Bloodline Chapter 31: If We Survived The Great War, a darren shan saga/cirque du freak fanfic

Okay even by my standards this is a really busy chapter. I edited it as much as I could emotionally bring myself to, and we're still weighing in at almost 17k words. I'm so sorry.

Chapter 31: If We Survived The Great War

Song:The Great War by Taylor Swift (Midnights 3am Edition. Obviously.)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls

Cursed you as I sleep talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down

Took the battle underground

And maybe it was egos swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

36 HOURS POST-WAR:

Gracie sat on the foot of the infirmary bed, nodding numbly as Mika recounted every detail from the death limbo realm he'd drifted into and out of. Now that the shock was wearing off, what she wanted now more than ever was to see the faces of her human parents as Mika had. To talk to them. To catch a glimpse at who she could've been.

Gracie fought the urge to ask Mika to describe their faces a third time. He would've gone back over the details as many times as she wanted, but his injuries were extreme and his tough front was starting to crack.

"I don't know what kind of life they envisioned for you while they were alive. I'm sure it didn't look anything like this. But I know they're as proud of you as we are." Kurda broke his silence.

"They were. I could see it in their eyes." Mika affirmed. He faltered as he added, "The night we found you, I… I remember exactly where your mother was. It was… as if she'd been blocking the hallway where your room was. She protected you til the end."

Gracie said nothing. Half of her wished she never knew. The other half took bittersweet comfort in it. She'd always assumed her human parents loved her fiercely, because isn't that a given? But there was something about having a shred of visceral proof that it was real.

They were due for some sleep; all three of them. They played cards instead. It was another hour before the outside world disturbed the sanctuary they'd found in this drafty old infirmary room. First, a patter of approaching footsteps in the hallway, then a decisive squeak as the door handle twisted. Duty calls.

"Gods, what now?" Mika muttered under his breath.

Kurda's mouth twisted into an apologetic grimace-smile. "This was me, sorry. I mind-linked with Vancha and asked him to gather the troops and meet us up here."

Mika didn't have time to question him. Arrow was the first one through the door. He wasn't alone - Vancha, Gannen, Shane, and Larten filed in behind him. Suddenly the room seemed much smaller.

Mika greeted the band of familiar faces with an unenthusiastic half-wave. "Oh good. I was just wishing I was at work right now."

"You speak with sarcasm, but everything I've learned about you suggests you mean it." Gannen remarked drily.

"It's good to see you alive and fairly well." Vancha added. He was far more subdued than usual as he squeezed Mika's uninjured shoulder. "As triumphant as you would have been in death, your work here isn't done."

"Noted. Thanks."

Arrow tried to speak. But for a man who carried himself with such gruff bravado, he was at a total loss. All that came out were strangled gulps as he sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around Mika. To be fair, it was Arrow's first time seeing his best friend awake and coherent since the battle and he almost certainly hadn't had a chance to fully decompress yet. Which meant everything was only just hitting him right now. Arrow's face was hidden, but his massive shoulders were shaking with barely-muffled sobs. Mika patted Arrow's back with his one good arm, reassuring him over and over again - "It's okay, A. We did it. We're okay."

Gannen and Shane exchanged covert looks; no doubt telepathically musing over the hell they were witnessing. Gannen didn't look much healthier than Mika, but politely declined the chair Kurda offered him.

Vancha sat down on the foot of the bed as if settling in for the long haul. Larten kept to the corner, pale face unreadable as always. There was only one Prince unaccounted for. It wasn't difficult to guess where Darren was.

Gracie knew she was about to be politely dismissed so the big vampires could talk in private. Apparently this meeting couldn't wait for the medics to release Mika from what he unaffectionately referred to as jail. She caught Kurda's eye and mouthed "see you later".

She slipped to her room to change into fresh clothes before heading towards the top of the mountain. The cleanup effort was still in full swing and the guard presence had tripled. The doors to the Hall of Princes had been left open so the staff could come and go with the wagons of debris they were hauling. Generals Renley Azerion and Kaden Hale were stationed pointedly in the doorway, screening everyone who came in and out. They stood back as Gracie entered the room, but she paused at the checkpoint.

"You're fine. Go ahead in." Said Renley. He was being respectful, and Gracie would've let it slide if there hadn't been so many others milling around. She'd never been subjected to the customary security check as a human. But the last thing she needed as a brand new vampire was for her peers to think her adoptive surname placed her above the rules.

"Remember what happened last time they skipped my screening? Better safe than sorry." She replied offhandedly.

"Fair enough." Kaden chuckled. Her eyes twinkled as she stepped forward to perform the screening, and Gracie could tell she got it.

The throne platform was crawling with builders repairing the damaged areas. Darren was sitting on one of the front pews. He looked better than he did last night, but that wasn't saying a lot. He was hunched wearily and nodding along as a couple of Seba's men updated him on the cleanup status.

"You look like shit." Gracie remarked as she approached. One of the supervisors shot her a funny look, but his face turned apologetic when he realized who she was. There it was again. The unspoken public perception that Mika Ver Leth's nepotism baby was an actual rank they were obligated to recognize. But as much as she wanted the world to understand that wasn't the case, in this moment she cared more about making Darren laugh. Or smile. Anything would've been an improvement.

"Right. Sorry." She added, straight-faced. "You look like shit, Sire Shan."

Darren peered over at her. He still looked like a shell of himself, but some of the light returned to his green eyes as he laughed.

