He remembered, still so fresh, his time with her. The connection he’d felt with her, the bliss, the earth-moving desperation to be near her always. He hadn’t realized love like that could exist. It had ruined him for all other females.
He’d thought it must be divine, that feeling. That the Fates were entwining the two of them as part of a larger plan. But then he’d woken up one morning and felt the call of the Flush, a pull so hard, so intense, that he could barely think for needing to get back. It was like his oxygen was drying up, and he could no longer breathe within the Brink.
He’d tried to bring his love with him. He’d tried to show her the portal to the Realm, but she hadn’t seen it. She’d thought he was crazy. Eventually, he had to let her go. It had broken him to leave, and he’d longed for her every day since, but had left her anyway. By herself. Crying all alone as he walked away.
That he might’ve left her to fend for herself with an infant—his child—
The windows spun around him, the floor racing up to meet him.
“Second!”
Halvor’s concerned face appeared in his vision.
“It cannot be true,” Romulus muttered.
Halvor did not attempt to lift him. He’d been the one to receive Romulus as he stumbled back to his home those twenty-something years ago.
“The elves were able to find a shifter that had taken part in the battle Vlad was chased from. A were-warthog. After days, he finally succumbed to their magic. Apparently, not only is this young woman able to blossom the sun in the night sky, she can summon the pulse.”
Romulus stared up at Halvor, not comprehending.
Summoning the pulse, a bundling of electrical energy that could concuss the air and magically blow the skies apart, was a rare gift graced to the worthiest of the Arcana family line—his family line. His grandmother was the last to have been bestowed with the mighty gift, and she was largely favored as the strongest and fairest First in the history of their race.
Air couldn’t get past the constrictions in Romulus’s throat. All he could do was shake his head and flutter his eyes. This was impossible. He might have a child he’d never met, one who’d grown up without their kind to guide, train, and protect her…
“If she is mine, and what you say is true…” His voice could barely be understood, it was so raspy. “She is in grave danger. I came into my full power at twenty-one, as did my mother, as did her mother and father before her. My father’s hit at twenty. She won’t understand what is happening. She won’t be able to control it, and certainly won’t be able to contain it. I’m sure she’s already having problems with the surges—how is she surviving? She will kill herself and probably everyone within her immediate reach and range. It would almost be a blessing if Vlad were to capture her. As an elder, he must be strong enough to counteract most of her magic.”
“But would he know how, Second?” Halvor asked.
It was a good point. Likely not. Fae largely did not trust vampires, and few, if any, would have taught the elder such a valuable lesson. But if the elves were able to intercept…
“If what I understand is true,” Halvor went on, “Vlad is attempting just that. To capture her, I mean. Or was, until she burned him so badly he was forced to go underground.”
Romulus allowed himself one more moment of absolute shock. Allowed the acid to drip to the soles of his feet. After that, he let the guilt wash over him, sucking him under and dragging him down. He opened up to the intense suffering for his lost love and their infant, to the impossible situation he had unknowingly put his daughter in. He let the guilt corrode him, eating away like a maggot. And finally, he allowed himself to push all that aside. He possibly had a little girl out there who needed to join her family. She needed guidance, but first, she needed saving.
Romulus lunged up, swiping his hair from his face. Halvor stepped back to the door, firm and resolute once more. The situation had been laid bare, at last, and now they needed a solution and a path.
“What are my orders?” he asked.
“Find the girl and bring her here. Send someone who’s strong in both magic and fighting. Her most immediate danger is herself. Beyond that, keep her away from the elves and vampires—we must not let her become a pawn. If she is truly an Arcana, and my daughter, she must be steeped in our culture before we allow the elves access to her. They are our benefactors, but they may have to be reminded it is a contract, not an obligation. Finally, get our people training harder. Stage mock battles. Create a community competition. If this is a quest, the battle the prophet has foreseen will surely come to pass. We must be ready. No guardian will be left to stand on her own. We will be behind her when the Fates call.”