Chapter 80 A Monster of My Own Making
Elara collapsed behind a gnarled trunk. Her back hit the rough bark with a force that knocked the air from her lungs. Her hands trembled violently as she pressed them over her mouth. She tried to wipe away the taste of Ronan’s blood but it lingered on her tongue like a heavy, copper sin.
"What have I done?"
Across the clearing the Nosferu remained perfectly still. Their pale figures stood between the trees like silent witnesses to her shame.
Ronan forced himself upright. His body protested immediately. Dizziness crashed through him as blood seeped through his collar. The wound on his neck burned fiercely and for the first time in his life his Lycan healing refused to answer.
He staggered forward anyway, his hand clutching his bleeding neck.
“Elara,” he called quietly.
She didn’t look at him. Her shoulders curled inward as if she were trying to disappear into herself.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know I would—”
Her voice broke. Ronan stopped a few steps away from her. He could feel the Nosferu watching them. He could feel them waiting for him to fall. But he forced his attention back to the shaking girl in front of him.
“I’m not angry,” he said.
Elara finally lifted her head. Her eyes were still flickering between colors. Black. Green. Silver. She looked unstable and terrified.
“You should be,” she said bitterly. “Look at you.”
Blood had soaked through his shirt collar. The jagged wound at his neck looked worse now that the adrenaline had faded.
“You’re hurt because of me.”
Ronan wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. He gave a tired shake of his head. “That wasn’t you.”
A humorless laugh escaped her. “Yes it was.”
Her hands clenched tightly around her knees as she slid further down the tree trunk.
“I couldn’t stop,” she whispered. “I felt the hunger and I didn’t even care that it was you.” Her voice cracked again. “What kind of person does that?”
“You’re not a monster Elara.”
Her head snapped up instantly. “Yes I am! I hurt you. I nearly killed you!”
Dark purple sparks flickered along her fingertips as her emotions spiraled. “I’m exactly what everyone always feared I would become.”
Ronan stepped closer despite the way the ground seemed to sway under his feet. “You’re someone who was forced into something she never asked for,” he said quietly.
Elara shook her head violently. “You didn’t see what it felt like inside my head. It was like something else was controlling me.”
“Then that proves my point.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion.
“It means the monster isn’t you,” Ronan said. “It’s the thing trying to take control.”
For a moment she just stared at him. Then her gaze dropped to the blood still staining his shirt.
“You’re still lying,” she murmured bitterly. “You can barely stand.”
Ronan glanced down at himself and sighed. “Okay. Maybe a little hurt. But I’m still here. And I’m not running away from you.”
Her chest tightened. “I would,” she whispered. “If I were you.”
“Well,” Ronan said as he leaned weakly against a nearby tree for balance. “Good thing you’re not.”
Silence stretched between them. Then something shifted in Elara’s memory. Her head snapped up.
“Master Aris. Faye. Liora.”
Fear flooded her face. “I left them behind. They were hurt. I have to go back.”
Ronan immediately shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.” His gaze drifted past her toward the edge of the clearing. The Nosferu hadn’t moved. They were still watching
Ronan wiped a smear of blood from his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he looked past Elara. These were not scavengers waiting for a scrap. They were soldiers holding a line. A normal predator would have scented their weaknesses and lunged for the kill minutes ago.
Instead, they stood like statues of bone and shadow, their eyes fixed on the moon as if waiting for a conductor to raise a baton.
"Elara," he whispered, his voice tightening with a new kind of dread. "Something is off. They aren't attacking."
He watched the lead Nosferu. The creature’s head was tilted at an unnatural angle, listening to a frequency Ronan couldn't hear. It didn't make sense.
He was a dying King and she was a fractured Keystone; they were at their most vulnerable, yet the monsters remained motionless.
It wasn't fear keeping them back.
"They're waiting for the zenith," Elara realized, her breath hitching as the sky began to bruise.
The air grew thick, the oxygen seemingly replaced by the scent of ozone and ancient malice. Above them, the moon didn't just darken; it twisted. The crimson edges bled into the center of the lunar disc, turning the world the color of a fresh wound.
