Ruvan just continues to stare at me. I can feel his curiosity. The longer that I’m around him the more that I’m beginning to pick up on the subtle shifts of his magic. The more that I’m able to read him.
“My brother was—is—a hunter. He’s the one who taught me everything I know about fighting, even though he wasn’t supposed to. I was the forge maiden of Hunter’s Hamlet.”
“No wonder you looked like a natural in the smithy.” Winny relaxes her pout.
“Are you just tickled over the fact that you were tricked by a human, my lord?” Ventos asks dryly.
“If any human was to trick me, I think I’m glad it was Floriane.” Ruvan’s words are warm.
“Floriane?” Lavenzia repeats. “Your real name?”
“Yes, my full name. But if you’d like to keep calling me Riane, that’s fine, too.” No one has ever called me Riane before. It seems fitting to give them that continued permission. I do feel like a different person on this side of the Fade.
“Good to finally meet you, Floriane.” She gives me a nod of her head.
“Glad to know the real name of the woman I’m working with. Though I might still stick with Riane from time to time.” Winny outstretches her hand.
I consider it for a moment, but finally accept, clasping it tightly. “Riane is fine with me.”
“Now, let’s find this anchor and end the long night.” Ruvan turns to face the room.
“I do wonder how some long-ago human sneaked into our territory right under our noses to lay this curse. Though, perhaps I can see how, now.” Ventos side-eyes me. I sigh. As if I had anything to do with that person. Maybe he doesn’t realize that humans don’t have as long lifespans as vampires do…then again, I realize I don’t actually know how long a vampire’s lifespan is. The hunters call them eternal beings, but I’ve learned that’s not the case.
I look to Ruvan. What he’s said so far has led me to believe that his existence might be as fleeting as mine is. He has spoken of previous vampire lords throughout the ages; it seems like there are many who came before him—another difference from the hunters’ stories of a single vampire lord stalking us for millennia.
Leaving the thoughts and questions for later, I turn my attention to the room. Lavenzia lights a few of the sconces, casting a faint, orange light on this forgotten place.
The air has settled since our initial entry. The dust coats the tables, silver vessels, glass jars with various questionable substances and items floating within them. The vampires fan out through the room, careful not to touch anything, disturbing only with their eyes. I wonder if they’ll just know what the curse anchor is on sight and sense. So I leave finding it to them.
Instead I allow my mind to wander back to what this room might have been used for—back to my dreams. The room has been forgotten for ages. In my dream everything was bright and shining. Everything was new.
It couldn’t have been a glimpse into the future… The past, perhaps? Is that even possible? Ruvan said that for a vampire to perform their magic, they must have blood freely given. In which case, would I be seeing Ruvan’s past? He’s the one whose blood I consumed. Magic is tied to the blood, written by experience. But that isn’t a likely explanation, either. I try to force the woman from my dream to sharpen in my memory, but doing so makes my head hurt.
I walk up to one of the tables. Laid out are a number of vials in racks with notes attached to them. I’m not sure if they want me to be looking, but I do anyway; it’s hard not to. I’m so curious at this point. I fought and bled to be here. I have as much of a right as they do to know what all the struggle was for.
Plus, it’s not like any of them stop me.
They all hover around the notes left out, but I’m drawn to a palm-sized token next to a quill that’s weighted down by dust and cobweb. I lift the token and turn it over in my hands. Sure enough, it’s made of the same material as the door. It’s not pure silver. It’s too warm to be silver. And the luster is off. It’s not a silver variant I recognize either.
The smith has the right alloy now. We can test it with new daggers during the next full moon. That was what the woman said in my dream.
“Could this be the curse anchor?” I ask no one in particular. All attention is quickly on the disk in my hand.
“No,” Ruvan says finally. “But why do you ask?” He approaches.
“It’s a strange alloy and is made of the same metal as the door.”
“Looks like silver to me,” Lavenzia says, also coming for a closer investigation.
“It’s not silver,” I assure her.
“Of course it is.”
“No, it’s not,” I say, trying to keep my agitation to myself.
“I would know silver.” Lavenzia rolls her eyes.
“I think I should know silver better than you, since I smelt it.”
