A Shade of Vampire 37: An Empire of Stones(29)

I looked down at myself, noticing first that my robes were gone. I was wearing nothing but a simple black cloth tied around my waist, with a scabbard hanging from my hips containing the sword of Hellswan. Relieved that I still had a weapon, I took a few steps forward, not entirely sure what direction I should be heading in.

Deciding eventually that it was unlikely to matter, I headed off in a northerly direction.

Soon I was dehydrated and my skin felt tight and scorched by a relentless sun. I had no idea how long I’d been walking for—the landscape still hadn’t altered, and I had no way of knowing how far I’d traveled. The sun hadn’t changed its position in the sky, as if the world I was in had been frozen in time.

Near giving up and heading back in a different direction, I finally saw a shape in the distance. I picked up my speed in a final effort, and soon the shape took on a recognizable form. It was a cave, emerging out of the earth like a gaping mouth.

I drew closer, and began to realize there was a figure standing in its entrance. It was female, and as I hurried toward her, I began to recognize familiar features.

My mother.

I stood in front of her, gasping for breath, unable to speak.

“Welcome, my son.” She smiled at me, her brown eyes as kind as I’d remembered them, her jet-black hair tossed in the heat of the wind.

“It has been a long time,” she continued. “And you are the man I always hoped you would become.”

I rubbed my temples.

“You are a figment of my imagination,” I replied stiffly.

“Perhaps. Does it matter?”

“No,” I conceded. “Perhaps it does not.”

She embraced me. Her form was solid, real. She even smelled the way she used to. My heart ached from the memory. After a few moments she released me, and I stood back.

“Will you tell me what I am supposed to do?” I asked.

“You are just required to listen.” She smiled again. “The crown of the six kingdoms will soon be yours, if you cut out your heart and persevere…but you must know that the path was not yours to take and belongs to another. You, Tejus, are a false king—and another destiny awaits you, should you choose it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just as I said.”

“More riddles!” I exhaled, furious. “Tell me, can it be mine? Can the crown be mine?”

“It is yours, if you cut out your heart and persevere,” she repeated.

“I do not understand.” I groaned. “My kingdom and the whole of Nevertide is in danger, and the Impartial Ministers answer me with riddles?”

“Tejus, it is not they who do this. It is just the way. The crown is yours if you are willing to pay the price, but it is great.”

“I am willing to pay it.”

My mother smiled sadly, nodding.

“I wish that you were not,” she whispered.

I didn’t understand her. Had my mother risen from her grave, I would have expected her to be proud of where I’d reached…but perhaps my memory was playing false tricks on me. I couldn’t truly remember if she had approved of my father ruling Nevertide, or what she had ever wanted me to become.

She is your imagination, fool.

“What do I do now?” I asked, refocusing on my task.

“You need to bloody your sword, beloved son.”

I looked around. There was nothing—no creatures, no living thing as far as the eye could see.

My mother started to laugh.

“Honorable to the last, Tejus!”

“What do you mean?”

“Me. I am your target.” She smiled again, looking brightly into my eyes.

“I can’t!”

What horrific test was this?

“You can and you must. It’s the only way, Tejus. You said so yourself, whatever it takes.”

“Not this!”

“Don’t be afraid—I am already long dead.”

I swallowed, hating myself as my fingers touched the pommel of my sword. How would I ever forgive myself for this? I knew it was my imagination, but would it be another moment that I would replay in my mind, time and time again, like my brother’s body falling from his tower, and the departing back of Jenus? As my mother nodded encouragingly, Hazel’s face entered my mind. My saving grace. Would the sound of her laughter wipe out this moment?

Before I could change my mind, I unsheathed the sword and held its tip pressed against my mother’s chest.

“I love you, Tejus. I forgive you for this.”

Looking away, I slid the sword into her.



I came to back at the pavilion, looking up at the eaves of the dome.

Instantly I registered the lingering effects of my desert vision—my skin still felt burnt, my mouth parched. I was back in the robes I’d been wearing, and my sword was sheathed in my scabbard. With trembling hands, I reached again for the pommel. When I drew it out, the blade was a bright red, the metallic tang of blood suddenly infiltrating the air and filling my nostrils with its scent. Was it truly the blood of my mother? Or just some trick of the hallucinogenic drug?