For decades Highland Academy has trained soldiers to haunt the vampires that plague the City of Cresthill but when a grave mistake threatens their school and everything they've built, Eden - a huntress - is given a chance to save them. All she has...
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C H A P T E R N I N E ·𖥸·
Sylvester watched from the window of the grand di- ning room as people flooded the estate. Word had spread like wildfire and one after the other, vampires from their fraction walked through the gates, a candle in one hand and their condolences in the other.
But it wasn't just Julian they were mourning. Tonight, The Rebellion had killed him too. With a thousand stab wounds to his heart, they'd left him out to bleed. Suddenly the world wasn't so bright. It was grim and everything was dark and grey. But Sylver steeled himself, he found solace in the coming of their pain. For in his vengeance he would paint his world with their blood and the flames of their labor as it all burned to the ground would light his path.
His hands balled into fists by his side as he watched the sea of people. It could have been anyone. Anyone else. And they could've stood a chance, but they chose to go to war with the wrong person. The worst person. And the very room he was to sign the treaty, was now the very room he would decide how the world would pay.
Sylver sighed heavily, he'd almost forgotten. They'd all gathered to hear the thrilling details of what transpired. Better yet, their salvation, the sole and only survivor was a man who saw nothing.
It felt pointless. Julius was dead, that was all he needed to know. He had the crime and a laundry list of felons, what else could he possibly need? Names and specifics only narrowed it down and Sylver quite enjoyed his list long. But, then again, he did need one small thing. An ornament, the star at the very top of the tree, the one name that would top his list. That was the only reason he stayed.
Stood unmoving before the window, Sylver didn't once look back, but he missed nothing as the room settled into a deafening silence and Ròg begun.
"We were in an Alley. Julius had cornered a woman who'd been tailing him. She was looking into the existence of our kind and somehow discovered what he was and wanted to be turned. So he compelled her to be terrified and tried to give her a good scare. It was supposed to be a joke. His form of entertainment. A way of stopping her from getting herself killed. But somehow her screams drew a few hunters that were nearby. Julius tried to avoid a fight. He didn't want any trouble. He gave them a chance to go, but the hunters, they didn't want peace. They were out for blood." Ròg's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Before I knew it, everything went to hell. I fought with him, side by side and we were doing well, so well. But more of them just kept coming. There were too many encircling me. They drove us apart. It felt like there was an army of them. No matter how many I warded off more just came." He tried to steady his breathing but it was getting shakier by the second.
"It was Specter who led the troop. I'm certain of it. At one point, he tricked Julian to stall so more of his minions could come. And I don't know much, not nearly enough, but I knew the exact moment Julius fell. It was like time took a standstill, my heart stopped when I heard him take his last breath and his last word was... Brother," Ròg said.
There was a stretch of silence before the others begun to pry for details. But Sylver was at a loss of words. Truth be told, he didn't have the stomach for more. Their voice blurred into background noise as he thought over how he would bring The Rebellion to their knees. Killing them wasn't enough. Death was too good a fate. An easy way out. No. Revenge was a three course meal and dessert was best served cold.
Sylver steadied his breathing, calming himself. Just like they did him, he would take from them everything they loved. Break everything they'd built. Ruin them to a point of no return. And when they were on the brink of madness, tipping the very edge of despair, consumed, hopeless, broken and dead inside, then and only then, could they truly die.
"Sylver, what do we do?" Elizabeth asked.
But she knew the answer to that. They all knew. There was only one thing left to do and it was so terrifying that they couldn't even garner the courage to speak it. But as Sylver stood before that window, the words at the tip of his tongue, he felt nothing.
"We join the others," he said, turning to face the room.
"The others?" Elizabeth asked, as though she was hoping her ears had deceived her.
Sylver's eyes narrowed down at her and she took a step forward, brows knitted and prying brown eyes searching his desperately. He knew what she wanted, he could see the plea on her face. She wanted him to tell her she'd heard wrong, to tell her he wasn't so cruel. But he couldn't. And deep down they all knew it. Xavier wore a hard blank expression, Octavia's satisfied gaze was fixated on him, Ròg and Owen stood with their heads bowed and Luna and Milo avoided his eyes. In the pin-drop silence, their worries were palpable.
"But if we join the others, that means—"
"I know what that means," Sylver cut Luna off. "I'm counting on what that means."
With that, he strode to the door, Elizabeth still tripping over her words as Sylver loomed past and exited, taking the stairs up to the dark hallway.
He didn't care if they thought him extreme. The humans crossed the line first when they brought the fight to him, now he was going to finish what they started. And no one and nothing could stop him.
He hurried for his room, desperately needing the confinement of his four walls, the quiet that resided behind it, the semblance of familiarity with everything so out of place. But the closer he got, the harder it was. Because just opposite his room was Julian's.
Like a wind to a flame, the mere sight of the barren door blew out his resolve. It was best to call it a night, retreat into his sanctuary, where he could safely fall apart. But it seemed he hadn't gotten enough pain for one night. Before he knew it, he was stood before Julian's door. He reached out for the handle and recoiled from it as if it burnt, then he gritted his teeth, swallowed hard and forced himself to enter.
It hit him. The spiced scent of vetiver, tobacco and coffee. Julian's smell. It used to be so sweet but now it was so bitter because it only amplified his absence. And for a moment Sylver just stood there, before Julian's oasis of velvet curtains, king sized bed and spotless dark wood floor. He just stood there and breathed. The silence so deafening.
There was so much he wanted to say yet he couldn't find the words. What use were words now? It was late. It was pointless. He failed. He failed the one person who believed in him. He failed the one person he swore to protect.
"You called for me and I wasn't there. If I had... if I had known... if..." he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, studying his breathing. "But don't you worry brother. I may be dead but even now I am not alone, I have all this grief to keep me company. And I can't promise to live but I will open the blinds, I will go out and I will raise a glass as the city burns and everyone pays for what they have done. Habes me verbum."