"You look…." He tried to clap back. But wit was not on his side and paused to dig for a comeback, only to settle on "…worse."

Gracie bumped Darren's shoulder as she sat down beside him. "Sick burn. How are you holding up?"

"A little better. I snuck away for a nap while Arrow took over for a bit. You?"

"Not bad. Slept for a couple hours while I was waiting for my dads to wake up."

"Ah. The medics told me they were both conscious again. How are they doing?"

"They've had better days, but I've still got two of them." She laughed as she said it, but it died in her throat as she remembered she didn't actually have two dads. She started with one. Destiny stepped in with two more. That made three. And a mom. Because even in death, her first parents never truly left her. The notion was still raw. She steered the conversation elsewhere. "Anyway, I left when Vancha and the others turned up for the official debrief or whatever they're doing. Figured I'd find you sitting in here. Where'd Darius go?"

"He went to get some sleep at the same time I did. I put a hammock in my room for him… he was afraid to be alone. But he was still out cold when Harkat came to wake me, so I left him there. Harkat stayed with him. They seem to get along." Darren took a deep breath, and seemed to age another ten years before the air left his lungs. "And thank the gods for that, because I have no idea what to say to him right now."

Gracie sighed and raked her fingers through her hair as she stared up at the throne platform, watching the builders go about their work, but not processing what they were doing.

"Fuck, he's too young to be here." She muttered at last. "I know we're too young to be here. But he's like… really too young to be here."

Darren shot her a curious look. "You were here when you were a baby."

"I still got to grow up human, go to school and everything. And eventually I got to choose. It's not the same."

"I'm going to get him back to Annie." Darren murmured. "He'll leave with me when I go on the mission with Vancha and the others in a few weeks. I hate to even wait that long but it'll be safer to travel with a group of full-bloods. But I'm not going to a single official meeting until he's home safe." He spoke in monotone, almost robotically, eyes fixed on the Stone of Blood shimmering at the front of the room. Gracie got the impression he wasn't addressing her so much as reassuring himself.

She bumped his shoulder again. "You're exactly what he needs right now. You're doing better than you think."

Darren nodded numbly, still staring at the Stone. He didn't speak for a long time, and Gracie didn't attempt to fill the silence.

"I met with Seba a little while ago." He said eventually. "He's getting the cremation hall ready. For… for…" his voice caught in his throat and trailed off.

"It's okay. I know who you mean."

"Right. I asked him not to tell anyone. I don't want to make a big deal out of it. I know not everyone will understand. I don't even understand." Darren continued in an undertone, fighting to get the words out. "But once the hall is ready… I'm going. To say goodbye. Might as well get it over with while everyone else is distracted."

Gracie automatically tensed at the idea of giving him any sort of respectful send off, and for a moment she almost said something she would've regretted. She silently thanked the quiet voice in her head that told her to consider her words a moment longer.

"You going by yourself?" She asked.

"Yeah. Gannen didn't feel it was his place to attend. And it's too much for Darius. That leaves me."

"No Larten?"

"I didn't ask him. Steve would've hated him being there." Darren laughed. The sound was harsh and cold and so unlike him.

"To be fair, Steve doesn't get a say at this point." Gracie kept her voice even and unchallenging, even though the name was sour on her tongue. "It's about who you want with you for -"

"I don't want Mr. Crepsley there either." Darren cut her off. Gruffly, and very so un-Darrenlike. But there it was. Gracie knew cold, hard truth when she heard it.

"Ah. You going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"You have a pretty good track record of being okay, all things considered. But if you need someone there… I've got nothing else going on tonight."

Darren did a double-take to look directly at her, and just like that he was Darren again. His bright green eyes were wide and earnest as he shook his head firmly.

"No way. He hurt you and your family. It means enough that you're sitting here listening to me. I couldn't ask you to come to his funeral. It wouldn't be fair."

"I mean… I sure as fuck wouldn't be going for him, no offence. But you're my friend. You shouldn't be alone for that."

"It's okay. Don't worry about me - that's an order." Darren insisted.

Gracie narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but Darren beat her to it. He raised an eyebrow and added sardonically, "An order is when someone with authority tells you to do something, and you have to do it."

It took everything in her not to laugh. Every now and then, Darren does in fact whip out a certified sick burn.

"Wow. Learn something new every day." She noted, straight-faced. "Guess I'll leave you to it. Any chance you might need a strong drink waiting for you when it's all said and done?"

His face lit up. The first true Darren smile in at least 48 hours.

"A strong drink would be bloody brilliant."

"Say no more. Meet me in the spider cave."

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember, uh-huh

Tears on the letter, I vowed

Not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

40 HOURS POST-WAR:

Darren thought he was ready. Surely it couldn't hurt more than the moment Steve died in his fucking arms. He broke down again, too tired to wince at how ugly his own sobs sounded as they echoed back at him. If a noble Vampire Prince cries in an empty room behind a closed door, does he actually make a sound? Or however that metaphor goes.

He let himself weep for a minute or two before taking a few deep breaths and half-gathering himself. Gripped Steve's icy hand. Reminded himself he hadn't come down here to pay any sort of respect to the Vampaneze Lord. He was here for the little boy who was too young to put up a fair fight against the demons that followed him around. And it was that little boy who Darren addressed when he'd finally found his voice.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry I left you there. You were just a kid. You didn't deserve that."

