1 8: An Unlikely Ally
Mia and Kaian rode through the edge of Hollowridge, where the wind cut sharper than blades. They tracked rumors of a vampire feeding on rogue shifters and exiles. But when they found him, he wasn't hunting. He was running. The vampire darted across the ice-dusted clearing, cloak torn, a silver-tipped bolt embedded in his thigh.
Behind him, a hunter advanced—tall, cloaked, masked, carrying a sun-etched pike. Mia moved fast, knocking the weapon aside. Kaian disarmed him, swift and brutal. The hunter vanished into the woods, leaving the vampire half-conscious on the ground.
Mia knelt beside him. He had striking features—ashen hair, eyes like dying embers, and a scar bisecting his brow. He was Dayborn, a vampire who walked in daylight. His gaze flicked to Mia's pendant, still glowing faintly with the bloodbound sigil. His eyes widened. "That crest," he rasped. "Where did you get that?"
Mia frowned. "It was my mother's. Passed down. Why?" The vampire tried to sit, wincing in pain. "Because it belonged to House Elun'Kai. Luna-touched. Dayborn-blooded. That pendant was worn by Alira herself." Mia's heart stuttered. "You knew her?" He gave a weak laugh. "No. But I descend from those who did. My name is Elias."
Elias told Mia that she carried both the Luna legacy and the Sun-marked gift. "You're Dayborn," he said. "At least in part. Your blood carries both night and day." Kaian narrowed his eyes. "You expect us to believe that?" Elias looked directly at Mia. "When the fangs awaken, they don't respond to strength. They respond to balance."
Mia's thoughts raced. Her dreams. The visions. Her strange resistance to vampire glamours. Her ability to withstand silver longer than other wolves. Kaian looked at her, realization creeping across his face. "Mia," he said slowly. "You walked into direct sunlight after bonding the fang. No burns. No weakness."
Elias coughed blood, but grinned. "You don't just carry Alira's blood. You carry the hope she left behind." Mia paced outside the old healer's room, thoughts tangled. Dayborn vampires were supposed to be myth. If Elias was real, if she had even a trace of that legacy, then she wasn't just hybrid. She was bridge-born.
Meanwhile, the Queen stood before her private mirror, watching blood drip from a dagger into a black chalice. A shadowy figure emerged from the corner. "The girl survived the assassin," the shadow whispered. The Queen's eyes flashed. "Good. Let her. The deeper she walks into her legacy, the closer she comes to the edge." The shadow leaned in. "The Fangborn?" "Stirs," she said. "The bones are ready. We only need the final echo." She raised the chalice. The blood inside had begun to sing.
The Hollow, Candlelight
Elias sat at the war-table, wrapped in bandages, a bloodstone pendant clutched in his hand. Mia watched him quietly, the firelight casting golden lines across his scarred face. "They called us heresy," Elias said, breaking the silence. "Said that to walk in both sun and night was an abomination. But Alira believed otherwise. She believed the Dayborn were the key to healing what the war broke."
Mia studied him. "Were there others?" He nodded. "Once, dozens. Born in secret from pacts between wolves and the Daycourt—before the Night Purges. We served as guardians of the balance. Then the Queen turned the vampire lords against us. She feared what we could become." Mia frowned. "So she's done this before." Elias nodded. "She crushed the last attempt at peace. And she means to do worse now—with the Fangborn.