into place as the door split down the center and creaked open.
Behind it, darkness.
Cold, wet, suffocating darkness.
She stepped in.
The Vault was no ordinary archive. It was a crypt of memory. Shelves lined the walls, but instead of books, there were vessels—blood-vials, sealed scrolls written on skin, whispering stones. Some pulsed faintly, reacting to her presence.
A voice echoed through the chamber, soft and layered like it came from a dozen mouths at once.
"You are not meant to be here."
Mary didn't flinch. "I was meant to be born. That's enough."
She walked deeper, senses wide open. Her vampire side was on edge—the air tasted like old magic, bitter and alive. Her skin prickled.
Then she saw it.
In the center of the Vault stood a monolith—black, smooth, humming. Symbols crawled across its surface like living ink. At its base, a pool of dark liquid shimmered, reflecting not her face, but her true self.
She saw the human girl she once was… and something else.
Red eyes. Fangs longer than any vampire. Shadows curling from her spine like wings.
A chill ran down her neck.
Then the monolith spoke.
"Daughter of the Rift. Blood-born of two dying stars. Why do you seek what was buried?"
Mary swallowed hard. "Because Hollowlight has returned. And I need to know what I am before he does."
There was silence. Then, a vibration—like the monolith was laughing.
"He was not meant to awaken yet. The moons are not aligned."
"He forced his way through," she said. "The seal was weakened. And something inside me—recognized him."
The monolith pulsed.
"Because he is your progenitor. Not by flesh, but by essence. Your blood is threaded with the ancient ones. The Between touched your line long ago. You are a Key."
Mary's breath caught. "A key to what?"
"To the Gate. To the end. To his dominion."
The room trembled slightly. Shelves rattled. Somewhere, a vial shattered.
Mary stared at the reflection again.
So much of her life—her hunger, her strange resistance to sunlight, her ability to wield vampire and magical gifts—had always been labeled as anomalies. Half-blood quirks. But now, it made sense.
She wasn't just a half-vampire.
She was a vessel.
A bridge.
"I need to know how to stop him," she said.
The monolith dimmed, and when it lit again, a symbol appeared—burning crimson. It looked like an eye pierced with a dagger.
**"There is a weapon," it said. "Made before the world knew how to lie. It was created to end gods. But it was hidden after it turned against its makers. It lies in the Shardlands, guarded by the Sleepless Kin."
"I've heard of them," Mary said. "My mother told me stories… monsters that never dream."
"Not monsters. Remnants. Like you."
Mary stepped back from the monolith, her mind reeling.
So much had shifted in seconds.
She wasn't just fighting a god—she was linked to him. Her bloodline, her powers, even her survival could be the very tether he needed to open the Gate fully.
And yet, she might also be the only one who could stop him.
She took one last look around the Vault. Then she turned and walked away.
As the door sealed behind her, she whispered, "I'm not afraid of what I am anymore."
Outside, the city was beginning to stir. Morning bells tolled in the distance, and carriages rumbled along cobbled roads.
Mary vanished into the crowd.
She would gather Lela and Loosie. Then she would head for the Shardlands.
There, beyond the edge of the known world, where stars fell like tears and time forgot itself, she would face the Sleepless Kin.
And claim the weapon meant to kill Hollowlight.
Even if it meant embracing every monstrous part of herself to do it.