The torch was right there. All he had to do was lift it from the bracket and set it beneath the pyre. The arrangement of dry kindling would take care of the rest. Not to mention Steve's body had been left intact on Darren's orders. At least his soul would still have a chance to find somewhere better than this. And maybe Darren would meet him there someday.

He reached for the torch, but stopped.

"Darius is going to be okay." He added. "I'm going to bring him home. I… I don't know how long he'll be able to stay in the human world. I couldn't handle it after I was blooded. But you already knew that. It'll be different for Darius, though. He'll have me. He won't have to keep it a secret like I did. Eventually he'll have to… return to the clan. Learn how to be a vampaneze. But maybe he can be a normal kid for a while. He deserves a chance to try."

Darren paused for breath, casting his gaze around the shadowy room, grateful for the silence here. The only sound was the crackling torches and his own shallow breathing. He steadied himself and continued:

"I want to believe you loved him. I keep telling myself the part of you that put him in danger was driven by Mr. Tiny. But I don't know. Maybe you weren't capable of loving someone. Or maybe you just didn't understand how, because nobody ever taught you. But no matter what happens, I'm going to make sure he's safe. I promise."

The rest of the world seemed so far away from down here in the Hall of Cremation. Suddenly his heart was pounding and the walls were closing in and the only thought in his mind was how wrong he'd been to think he could handle this alone. How badly he wished he'd brought someone. Anyone. Harkat, Vancha, Gracie, Seba, even Mr. Crepsley.

Torrential tears were rolling down both cheeks but he couldn't hold off any longer. Trancelike, he reached out and closed his hand around the flickering torch. Lifted it from the bracket. Paused at the vague but undeniable sensation of eyes on him. Glanced over his shoulder, wondering if the Guardians of the Blood were getting antsy.

Kurda was standing in the doorway in a way that would've looked awkward if it had been anyone else. His arms hung loose at his sides, hands tucked in his pockets. He wasn't smiling, but the ever-present light in his eyes shone as brightly now as it had the night Darren met him.

"I'm not eavesdropping. I promise. I just got here." Said Kurda quickly.

"It's alright." Said Darren as he turned around, brushing tears off his face. "How- how'd you know I was -"

"Gracie. She didn't outright ask me to go check on you, but I read between the lines." Kurda explained with a rueful smile as he drew even with Darren. "I know you said you were fine to handle this on your own… but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least check."

Darren couldn't speak. Just stood there, mouth agape.

"Do you want me to leave?" Kurda added, brow creased in a kind of concern that could only be described as paternal. And for one dizzying second, Darren felt a long-forgotten but very acute pain shoot through his heart as he realized how badly he wanted his dad. Not Mr. Crepsley. His real dad. And his mom. And the most gut-wrenching part? They were still out there somewhere, believing they buried their son.

"No." Darren blurted out, shaking his head frantically. "Don't leave. I'm- I'm glad you're here."

He managed that small amount of coherence before the world around him went black as years of suppressed grief came bubbling to back the surface. Suddenly Kurda was right there beside him and Darren was crying into his chest. Crying harder than he'd ever cried in his life, so hard his bones ached and his lungs burned. It felt endless. But if Kurda had other pressing commitments on his schedule for the light, he didn't let on. He just stayed.

Once the pyre was lit, it wasn't nearly as gut-wrenching as Darren expected. Maybe it was a red flag that his emotional regulatory system was fucked beyond repair, but as the flames rose higher he felt a strange peace wash over him. He supposed that was acceptance. Or relief that this part would soon be just another awful memory in his (already impressive) collection.

"Thank you." Darren broke the silence at last, glancing up at Kurda.

Kurda smiled. Strained but genuine. Always genuine. "It was the least I could do. I commend your independence, and I get why you didn't bring Larten along. But I hated the thought of you sitting down here alone."

"I mean for what you did in the battle. I… I could've killed Steve. But as the moment arrived, I realized I didn't want him to die. I knew someone had to kill him, otherwise the clans would never know peace. I just… I wish none of this happened, you know?"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Darren." Kurda murmured, squeezing Darren's shoulder. "He was family to you once. He was far from innocent, but life was cruel to him. Destiny was cruel to him. But in all that cruelty, he found kindness in you. Take comfort in that."

"Thank you." Darren repeated softly. He didn't know what else to say.

The fire was dying down. Soon there'd be nothing left but ash. And Darren didn't care how fucked up it was. He'd gently put those ashes in an urn and keep it somewhere safe. He'd never tell anyone. Aside from Darius, eventually. But not yet.

Darren looked up as Kurda stretched his arms, sighed, and wandered over to the small bench by the wall. He sat down there, running his hands through his hair pensively.

"I need to tell you something, Darren." Said Kurda after a moment.

Darren stiffened. "What now?"

"My last minute intervention wasn't just to spare your feelings. I'm glad I could take that burden off your shoulder but… that wasn't what drove me to step between you and Steve when I did."

"What do you mean?"

The faraway look in Kurda's eyes reminded Darren far too much of the moment he interrupted the investiture ceremony seven years ago. Darren couldn't place what exactly was similar. The emotion on Kurda's face was completely different. But there was still a haunted resignation about him.

"I don't blame you if you don't believe me. But a few moments before I killed Steve, I saw Evanna."

"Evanna was in the Hall of Princes?! How? When?!" Darren demanded, jaw dropping.

