Chapter 110: Ms. Kline POV
Now, outside, the night feels wrong.
Not silent—but held.
As if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for the moment everything ends. Even the trees stand still. Silent as we move.
Raubtier and I walk side by side through the dense forest, the shadows deepening with every step we take toward Stephen’s camp. The path twists between ancient trees and jagged boulders, but neither of us speaks.
There is nothing left to say. We both know the path we have chosen.
Raubtier's aura is muted tonight, dimmed in a way I’ve never felt before. Usually, his presence crackles with predatory confidence—cold, dark, suffocating. But now?
Now he feels… ancient.
Not powerful—just old.
He’s finally accepted what tonight means.
We both have. Tonight is a night of sacrifice.
We both have no intentions of leaving Stephen’s camp alive.
I tighten my grip on the small vial in my sleeve—the only reason I’m going through with this. The only thing that matters now.
Raubtier’s voice breaks the silence, low and rough. “Your heartbeat has not changed since we left the tunnels. Most people fear death. You—” he glances at me, his eyes glowing faintly red in the moonlight, “—have made peace with it.”
“I have,” I admit quietly.
He snorts, almost amused. “Witches. Always so dramatic.”
“You still came with me,” I remind him.
He stops walking.
His stillness is absolute—too still. The way only a vampire can be when every ounce of will and instinct is focused inward. Finally, he speaks, "I know why I am doing this, but why are you?"
I sigh and look up at the moon, not yet full. "It is my penance. I feel like I created this monster. I must do my part to help stop him. What about you? You have been around for centuries. You still have a sired child left. Why the death march for you?"
“I’m tired, Elizabeth.”
It’s the first time he’s called me by my full name. It almost breaks me.
“I’ve lived through wars that reshaped continents. Lost kings. Lost queens. Lost my people. Lost my purpose.” He exhales, a sound like brittle leaves collapsing. “And for centuries, I have watched men like Stephen spoil the world with their greed. Try to take what does not belong to them with no consequence.”
His red eyes lift to mine.
Empty. Exhausted. Done.
“I am ready to die.”
My throat tightens.
I reach out, placing my hand on his cold forearm. “Raubtier… you deserved a better end.”
He gives a humorless smile. “There are no better ends for men like me. But there are worthy ones. And tearing through Stephen’s abominations on my way out?” He bares his fangs slightly. “That sounds… fitting.”
We continue walking.
As the trees thin and the distant glow of Stephen’s campfires flicker, the stench hits us first—hybrids. Half-turned creatures with tangled magic and poisoned blood. Wolves, too—his loyal dogs.
Raubtier’s nostrils flare with disgust. “He has turned this place into a pit. Like all cowards do.”
“He loves building his power on the broken. Using the innocent broken people”
“And you,” Raubtier says softly, “will be the one to end him.”
“Unfortunately, I will not be able to end him, but I do plan to injure him enough to slow him down. I just need to buy our King and Queen time to get their strength. I just need to get close,” I whisper. “Just close enough.”
He nods. He understands better than anyone.
“To the center of the camp,” he says. “I make the path. You finish your business with the devil.”
“Raub—”
“No,” he cuts in sharply. “Don’t cheapen this with goodbyes. You chose your end. I choose mine.”
The shadows shift suddenly—hybrids catching our scent.
Raubtier’s posture changes instantly.
The old monster awakens.
His eyes flare crimson.
His fangs lengthen.
His aura ignites like a storm of frozen fire.
“Time’s up,” he growls, voice dropping into something feral.
He doesn’t wait for the hybrids to attack.
He launches.
In a blur of unnatural speed, Raubtier barrels into the first wave, ripping through flesh and bone with centuries of pent-up violence. His strength is terrifying—beautiful in its brutality.
He tears out a hybrid’s throat.
Breaks another’s spine with a twist.
Uses a wolf’s momentum to slam him into a tree so hard the trunk cracks.
More rush him.
He welcomes them.
Screams rip through the night.
The distraction has begun.
I pull my hood up and slip into the chaos, moving unseen as Raubtier becomes a tornado of fangs, claws, and rage. Every creature he brings down is one more second for me. One more step closer to Stephen.
One more sacrifice bought with blood.
As I near the center of camp, the battle behind me grows distant. But not quieter.
Raubtier is making them earn his death.
The camp opens into a clearing—fires burning in a wide circle. The air is thick with tension, with arrogance, with a familiar scent I’ve tried to forget for decades.
Stephen.
The center of the clearing is empty except for him.
He turns slowly, as if he’s been expecting me all along.
His smile is slow. Cruel. Familiar.
“Well,” he purrs, eyes glinting, “look who finally came crawling back.”
I step out of the shadows, my fingers curling around the vial hidden in my sleeve.
“Hello, Stephen.”