The Nosferu’s eyes ignited at the same moment. Bright red. A collective, guttural breath escaped their lungs, a sound of hungry relief.
“Zakaat-ul-Vessel!”
“Zakaat-ul-Vessel!”
Dozens of pale clawed bodies streaked toward her. Teeth bared. Eyes glowing like coals.
“Elara!” Ronan shouted as he stumbled forward.
She felt the pull of his danger but forced herself to stay upright. Her body trembled from the throbbing hunger and the pressure of the witch’s power inside her all at once.
No. She couldn’t lose control again. Not now.
Purple sparks hissed from her fingertips as her hands shot forward. The runes flared with silvery light and rippled outward like invisible barriers. The first Nosferu slammed against the magical blast and shrieked as black dust rained from its limbs.
But there were too many.
One Nosferu lunged at her shoulder. She ducked and spun on instinct. Her teeth clenched. Her fangs itched for blood but she forced them back. Instead her claws extended in a reflexive snarl as she tore through the creature’s arm.
Another Nosferu jumped from above. Elara flicked her wrist. A bolt of violet fire struck the creature squarely in the chest. It collapsed midair while shadow-tainted flames consumed its body. She barely had time to dodge the next wave.
“Focus,” she muttered to herself.
Purple-white flames erupted along her legs as she sprinted forward. She pivoted and slid under one creature before ramming her elbow into its stomach. The impact flung it into another and they both disintegrated in a shower of black dust.
Her vision flickered between colors as her vampire senses flared. She could smell the copper of their blood. She could hear the faint pulse of their heartbeats. Every second was a calculation.
A Nosferu lunged from behind. She slammed her hand into the dirt and muttered a sharp incantation. Jagged spikes of silver energy erupted from the soil and impaled the creature.
Her body was exhausted. Her chest burned from exertion. The wolf in her ached to pounce recklessly but the witch in her demanded control. She forced herself to breathe.
One Nosferu lunged for Ronan. Elara’s eyes snapped to him. She sprinted in a blur. Her fist struck the creature in the jaw and a kick sent it hurtling into two more.
Her vision swirled. She could feel the Red Moon suppressing her power. Sweat dripped into her eyes and stung but she couldn’t stop. She couldn't allow herself to lose control. If she slipped the hunger would take over. If she slipped Ronan might be next.
Every punch and every spell was a balancing act. She was barely human now. She was barely in control. But she was still fighting.
Ronan barely had the strength to continue fighting. His fingers clawed at the dirt as he staggered forward.
“Elara—” he gasped.
He didn’t see the movement behind him.
The tallest Nosferu moved with terrifying precision. Its arm elongated into a black blade that shimmered faintly under the Red Moon. Before Ronan could react it plunged the blade straight into his chest.
The air seemed to stop.
Blood exploded across the dirt. His body crumpled forward and collapsed like a ragdoll. His golden eyes remained closed.
Elara froze. One heartbeat. Two. And then everything inside her shattered.
The wolf instincts screamed. The vampire hunger surged. The witch-fire ignited uncontrollably.
“No! NO!” she screamed. The sound ripped through the forest like thunder.
Her hands flared with raw violet-white energy. Arcane sigils appeared in the air around her and exploded outward with every syllable she screamed. The runes ignited the ground beneath her feet and sent columns of flames and spikes of silver fire erupting into the trees.
She moved as a blur. Claws extended. Fangs bared. She was a reaper. Every Nosferu that lunged at her was shredded by flames or ripped apart by feral precision. The ground cracked. The trees splintered. The air burned and warped like liquid.
Purple-blue flames engulfed the clearing.
Her mind was burning. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. All she could feel was rage and grief and the unbearable weight of seeing him like that.
Ronan’s blood soaked her hands as she held him against her chest. She didn't even notice the fire anymore.
“Stay with me! Please—STAY!” she screamed. Her voice tore the very air.
The forest cracked under the force of her magic. Lightning arced into the trees and set them ablaze. Shadows bent and twisted under the heat of her combined bloodlines.
And then everything went black.
The forest. The rifts. The Nosferu. The flames. It all vanished into an impenetrable void.
Elara’s last thought before the darkness swallowed her was a single prayer.
"Please. Don’t die on me."