"She wasn't actually there. Or maybe she was. I don't know. She's powerful enough to be wherever she wants." Kurda explained. "But it was as if she paused time. I'd just pulled Mika's sword on Jakob Wiles. Mika was protecting Gracie. I was protecting both of them. But I looked into Wiles' eyes as I tried to kill him."

Kurda paused. Closed his eyes for a moment. Exhaled shakily. Carried on.

"And it hit me all over again. I can't differentiate between killing someone who's done awful things, and killing someone innocent. By all accounts Wiles deserved to die for what he did. But the moment I knew I'd fatally wounded him, I felt sickened by what I'd done. I… I felt the same as I did when I killed Gavner."

Darren flinched at the name. Time hadn't healed that wound, but it had allowed him the maturity to understand it hurt Kurda just as much. If not more.

"Wiles was nothing like Gavner!" Darren spat, shaking his head. "Gavner was in the wrong place at the wrong time! There'll always be a part of me that can't forgive you for that… but I know why you didn't have a choice in the moment. Wiles was a true traitor. He deserved what he got!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Darren. That's how I felt. I can't change it."

"I'm sorry. Keep going."

"Evanna came to me as I was kneeling over Wiles's dying body. It was as if time froze. I saw this nightmare hellscape… a sea of blood, thousands of people dying in it, a dragon flying through the sky setting the world on fire. And this… this monster riding on its back. Evanna told me that was the Lord of the Shadows."

"Who?!"

Kurda chuckled ominously. "Funny you should ask."

"What does that mean?"

"Desmond Tiny only revealed his prophecy piece by piece. There was more he never told us. I think he meant for you to figure it out further down the line… but I guess I really screwed up his plans when I didn't die like I was supposed to. Like way more than I originally thought."

"There was more?!"

"It was supposed to be the end of the world. All of this. You and Steve were his key pawns from the start. One of you was always meant to kill the other. That was Desmond's design. And whoever won your final showdown… he'd turn into the monster I saw. The Lord of the Shadows. And no matter if it was you or Steve… the Lord of the Shadows would destroy not only the opposing clan, but his own. But he'd never be able to stop at the vampires and vampaneze. He wouldn't stop until the entire world had been destroyed."

Darren's stomach dropped, and he couldn't keep himself from shouting back, "That's impossible! I wouldn't do that, Kurda! You know me!"

"Of course I know you." Said Kurda calmly. "But if you'd killed Steve, you'd have unknowingly become the Lord of the Shadows. You wouldn't be Darren anymore. Your grief would've torn you apart. And if Steve killed you… same thing. His bloodlust was already insatiable, and it would've increased a hundredfold."

"So somebody else had to step in and kill one of us to keep the Lord of the Shadows from being born. That's why you did it."

"Yes and no. It couldn't be just anybody. If another vampire or vampaneze intervened and killed either of you, they'd become the Lord of the Shadows instead. And the world would be doomed all the same." Kurda explained.

That did nothing to undo the hot panic rising up from Darren's core. "Then what was the point of all this?! What was the point of making both clans going to war? Pitting me and Steve against each other if the outcome was going to be the same either way?!"

Kurda didn't match his energy. His face remained the picture of sad serenity. "I can't answer that. Desmond's thought processes are far beyond our mortal reasoning abilities, I'm afraid."

"You're wrong. It's not that complicated." Darren croaked out bitterly. "He just wants to watch people suffer. That's all there is to it."

"I think you're on to something. And you wouldn't be the only one. Evanna knew of her father's twisted plans and made some of her own. Decades ago. She is the reason we found Gracie. And Gracie is the reason Mika blocked what would've inevitably been an execution sentence for me. The reason I was still alive to do what I did. It all comes back to Evanna."

"She was working with Mr. Tiny?"

"Not quite. Evanna doesn't share his interest in sadism. She told me there was only one being that could take on the Lord of the Shadows without being destroyed… a Phoenix, she called it. I couldn't see this Phoenix in the vision, but there was a flash of golden fire behind me. Brighter than anything I've seen in my life. And for the first time the dragon seemed to falter. The monster on its back stopped laughing. It feared the Phoenix, because it knew the Phoenix didn't fear it."

Darren felt a chill run down his spine. Every hair stood on end as he stared slackjawed back at Kurda. "It was you… wasn't it?"

"You're quick, Darren. I was met with a line of blank stares when I told this story an hour ago. Thank the gods we have your deductive reasoning skills at the helm of our clan." Kurda forced a laugh, but comedy was the last thing on Darren's mind.

"Not exactly!" He fired back, shaking his head. "I don't understand any of this! So you became this Phoenix creature to kill Steve?!"

"I'm still working on understanding it myself. There's no literal Phoenix. All I know is that Evanna believed I was capable of absorbing the destructive power of the Lord of the Shadows… without being corrupted by it. And so far so good, I guess." Kurda finished wryly.

Darren let out a low whistle of disbelief. For a moment he just sat there, head spinning, heart racing.

"So all the other Princes know?" He asked eventually.

"Yes. Larten, Gannen, and Shane too. I told them everything at our meeting, just before I came here. I'm sorry about the timing. I'm sure this is the last thing you needed weighing on your mind. But I wanted you to hear it from me."

"Wow. So you really did screw Mr. Tiny over by surviving. He wanted a dragon-riding Lord of the Shadows and got a Phoenix instead. What a rip-off."

