Chapter 71

Sleep does not come easily after the vision.

Even now, hours later, my body still feels like it remembers the pain—the crushing pressure behind my eyes, the cold air in my lungs, the sound of blood dripping from that terrible door.

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling of my room in the Elvadores mansion, listening to the slow, steady tick of the antique clock on the far wall.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Each second feels louder than the last.

The room is dim now, the late afternoon sun slipping behind thick gray clouds outside the tall windows. Shadows stretch across the polished floor, creeping slowly toward the bed like silent fingers.

I pull the blanket tighter around my body.

Not because I’m cold.

Because I feel exposed.

Vulnerable.

Like something is watching.

My gaze drifts to my hands resting on the blanket.

They look normal.

Clean.

Dry.

But I can still feel the memory of warm blood dripping between my fingers in that vision. I can still smell the metallic scent. I can still hear the creak of the door opening.

A shiver runs through me.

I close my eyes briefly.

Focus.

Breathe.

You’re here.

You’re safe.

You’re alive.

At least… for now.

Footsteps echo faintly in the hallway outside my room.

Heavy.

Measured.

Familiar.

Damon.

I know his stride the same way I know the rhythm of my own heartbeat—confident, controlled, dangerous.

But tonight, there’s something different about it.

Urgency.

The door opens without a knock.

Of course it does.

Damon steps inside, dressed in dark slacks and a black shirt, sleeves rolled slightly at the forearms. His presence fills the room instantly, like a storm rolling in.

Behind him stands a woman I’ve never seen before.

She’s older—maybe late thirties or early forties—with long dark hair braided down her back and sharp, observant eyes that seem to take in everything at once. She wears layered necklaces of silver and stone, and a deep burgundy shawl draped over her shoulders.

Power hums around her.

Not vampire power.

Not werewolf power.

Something else.

Something ancient.

Something watchful.

Damon’s gaze flicks to me immediately.

Sharp.

Assessing.

“Good,” he says quietly. “You’re awake.”

I sit up slowly against the headboard, forcing my breathing to stay steady.

“Who is she?” I ask.

The woman steps forward before Damon can answer.

Her voice is calm, but it carries weight—like every word has meaning beyond what’s spoken.

“My name is Anna,” she says.

A seer.

I feel it instantly.

The way the air shifts around her.

The way her eyes linger just a second too long on my face.

The way my instincts scream to be careful.

Damon moves closer to the bed, arms folding across his chest.

“She’s here to help us understand what happened to you in the garden,” he says.

My stomach tightens.

Danger.

Not physical danger.

Exposure.

Because if Anna sees what I saw…

If she understands what that vision meant…

Everything will change.

Anna steps closer, stopping a few feet from the bed.

Her gaze locks onto mine.

Unblinking.

Searching.

I fight the urge to look away.

“Tell me what you remember,” she says gently.

Her voice is soft, almost comforting.

But I don’t trust it.

I swallow.

Carefully.

“I… fainted,” I say slowly.

True.

Mostly.

“I saw a flash of something. Colors. Maybe a door. I’m not sure.” I shrug lightly. “It felt like a dream.”

Silence fills the room.

Heavy.

Suspicious.

Damon watches me closely.

Too closely.

His eyes narrow slightly, studying my face like he’s trying to peel back the truth hiding beneath my words.

He knows.

Or at least… he suspects.

Anna closes her eyes.

Her breathing slows.

The air in the room changes.

Still.

Thick.

Charged.

A faint pressure builds behind my temples as she raises her hand slightly, fingers curling as if reaching for something invisible.

Magic.

She’s trying to see.

Trying to enter the memory.

Trying to step into the vision.

My heart begins to pound.

No.

No, no, no.

Then—

Her eyes snap open.

Sharp.

Startled.

Confused.

Her hand drops suddenly to her side.

A deep frown forms on her face.

“That’s… strange,” she murmurs.

Damon straightens immediately.

“What is it?” he demands.

Anna turns slowly toward him, unease flickering across her expression.

“Something is blocking me.”

The words hit my chest like a sudden gust of cold wind.

Blocking.

