Bloodhoundhearts

The storm outside finally began to tire, the heavy rain turning into a soft, rhythmic drumming against the thatched roof. Inside the kitchen, the silence was heavy. Now that the immediate danger had passed, the weight of what had happened began to settle over them like a thick blanket of snow.

Mason and Mark had finished bracing the back door with heavy timber and a dresser. It was a temporary fix, but it kept the cold wind out. Their parents, Raymond and Amanda, had finally descended the stairs. Amanda was currently huddled in a corner with Beatrice and Hilary, who was sleeping soundly on a makeshift bed of blankets. Raymond stood by the hearth, his weathered face etched with a fear that had nothing to do with Orcs and everything to do with his youngest daughter.

Elena sat at the scarred wooden table, her head resting on her arms. Carlson sat across from her, his medical kit still open. He was watching her with a mix of devotion and worry, while Leah paced the small room, her hand never straying far from the hilt of her hunting knife.

"The light is still in the air," Leah whispered, glancing at the corners of the ceiling. "It feels like the house is holding its breath."

Suddenly, a soft, musical groan came from the corner of the room.

Everyone turned. Betty, the Fae woman, was finally stirring. The golden blood on her tunic had dried into a crust that looked like delicate embroidery. She pushed herself up against the wall, her movements fluid despite her exhaustion. When she opened her eyes, they weren't white or brown; they were a shimmering, liquid silver.

Her gaze skipped over the brothers, ignored the parents, and locked onto Elena.

"You," Betty whispered. Her voice sounded like the rustle of dry leaves in a sacred grove. "You are the one who felt the snap."

Elena lifted her head. "I don't know what I am. I just wanted my sister to live."

Betty let out a short, jagged laugh. She struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on the stones of the cold fireplace. "You wanted her to live, so you rewrote the laws of the physical world. You turned soldiers of the Shadow Court into vermin. Do you have any idea what that means, little moon?"

"Don't call her that," Carlson said, standing up. He moved to block Betty’s view of Elena, his protective instincts flaring. "She’s a girl from the valley. She’s my friend. Whatever magic happened tonight was an accident."

Betty looked at Carlson as if he were an interesting bug. "An accident? Magic like that is never an accident. It is an awakening. The Moon Goddess has been silent for five hundred years. Her temples are dust. Her songs are forgotten. And yet, here is her blood, sitting in a kitchen that smells of old potatoes."

Elena felt a shiver run down her spine. "The Moon Goddess? I’m just Elena. My father is Raymond, and my mother is Amanda. I was born in that room upstairs during a snowstorm."

Betty’s silver eyes softened, but there was a deep sadness in them. "The body is a vessel, child. Your parents gave you your flesh, but the soul? Your soul was hidden away before the first Vampire King took his throne. You were the missing spark. The prophecy said the Bloodhound would find the heart, but it did not say the heart would be ready to be found."

At the mention of the Bloodhound, the room grew even colder. Everyone in the kingdom knew that name. Prince Aiden was not just a royal; he was a legend of terror. They said he could smell a lie from ten miles away and that his shadow could move on its own to slit the throats of his enemies.

"He felt you," Betty continued, her voice growing urgent. "When you healed that girl, you lit a fire in the darkness. Every supernatural creature within a thousand leagues felt the pulse. The Orcs were just the first to arrive because they were already nearby. But the others... the bigger things... they are coming."

Raymond stepped forward, his voice gruff. "Then we leave. We head south to the coast. We can disappear in the ports."

"You cannot run from a Vampire who can track the scent of your soul, human," Betty said, her gaze returning to Elena. "And you certainly cannot run from the one who is tethered to you by fate."

Elena looked at her family. She saw the fear in her mother’s eyes and the exhaustion in her brothers' faces. She looked at Carlson, who was gripping the back of her chair so hard his knuckles were white.

"I won't let them hurt you," Elena said, her voice steadying. "If I can turn them into mice, I will turn a whole army into mice if I have to."

Betty shook her head. "The next ones won't be so easy. You used a raw burst of power, but you are empty now. I can see it. Your spirit is a dry well. If they come again tonight, we all die."

"Then what do we do?" Leah asked, her eyes sharp.

"We move," Betty said. "But not to the coast. We go deeper into the forest. There is a place where the Fae used to dance, a place where the veil is thin. I can mask your scent there for a few days. Just enough time for Elena to learn how to breathe without setting the sky on fire."

Meanwhile, in the Obsidian Castle, the mood had shifted from "dramatic" to "mildly annoyed."

Aiden was now fully dressed. He wore a high-collared black coat with silver buttons and boots that cost more than Elena’s entire village. He looked every bit the dark, brooding Prince of the Night.

He was standing by his window, staring toward the dark silhouette of the northern forest. The pull in his chest was constant now, a low hum that told him exactly which direction to go.

"The carriage is ready, My Lord," Silas announced, appearing in the doorway. "Though I must say, traveling at this hour is quite uncivilized. The bats will think we are being desperate."

Aiden didn't turn around. "She healed someone, Silas. Not just a scratch. She repaired a mortal wound with pure lunar light. If the High Council finds her before I do, they will put her in a cage and use her like a battery."

"Or," Silas added helpfully, "they will kill her to keep the balance of power. People are quite boring that way."

Aiden’s jaw tightened. "I am not going for the power, Silas."

Silas raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why are we bringing the velvet-lined traveling cloak? And why did you spend ten minutes making sure your hair looked 'perfectly disheveled'?"

Aiden turned, giving his butler a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone. "I am going because the prophecy says her heart belongs to the Bloodhound. And I am the Bloodhound."

"And you've been lonely for five centuries," Silas muttered under his breath. "It’s alright to admit you want a girlfriend, Sire. No need to blame the stars for everything."

Aiden ignored him and swept past, his cloak billowing behind him. As he walked through the grand hall, he passed a tall, slender woman leaning against a pillar. She had golden hair and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Going somewhere, Aiden?" she asked, her voice like silk over a trap.

Aiden didn't stop. "None of your business, Ramela."

Ramela, the shapeshifting maid who held more power than she let on, watched him leave with a thoughtful expression. She flicked her tongue over her teeth, her eyes momentarily turning into yellow slits.

"A moon daughter," Ramela whispered to the empty hall. "How very inconvenient for my plans."

She shifted her form, her body shrinking and fur sprouting from her skin. Within seconds, a sleek, gray fox trotted out of a side door, vanishing into the night just as Aiden’s carriage began to roll.