Kurda cracked a wayward smile. "I've been told on multiple occasions I'm a bit of a public nuisance. I don't know what Desmond expected."

"Maybe it means you'll still be a Prince one day." Said Darren, without pausing to consider his words.

Kurda's smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. He shook his head. "I don't know, Darren. Sometimes I still don't feel I deserve to be back here."

"And I think it's because you still feel that way, even after everything you've been through… that's why it had to be you." Darren offered. He almost left it at that, but he'd never been one to hold his tongue. Especially when he meant it with every fibre of his being: "And for what it's worth, I'd still give you my throne if I could. You'd make better use of it than I can."

Kurda shook his head even more firmly, his blue gaze seeming to pierce right through Darren's soul. "Don't you dare discredit yourself. You deserve your throne more than any who've come before you."

"I'm going to tell Mika you said that." Darren managed to laugh weakly. It wasn't funny. Nothing had been funny in a long time. But he didn't know what else to do.

Kurda seemed to be on the same page, eyes alight with benevolent mischievousness once more.

"Oh, he's aware."

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed

Drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire

You were playing with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talking

Screaming from the crypt

Telling me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

2 DAYS POST-WAR:

Mika found himself craving solitude as the medics clustered around him, but made a concerted effort not to resent them. They were good vampires who were good at their jobs. Which was to keep him healthy and functional enough to do his job. It wasn't their fault he had issues. So he answered their questions and held still while they examined the stitches and cleaned all the wounds too severe for vampire spit to heal.

When Kurda materialized in the doorway, Mika could only assume this was exactly how a mirage appears before a dying man in the desert. His heart lurched so hard he could practically feel it pushing against the line of stitches holding him together. With the mountain in shambles he hadn't expected to see Kurda til at least tomorrow. But, as he reminded himself, there'd never been a time when Kurda hadn't kept him on his toes. Mika supposed he should just accept this was the reality he lived in.

"Hey, Sunshine. How you feeling?" Kurda asked as he sat down on the cot beside Mika, snack tray in hand.

"Better." Mika replied honestly.

"You look better."

"Are you here to get me out of this room?"

"Easy. You don't look that much better. Made any medics cry yet?"

"I've been on my best behaviour. Figured I should start being nicer to people. You never know who's planning a coup." Said Mika with complete seriousness as he picked up a strip of cured meat. It wasn't til the first bite he realized how painfully hungry he'd been.

Meanwhile, Kurda grimaced. "Your sense of humour is truly broken, you know that?"

Mika studied Kurda as he nibbled his snack. There were dark shadows beneath Kurda's eyes and his skin and clothes were still covered in dirt and blood. Whatever he'd been doing in the last few hours, it hadn't involved taking care of himself. But to Mika he still glowed like a guardian angel of the highest order.

"And how are you feeling?" Mika inquired.

"Little tired. But good."

"Come on, Kurda. You haven't been out of politics that long. You can lie better than that."

Mika was expecting an exasperated smile and maybe a halfhearted retort. He wasn't expecting to watch Kurda crumble from the inside out, hunching over with his head in hands and his tousled hair obscuring his face.

"It's fine. Just been a long night." Kurda mumbled into his hands. Mika reached out and gently pushed the platinum strands back, tucking them behind Kurda's ear for a better view of his face.

"Kurda… talk to me."

"I went to look for Darren, to tell him what I told the rest of you. He wasn't in the Hall of Princes. Gracie said he went to the cremation by himself." Kurda blurted out at last, tripping over the words like springwater on pebbles down a mountainside.

"What cremation? The funerals aren't til-" The words died on Mika's lips. Of course Kurda wasn't referring to the vampires who fell in the battle. His heart sank at the hollowness in Kurda's face. Gods, if there was anyone here tonight who deserved to feel even a modicum of triumph, surely it had to be Kurda. But all Mika saw was defeat. Kurda seemed to be staring not at Mika, but straight through him.

"He was a kid. I killed a kid." Kurda rasped. "I know I didn't have a choice. But when I close my eyes, I see his face. I see all of them. Everyone who died because of me."

"Stop it. Don't do that to yourself. It's over." Mika whispered, trying to catch Kurda's eye and pull his focus before he spiralled. Gods knew Mika knew all about that. "You didn't have a choice. Look at me."

Kurda blinked several times, but slowly lifted his head to meet Mika's gaze.

"I've always known you were our Phoenix. Not in those words, but I knew you were built for something more. That part makes sense to me." Mika added quietly.

"Phoenixes don't exist." Kurda groaned. "It's a metaphor for -"

"I know it's a metaphor, Kurda. I'm trying to tell you that to me, you're still you."

"You're taking this really well." Kurda sniffled at last. Finally a faint sparkle flickering to life in those pensive blues.

"I've handled much worse surprises. Phoenix Lord doesn't even crack the top five."

"Technically I'm still the Lord of the - never mind. You don't care."

Mika laughed hollowly. "I care a great deal. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do about it from a professional standpoint. I'm starting to think I should just mind my own business and let you handle things."

For the first time since walking into the room Kurda seemed to relax. But it was clear he didn't want to talk about Evanna any more than he already had. Which was fine by Mika. They reclined side-by-side, propped up by pillows, fingers intertwined. If only it could all be this simple. But he knew better. Mika closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Kurda?"

