Max, who had been in a daze all this time, frowned and leaned closer to Kaandor."I don't understand. If what Kaandor says is true, and Vladimir was slowly killing Asya with the vampire venom, and she, like many ordinary mortals, couldn't withstand the transformation and would have died… why did the Darkness try to merge with her? And then, for some reason, when it failed, it let her go, giving her a choice—who to be?"
Kaandor pushed off the wall and, swaying slightly, began clapping his hands uncontrollably, chanting something like "ding-ding-ding.""Finally! We have a winner!" he shouted, waving his arms theatrically. His hands froze, pointing at Max. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived at the most important question!"
Max shot me a tired look."Do you want to retell it yourself, or should I?"
I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, drew in a steady breath, and spoke calmly:"Let's keep it between us," I said. I didn't need him getting impressed by everyone else's reactions and turning even more theatrical. "Are you going to answer the question, or do we have to coax it out of you, piece by piece, as usual?"
"Isn't the answer obvious? The Darkness is looking for a host."
"A host?" Max grimaced, as if the idea were almost absurd. "Why would a being that can be everything and nothing at once cage itself inside a matchbox?"
"Imagine this: you are a powerful entity, constantly drawing energy from outside, but confined—like in a prison, only existing in an ephemeral, inaccessible space, from which you can barely reach anything other than what's cast into your care. The Darkness seeks freedom. Freedom and will equal to that of Mother Nature. The Darkness seeks power."
"And chaos," Max added with understanding. I, meanwhile, had to give the others a brief summary of the discussion. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place, and it showed. Everyone had gone suspiciously quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Only Stas looked utterly defeated. He had finally managed to gain some control over his body, if only enough to calm himself slightly. He stayed at a distance, rubbing the back of his neck. I could have sworn that, in this moment, all of Stas's thoughts were still spinning around Vladimir—and there was nothing anyone could do to help.
It's not easy to accept that your parent is not the hero you believed them to be, even when their past is shrouded in dubious motives and actions that could be justified, at least in part, by the fragile ideology they were happy to share if asked. But to learn that your father had, through his own deeds, killed your girlfriend… even considering the complications I'd had with my mother, Vladimir's act was beyond comprehension.
Surprisingly, I wasn't much troubled by the fact that, not so long ago, I had been dead without even realizing it. It's hard to grasp when you are alive, feeling, breathing, despite everything. Perhaps the understanding would come later, or maybe it would remain tucked away in the familiar dark box of miseries in my mind. Only time could tell.
"But why me?"
"Probably because I ended up in its grasp at the right time and place, and the Darkness decided to try," I suggested—but Kaandor shook his head.
"No, my dear. It pulled you in by mistake, confusing you with another."
"Ah, of course. Because the world is overflowing with high school girls with dark hair and interesting ancestry," I said with a touch of sarcasm.
"By merging with me, the Darkness tested the spell that had separated us. But the Trinity didn't just bind your power—it bound another child as well. A girl far stronger than you. A girl whose destiny was to occupy the seat of High Ksertone."
Max relayed Kaandor's story, and Viola gave her brother a strange, unreadable look. Their gazes met and lingered for a moment, as if a secret lay between the twins—one meant for them alone, never to be shared.
"My mother once told me," Viola said slowly, "when she was trying to suppress the werewolf power again, that the witches of Xertonia are divided precisely because there is no new High Witch. They believe she was never reborn, and the coven blames everything on a disruption of Mother Nature's design. For some reason, they decided that my parents' bond was forbidden—and that everyone is now paying the price for it."
"Typical witch racism," Kaandor sneered, briefly revealing a sharp white fang beneath his lip. "Any beings who bound themselves to a source of magic later than they did were deemed unworthy. A fascinating line of reasoning, considering that witches themselves are the reason vampires and werewolves exist at all. But we're drifting off topic. What matters is this: the Darkness wants the High Witch herself."
"But why the High Witch specifically?" Max began to reason aloud. "Why not me, Arthur, or Viola? We're descended from witches. We're original carriers of magic, yet we're also tied—through our second, vampiric nature—to dark matter. Wouldn't we be better suited as a vessel?"
Kaandor looked at him and fell silent, suddenly wary. Instead of answering, he moved slowly from the window to the head of the bed and stopped beside an unsuspecting Viola, who continued to frown so deeply that I began to worry her face might stay that way forever. Resting a clawed paw against the wooden headboard, Kaandor studied her thoughtfully. Viola lay quietly among the pillows, nearly swallowed by the blanket, looking almost peaceful—if not for the tension etched into her expression.
"Tell your sister to show her hands."
Uneasy, Max repeated the request. Viola reluctantly slid her hands out from beneath the blanket, keeping them clenched into fists.
"Can she open her fingers?"
Max relayed that as well, but Viola made no move to comply. Instead, she began to protest, muttering something incoherent—words that only her twin seemed able to decipher. Finally, sensing something was wrong, Max lunged forward and caught her wrist midair as she tried to hide her hand again. He pressed his thumb hard against her wrist, and her fingers reflexively loosened.
That was enough.
Black as night, her fingertips stared back at us.
"A familiar mark, isn't it?" Kaandor said calmly. "It remained despite all your efforts, Max. But one marked cannot take the mark from another. You already knew that, didn't you, Max?"
If you want to hide something, put it right in plain sight.