My mind flashes instantly to Vanessa.

To the spell.

To the protection she placed on me.

A shield.

A barrier.

A secret.

Anna steps closer again, studying me with renewed intensity.

“It feels like a veil,” she continues. “A spell woven tightly around her memories. Old magic. Protective magic.”

My pulse quickens.

Damon’s gaze shifts back to me, sharper now.

Suspicion burning behind his eyes.

“Did someone cast something on you?” he asks.

I shake my head quickly.

Too quickly.

“I don’t think so,” I reply.

Lie.

The word echoes loudly in my mind.

But my face stays calm.

Careful.

Controlled.

Because I cannot let them know.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Anna watches me silently for a long moment.

Her eyes soften slightly.

But something darker flickers beneath the surface—concern, maybe… or fear.

“There is more to this vision than what she remembers,” Anna says slowly. “I can feel it.”

Damon exhales sharply through his nose.

Frustration.

“Can you break the spell?” he asks.

Anna hesitates.

Then shakes her head.

“No.”

Silence falls again.

Heavy.

Uneasy.

“Whoever cast it knew what they were doing,” she continues. “It is not meant to be broken easily. It is meant to protect.”

Protect.

The word settles deep in my chest.

Vanessa protected me.

My friends protected me.

From them.

From the Elvadores.

Because deep down, we all know the truth.

I don’t belong here.

Not really.

I glance down at my hands again, fingers tightening against the blanket.

And that’s when the realization hits me fully.

Clear.

Cold.

Terrifying.

I know what the vision meant.

Not every detail.

Not every answer.

But enough.

I am the door.

Not a symbol.

Not a metaphor.

A literal door.

An anchor between worlds.

A gateway for things older than vampires… older than wolves… older than anything living in this realm.

Creatures like the Elvadores.

My stomach twists violently.

Because if they discover that truth—

They won’t protect me.

They’ll use me.

Anna’s voice pulls me back into the room.

“She should not be here.”

The words slice through the silence.

Damon stiffens immediately.

“What?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

Anna turns her full attention toward him.

Her expression is serious now.

Grave.

“This place is not meant for her,” she says. “The energy around her is unstable. Conflicted. She stands at the edge of something that does not belong in this world.”

My heart pounds harder.

Fear creeping into my chest.

“She is not rooted here,” Anna continues quietly. “She is… displaced.”

The room feels colder suddenly.

Damon’s jaw tightens.

“You’re saying she’s in danger?” he asks.

Anna looks at me again.

Long.

Thoughtful.

Then she answers.

“Yes.”

One word.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

Damon exhales slowly, tension rolling off him like heat from a fire.

“Enough,” he says.

His voice leaves no room for argument.

He turns toward the door.

“We’re done here.”

Anna hesitates.

Just for a second.

Then nods.

As Damon escorts her toward the hallway, she pauses at the doorway and looks back at me one last time.

Her eyes hold mine.

And something in them sends a chill straight down my spine.

Not pity.

Not curiosity.

Warning.

“You do not belong in their world,” she says softly.

Then she leaves.

The door closes behind them with a quiet click.

Silence settles over the room again.

But this silence feels different.

Heavier.

Darker.

More dangerous.

I sit frozen on the bed, staring at the door long after they disappear.

My chest rises and falls slowly.

My thoughts racing.

Because every day, something new goes wrong.

Every day, another piece of the truth surfaces.

Another warning.

Another secret.

And it all started—

The moment the Elvadores arrived.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, pressing my feet against the floor.

My mind begins to form a plan.

Careful.

Quiet.

Risky.

I need to tell Vanessa.

I need to tell Chloe.

They have to know what I saw.

What I felt.

What that door means.

But I can’t do it here.

Not in this house.

Not where they can hear everything.

Not where Damon watches me like a hunter watching prey.

I stand slowly, walking toward the window.

Outside, the sky has darkened completely.

Storm clouds gather in the distance.

Wind rustles the trees in the garden below.

And right there—

At the far edge of the flower beds—

I see it again.

The red flower.

Swaying gently in the wind.

Waiting.

Watching.