"Mika?" Kurda echoed as he lazily stroked the back of Mika's hand with his thumb. But there was a quiet resignation about him, and Mika knew Kurda knew exactly what was coming next. They got so close earlier. Then Gracie woke up and the chance disappeared. But there was no point pretending they hadn't both fired those three words at each other through their mental link in the darkest hour.

"I meant it, you know." Mika whispered.

Kurda squeezed Mika's hand and answered without hesitation. "I know. Me too."

"And I know we still can't go back down that road right now. The battle didn't change anything." Mika added quickly, because he already knew Kurda was thinking it. "We can't afford to gamble with our feelings as long as there's a chance the clans will be collateral damage. All I wanted was for you to know I meant what I said, and I don't regret saying it. Because it was almost the last time."

"I don't regret it either." Said Kurda, as easily as if they were just discussing the weather. Suddenly the math seemed fuzzy. Mika leaned back a little, scrutinizing Kurda's face trying to figure out where things had stopped adding up.

"…You don't?"

Kurda looked just as confused as Mika felt. "How could I? It's you."

All it took was those five simple words to flip the switch. Suddenly Mika no longer felt worthy of Kurda's arms. Much less his oxygen. How dare Kurda let him off that easily? Mika sat up slowly, but it was too much for his battered body. He winced in pain and Kurda quickly moved to steady him. Mika wished he had the strength to pull away from the hand of the angel stroking his back.

"What hurts?" Kurda murmured, low and urgent. "Want me to get a medic?"

"No, Kurda. I just… Fuck. When Jakob put the blame on you, I didn't... I didn't even think about it. ! I knew better and I still took his word over yours." Mika forced out through the burning gravel in his throat. "I felt like it was seven years ago and I was watching your trial all over again. I fucking hate that my mind still went there, but I couldn't control it. I should've been the one standing up for you like Vancha did. But I didn't accept the truth until I heard it from Ren. How could you possibly mean it after that?"

A ringing silence followed Mika's words. Kurda let out a long sigh. There was neither bitterness nor resentment in his eyes. Only simple acceptance.

"I won't lie and say it didn't hurt when you doubted me. But that instinct was a testament to how deeply I hurt you. I can't begrudge you for that." Kurda answered patiently. "I'll never stop trying to earn your trust back. But I'll never feel entitled to it."

Gods, he really wasn't getting this. Mika shook his head, desperate to make Kurda understand. "You've already earned it all back! I do trust you. It's not your fault I'm still.… " His voice finally cracked. He couldn't handle the thought of Kurda punishing himself for the sins of the past. Not after that.

"You want to trust me. You're trying to trust me. You're not ready yet. But I know how hard you're trying, Mika. I promise I know." Kurda offered. His voice was soft as silk, sweet as honey, and impossibly patient. He was still running his palm in intoxicating circles across Mika's back. He hadn't stopped.

"I think it's me I'm trying to trust again." Said Mika at last. "I just need time. And space."

"Want me to leave?"

"I didn't mean right now."

"Good."

"With the positions both clans are in, It's better for everyone if we give each other some space." Mika added, more steadily than before.

"You're right. We don't have the luxury of experimenting with our feelings at a time like this. There's too much at stake." Kurda affirmed. "It's for the best that I'm leaving for a few years. And it won't be like last time. It'll be the start of something good."

"I'll focus on getting my shit together so I can be what the clan needs me to be. And you'll carry out your mission with a clear head, without all my issues weighing you down. You… you deserve better than who I am right now." Mika faltered and his voice trailed off when he saw Kurda's jaw had abruptly gone slack. "What? What's wrong?"

Kurda was staring back at Mika with heartbreak in his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gods, Mika... you think that's the reason I can't be with you? You think I'd hold that over your head?"

"I don't think you're holding anything over my head." Mika countered, caught off-guard by Kurda's reaction. "But the hard truth is that I didn't believe you when it counted, so I understand why you -"

"No. Just stop. Don't you dare blame yourself, you hear me?" Kurda cut him off. He spoke with such sobering forcefulness it didn't occur to Mika not to shut up and listen. "This is bigger than us. Until I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I've earned my reputation back, I refuse to compromise yours. That's why I can't go there with you now. It's not your fucking fault, Mika."

Unlike Mika, Kurda rarely swore. When he did, it only ever came from a place of deep emotion. So even though it was a word Mika regularly incorporated into his own vocabulary, hearing it from Kurda's lips made his heart clench.

"The last thing you need to worry about is my reputation! You killed the Vampaneze Lord! I'll work through my issues, but you don't owe the clan anything! They don't get to tell me who you are." Mika snapped back, blood running hot at the mere notion that someone, anyone might have the nerve to pass judgement on Kurda ever again.

"Yes they do! Where was your Sire Ver Leth privilege when I had to watch as you and your so-called untouchable colleagues - and our daughter - were lined up for execution by our own? All because you let me back in? Don't you dare look me in the eye and tell me their opinion doesn't matter." Kurda was shaking by the time he paused for breath. He hadn't raised his voice, but it was undercut with such plaintive desperation Mika wished he'd have yelled instead.

Mika had no desire to fill the silence. He didn't think he could've strung together a coherent sentence if his life depended on it.

"You're who the clan looks to in times of uncertainty." Kurda added after steadying himself. "And if they're ever going to see me standing beside you… I need to know they aren't thinking less of you because of me. So if that night ever comes, that's when I'll know I'm ready."

The truth hit Mika like a bag of bricks. He would've given anything for that to not be the reason. But there was no point debating it. Kurda was right. And with all that out in the open, he truly didn't know if he felt better or worse for it.

