Chapter 4 Midnight Dare

The pendant burned against Elian's skin long after the nightmare faded.

Three days had passed since the crypt dream, and the shadows in Veyruhn had grown teeth. Every reflection in the foggy shop windows seemed to ripple with something other, every whisper of wind carried fragments of a language she shouldn't understand. Even her friends had started watching her like she might shatter.

"You look like hell," Jason had said that morning, uncharacteristically serious.

"You're not sleeping," Mira had accused last night, her fingers tightening around Elian's wrist.

But how could she explain that sleep wasn't an escape anymore? That every time she closed her eyes, he was there-Raelith, his voice like frostbitten silk, his hands tracing the pendant's outline against her throat as if marking his claim?

And now, as midnight crept over Veyruhn, Elian stood at the hostel's back door, her breath fogging the chilled air.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" Mira whispered, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. Inside: two flashlights, a pocketknife (Jason's contribution), and a dog-eared guidebook to European occult symbols (Mira's).

Jason grinned, already twisting the lockpick in the door's rusted mechanism. "When has breaking into a creepy museum ever been a bad idea?"

Elian didn't answer. Her fingers kept drifting to the pendant, its weight both comfort and curse. The last time they'd snuck out-just two nights ago, to the tavern-she'd seen him. Really seen him. Not in a dream, but in the flesh, watching from the shadows with those endless blue eyes.

The lock clicked.

"Boom." Jason shouldered the door open. "Museum, here we come."

The streets of Veyruhn at night were a different beast entirely.

During the day, the town played at being quaint-a postcard of cobblestones and candlelit cafés. But now, beneath a bone-white moon, the buildings seemed to lean closer, their windows dark eyes tracking their progress. The only sound was the scuff of their shoes and the distant, rhythmic drip of water from the butcher's awning.

Jason led the way, his flashlight cutting a narrow path through the mist. "So, the plan: we hit the museum, find the real creepy shit they don't show tourists, and-"

"And don't get arrested," Mira interjected, her voice tight.

Elian trailed behind, her senses prickling. The pendant throbbed against her collarbone, a slow, steady pulse like a second heartbeat.

"You're close."

The whisper came from nowhere and everywhere, Raelith's voice threading through her mind. She stiffened, scanning the shadows.

"Did you hear that?"

Mira turned. "Hear what?"

Elian swallowed. "Nothing."

Jason snorted. "Spooky's officially losing it." But even his bravado sounded thin.

The museum loomed ahead-a sprawling Gothic mansion with iron-barred windows and a crest carved above the door: a wolf with a dagger in its jaws.

Mira hesitated. "That's... new."

Elian frowned. "What?"

"The crest. It wasn't here during the day tour."

Jason, already jimmying the museum's side window, waved them over. "Less staring, more breaking and entering."

The window gave with a groan, exhaling a breath of air that smelled of dust and dried herbs-and beneath it, something metallic. Blood, maybe.

Elian's stomach twisted.

One by one, they slipped inside.

The museum's interior was a labyrinth of velvet ropes and glass cases, the artifacts within glowing faintly in the moonlight filtering through the high windows.

Jason whistled. "Check out the murder weapons." He pressed his face to a case displaying rusted daggers, their blades etched with the same symbols from Elian's dreams.

Mira drifted toward a display of yellowed parchments. "These are trial records. 'Executions for consorting with the Night's Children.'" She traced a finger over a name. "Seraphina of Veyruhn..."

Elian's breath caught.

Before she could react, the pendant jerked-a sharp, physical tug-toward a shadowed archway cordoned off by a frayed rope. A sign hung crookedly from it:

CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS

"Come."

Raelith's voice. Closer now. Hungrier.

Elian's feet moved before she could stop them.

"Hey, where are you-?" Mira's voice faded as Elian ducked under the rope.

The hallway beyond was narrow, the walls lined with portraits whose eyes seemed to follow her. At the end, a single door stood ajar, a sliver of crimson light bleeding through.

The pendant burned.

Elian pushed the door open.

The room beyond was circular, its domed ceiling painted with constellations that moved, their silver stars shifting like living things. At the center stood a single statue-a man in regal robes, his stone face frozen in a snarl, fangs bared.

The Betrayed King.

Elian's pulse roared in her ears. She knew this face-had seen it in dreams, in visions, in the shadows of every sleepless night.

Raelith.

A plaque at the statue's feet read:

"Cursed for eternity by the blood of his beloved. Only her lineage may break the seal."

Before she could think, Elian reached out-

-and the moment her fingers brushed the stone, the fang pricked her thumb.

A single drop of blood welled, splashing onto the statue's lips.

The world exploded.

Crimson light erupted from the runes encircling the statue, the force of it throwing Elian backward. The walls trembled; the portraits' frames rattled. Somewhere distant, Mira screamed her name.

And then-

Silence.

Elian lifted her head.

The statue's eyes were no longer stone.

They were blue.

And they were staring right at her.

Jason found her first.

"What the hell was that?!" He hauled Elian to her feet, his grip bruising. Behind him, Mira stood frozen, her flashlight beam shaking as it swept the room.

The statue was... just a statue again. No glowing runes. No living eyes.

But Elian knew.

"It's him," she whispered.

Mira's voice was shrill. "Elian, you're bleeding-"

A sound cut her off-a crack, like splitting stone.

All three turned.

A fissure snaked down the statue's face, then its chest, then-

"Run."

Elian didn't know who said it. Maybe all of them at once.

They bolted, crashing through the museum's halls, their footsteps echoing like gunshots. Behind them, something heavy hit the ground-then something alive took a breath.

Jason reached the window first, shoving Mira through. Elian scrambled after her, her ribs heaving-

-and then a hand closed around her ankle.

Not Jason's.

Cold.

Elian screamed, kicking back. The grip held for one terrible second-then released.

She tumbled into the alley, skinning her palms on the cobblestones. Jason yanked her up, and they ran, ran, ran, not stopping until the museum was swallowed by the mist.

Panting, they collapsed behind the butcher's shop.

"What. The FUCK," Jason gasped, "was that?"

Elian couldn't answer. Her entire body trembled, her thumb still oozing blood where the fang had pierced it.

And the pendant...

The pendant was singing.