165. Nicholaus

165. Nicholaus
For a moment after her body goes still, I forget how to breathe. Echo lies limp in my arms, her hair spilling across my forearm, her head falling against my shoulder in a way that does not belong to the living. Her skin cools too fast. The bond collapses inward like a dying star, bright for a heartbeat, then folds into nothing. There is no pulse, no breath, no magic. Nothing but the silence of her body. A silence so absolute it feels like the chamber itself recoils from it, the runes dimming beneath us as though refusing to pull light into a space where she no longer breathes.
“Echo—” Her name shatters inside my chest, but she does not stir.
Verrin’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. “Now, my king. Feed her again, now.”
The words snap me back to myself, and I shift her weight into one arm, lowering us both to the ground in the centre of the rune circle. Her legs fold beneath her, and her head rolls against my shoulder. I bring my wrist to my mouth again and tear the skin open with my fangs, where blood wells hot and fast, and I get it to her lips.
“Drink,” I whisper, though she cannot hear me. “Echo, please. Drink.”
Her mouth stays slack. I slide a hand beneath her jaw, thumb against her lower lip, and nudge it open—her mouth parts from gravity alone. I press my wrist to her teeth and let blood run into her mouth.
“Take it,” I murmur, coaxing, begging. “Take it, my love. Follow me back.”
The blood pools against her tongue, but she does not move.
“Again,” Verrin says from outside the circle.
I bite deeper into my wrist. More blood spills, and I press harder against her mouth, letting it run until it spills down her chin and onto the silk of her gown. Still, her body does not swallow and panic claws up my throat, raw and tearing, like something trying to rip its way out of my chest.
“Echo,” I whisper, my voice breaking around the sound. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t stay gone.”

I slide my arm firmly behind her back, lifting her against my chest, cradling her upright. Her head lolls against my shoulder. One strand of hair falls across her cheek. She does not move. My other hand cups the back of her skull, holding her steady, holding her close, as though proximity alone might call her soul back into her body.
“Come back to me,” I whisper, forcing more of my blood into her mouth.
The runes suddenly glow brighter, pushing her magic inward and her body twitches. It's just a faint jerk beneath my hand. Not life — not yet — just the first crack in the threshold between worlds. A small, sharp reminder that her soul has not gone far. That she is somewhere close, suspended between life and death. I lower my mouth to her ear.
“You listen to me,” I say, voice hoarse, shaking. “You are not dying today. We are not done. Our child is not done. I need you, do you hear me?”
I tilt her head slightly, adjusting the angle, and press my bleeding wrist to her mouth once more, pushing the blood in with my thumb. This time, her throat tightens with a small swallow, and a sound between a sob and a breath escapes me. Relief and terror are braided together so tightly that I cannot separate them.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Good girl. Follow it. Follow me.”
She swallows again, a little stronger this time, and the faintest tremor runs through her jaw. Her fingers twitch against my coat in a weak, broken attempt at movement.
“Again,” Verrin says.
I bite deeper still, ignoring the flare of pain. My blood drips steadily past her lips as her throat works, once, twice more.

Then her back arches sharply in my arms, and her mouth falls open on a soundless gasp as the runes ignite. White light explodes upward from the floor, racing along the carvings, climbing the walls, flooding the dome with a pulse of magic so intense it steals the air from my lungs. Her Elementi power erupts again, this time in a convulsion of desperate instinct, a raw, wild surge that shakes the chamber to its foundations. The floor ripples beneath us, stone shifting like water under her distress. Wind whips across the circle, sharp and cold. The lantern flames gutter wildly, bending toward her as though dragged by invisible hands. Marienne steadies herself against a wall, and Verrin shields his eyes but does not move. I hold her through all of it as her head snaps back and her body seizes, then collapses again, heavy and limp, but this time the bond flickers. There's a spark in my chest, tiny, weak, but undeniably there.
“Echo,” I breathe, forehead pressing to hers. “Come on. Come back to me. I’m right here.”
I lift her wrist to my mouth and bite, letting her taste her own magic-rich blood mixing with mine. It's a desperate attempt to call her home. A reminder of everything she is tied to — me, our child, our future. Her finger curls weakly against my chest and my breath breaks. She’s fighting. She’s trying. She’s coming back to me.
“Good girl,” I whisper, shaking now, my voice barely audible. “That’s it, my love. Follow the bond. Follow me.”
Her chest jerks with a tightening spasm, then a faint, stuttering pulse taps once against my palm where I hold her heart. Her breath drags into her lungs in a thin, shaky pull — the first breath of her new life — and she arches violently in my arms as her lungs relearn how to work. Magic detonates outward again, but this time the vines retract, flames extinguish, and water pulls back into stillness. Everything draws inward, toward her, as if the entire chamber kneels at the moment she returns.

Her eyes finally fly open, but they're no longer blue. Not entirely Elementi anymore. They're a new colour — deep, dark, luminous — threaded with silver, catching every rune’s glow. Her gaze locks onto mine. Alive. She is alive. So alive it steals every thought from my mind. I choke on a sob as my forehead falls to hers.
“Echo,” I whisper, voice breaking completely. “Gods. You came back.”
Her lips tremble.
“Nicholaus…” Her voice is raw, scraped thin. “You caught me.”
I press a shaking kiss to her brow.
“I will always catch you.”
Her hand rises, unsteady and trembling as she holds onto my shirt, and her next whisper breaks whatever pieces of me were still intact.
“Our baby… are they safe?”
I instinctively lower my head to her belly, waiting until I hear the proof of life there in fluttering little beats of a heart.
“They are safe,” I breathe. “You saved them. You’re here. You’re both here.”
Her body softens against mine, exhaustion swallowing her, her magic settling into a new rhythm. Her heartbeat steadies, her breath evens, and for the first time in two hundred years, a vampire queen is reborn.