"That night's coming. Maybe in ten years. Maybe a hundred. I don't care." Mika vowed, fighting for every single word. "Someday they'll welcome you home like the hero you are. And maybe by then I'll be able to look at you without thinking about that night. That's how I'll know I'm ready too." His throat closed up and speaking became impossible. But Kurda heard the words Mika couldn't say, and answered them:

"I am never giving up on you, Mika."

They sat in silence for some time. In the span of one conversation, Mika felt like he'd climbed to the top of the mountain and fallen all the way down. And he hadn't even left the fucking infirmary bed.

"Hey. Lie back down before you tip over, yeah?" Kurda suggested. "You look a little dizzy."

Mika was in no position to disagree "You know, we never officially broke up in the first place, right?" He mumbled, finally finding his voice again as Kurda nudged him back into his nest of pillows and blankets.

"I figured it was implied when I committed high treason and you ordered my exile."

"It was. But we never actually said we were breaking up."

"Does that mean we're breaking up now?"

"We probably should, right?"

"I think at this point we kind of have to."

"Clean slate?"

"Clean slate."

"Consider yourself dumped, I guess."

"Thanks for letting me down so gently. I barely felt a thing."

They were so close. They almost made it to the end with their respective composure intact. Then Kurda closed his eyes and inhaled in that shuddering, telltale way, sending Mika's train of thought careening off the rails and crashed in a flaming heap of wreckage.

"No. Fuck, Kurda. Don't. Please don't cry. Not now. You know I can't fucking handle it when you -"

Too little, too late. At least the door was closed. They just lay there in the too-small infirmary bed that was barely wide enough for one adult, let alone two. Forehead to forehead, alternating between freefalling tears and helpless laughter.

When it eventually subsided Mika felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't have to ask if Kurda felt it too - he looked younger than he had in years. Kurda reached across the space between them and tenderly wiped Mika's tears with his thumb. But when Mika reciprocated the gesture he had to use his left arm - the bad one - because his good one was cradling the back of Kurda's head. Mika went about it with the purest intentions, but his muscle control and range of motion left something to be desired. Kurda let out a snort of laughter that was almost as messy as Mika's attempt to clean his face.

"Wow. Yes. Thank you for grazing my eyeball with your massive, filthy, bloody hand that hasn't been washed in a day and a half!" Kurda snorted inelegantly as he pushed Mika's hand away and finished the job with his own sleeve.

"I'd take a shower if the medics would let me out of this prison cell!" Mika protested.

"I thought you were the boss!"

"I thought you said I had to listen to the medics!"

"Mika?"

"What?"

"For the love of the gods! Shut up, close your eyes, and go to sleep before I smother you with this pillow."

"That's not very pacifist of - you know what, never mind. I was tired anyway."

"I suppose I should get going. I have to meet with Gannen and Shane later."

"What are you waiting for? Get out of here. I'll be fine."

"Of course you will be. You always are." Kurda paused as if deep in thought, then added, "…But I do have a vivid memory of you bedridden with the Vampire Flu and escaping the infirmary for some stupid meeting. I found you staggering down the corridor, clinging to the wall to keep yourself from falling on your face. Gods, I can't believe that was over twenty years ago. But I think maybe I should stick around… in case you were getting any ideas."

"You're right. I was literally just thinking about making a break for it." Mika replied seriously. "Thank the gods you were here to stop me."

Kurda laughed as he readjusted the blankets and rested his head on Mika's good shoulder. Mika closed his eyes and breathed it all in. Committing it to memory in case someday never came. He'd remember the way Kurda smelled like pine needles and fresh parchment. How his silky platinum hair tickled. How quietly he breathed. How warm he was. How Mika loved him so much it almost didn't matter if he ever said it out loud again. Words never did it justice anyway.

The last thing he heard before drifting off was Kurda's voice. Soft and steady as a mountain stream - singing. Mika hadn't heard Kurda sing since Gracie was the age where children like being sung to, over two decades ago now. She was always reluctant to nap when she was little. There was just so much going on and she didn't want to miss any of it. But Kurda had an easy fix. It worked on Gracie then, and it worked on Mika now.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were closer

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember, uh-huh

The burning embers, I vowed

Not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

FIVE DAYS POST-WAR:

"Osric and Markus died trying to protect the Vampaneze Elders from our own men. When they realized their once-trusted friend Jakob Wiles had been plotting against us, they didn't hesitate to do the right thing. They put their lives on the line to protect the progress we've made. And they paid the ultimate price."

The medics had strongly advised Mika against attending the funerals. It's too soon, they said. We practically pulled a bullet out of your heart three nights ago, they said. Fine, do what you want, you're the boss, but we're not reanimating your corpse a second time, they said.

Nothing would keep Mika from delivering this eulogy. Kurda could tell he was still in pain, but his voice carried as well as it did at the best of times. Even at the worst of times Mika could command a room effortlessly.

"But their sacrifice was not in vain. Although Elders Slater and Ochoa were trapped and eventually killed in the struggle, Osric and Markus's intervention allowed them time to pen written records of their final wishes and intents… which was that the clan unity movement had their full support. With those precious signatures we found in their pockets, we're able to move forwards with the new treaty. The vampire clan has a lot to make up for. But now we have a chance to try. And it's thanks to these courageous young warriors, and to the noble Vampaneze Elders who deserved to be alive to witness it. Even in death may they be triumphant."

"Even in death may they be triumphant." Kurda echoed along with the three dozen other vampires who'd congregated to pay respects. And with that, Seba lowered the flickering torch to light the pyre. Kurda was seated in the front row between Gracie and Harkat. Mika, Arrow, Vancha, Gannen, and Shane stood in a solemn line at the front of the room, closest to the smouldering pyres. Kurda hadn't been surprised when Darren chose to hang back in the Hall of Princes. Gods knew the kid had more than his fill of death for one week. At least he'd be able to spend a bit of one-on-one time with Darius while everyone else was preoccupied.

But that would come to an end once the funerals wrapped up. The Hall of Princes had been restored to its former glory, the wounded had mostly recovered, and with the dead had been put to rest it was finally time to sign the treaty into law. The second attempt couldn't possibly go worse than the first.

"No surprises this time, right?" Renley Azerion chuckled darkly to Kurda as the crowd began to file out of the room.

"You tell me. You're the one who delivered the punchline last time. Took you long enough, though." Kurda smirked back. Renley laughed in approval and clapped Kurda on the shoulder before going ahead to catch up with another General.

Kurda caught Mika's eye as the group headed up the corridor. He was still flanked by Arrow and Vancha and all three were in deep conversation. Kurda knew better than to interrupt but shot him a reassuring smile. Mika had been gutted to find out his two former teammates had fallen in battle, but appeared to be holding himself together well. Kurda couldn't say for sure. They'd been keeping a respectful distance from each other ever since their talk in the infirmary, only spending time together when their official duties required it. It was easier that way.

Kurda chatted with Harkat for most of the walk up to the Hall of Princes, trading musings about the upcoming mission. Harkat was considering staying back in Vampire Mountain. He didn't want to slow the others down. Kurda objected, insisting he was more than welcome. The group wouldn't be doing much flitting anyway. Harkat chuckled furtively and admitted he rather enjoyed the stability of Vampire Mountain after spending all that time travelling with the Hunters. Kurda laughed and told him to suit himself, and that he was welcome either way.

The group arrived at the Hall of Princes. Vancha was leading the pack with Mika and Arrow at his heels. Gracie was up beside Mika. Vancha pressed his hand against the access panel.

Kurda was still laughing with Harkat as they entered the Hall, but it died on his lips as if the air itself had been vacuumed from his lungs. All three Princes froze like statues. Kurda couldn't see their faces. But he saw Mika's arm swing out sharply, instinctively, to halt Gracie in her tracks lest she take a single step further. In four swift strides Kurda was in front of her too, standing shoulder to shoulder with Mika. Even though they both knew there was no protecting anyone or anything from the hands clutching that heart-shaped watch.

At the front of the room, lounging happily in one of the thrones, was Desmond Tiny. His yellow suit and green wellies stood out like a beacon against the colourless backdrop. Darren was up on the throne platform, standing protectively in front of Darius. If Darren was scared he wasn't showing it. But Kurda's eye didn't linger on the two Shans. There was a fourth figure waiting for them on the platform. Standing to the side of the thrones. Short, hairy, clad in ropes. This time Evanna hadn't stopped the world to project herself into Kurda's mind. It wasn't a hallucination. This was real. They were here.

"Ah, there they are! I was beginning to think you all took the night off to let young Sire Shan do the work!" Tiny hooted gleefully.

"What now?" Larten muttered under his breath. His face was even paler than usual. He glanced uneasily back and forth between his peers.

"It's okay. Just stay behind us. Don't speak unless you're spoken to." Kurda instructed Gracie in an undertone. But she looked more alarmed by the older vampires' reactions than she did by Tiny himself. Kurda glanced sideways at Mika, but Mika was staring dead ahead at the yellow bullseye at the front of the room. There was a stark absence of fear in his swordsteel eyes tonight. Only anger.

Vancha was the first to speak. He stepped forward as calmly as if he was simply greeting a colleague, but there was a subtle tremor to his voice that betrayed his alarm. "Good evening, Desmond. You'll have to forgive our blank stares. Please don't mistake our surprise for rudeness. We just weren't expecting you. Welcome."

Tiny's face split into a lascivious smile. "Sire March, you're far too polite! I apologize sincerely for my abrupt arrival. I know it's been a terribly busy time here in Vampire Mountain. Or is it Vampire-Vampaneze Mountain now? Or perhaps the vampaneze will set up camp in one of the nice vacant mountains next door? Ah, it's so nice to see the neighbourhood thriving."

"It's been an eventful week to say the least." Vancha replied. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Must there always be an ulterior motive?" Tiny threw his head back and cackled with amusement. "Can I not just drop in for a social visit without being subject to interrogation?"

"Can you blame them for being a little on edge?" Evanna spoke up for the first time. Her face was unreadable as her eyes scanned the crowd of assembled vampires.

"Ah, my dear daughter. Always so empathetic. She gets that from me, you know." Tiny winked. "But believe it or not, I am just here to exchange pleasantries. I wish to offer my congratulations on a war well-waged!"

He didn't get out of the throne, just grinned sickening-sweet and began to clap. Slowly but unnaturally loudly. Each clap echoed off the domed walls and visibly assaulted the sensitive ears of the assembled vampires and vampaneze. Many flinched at the sound. Some traded anxious murmurs amongst their peers. All stiffened in fear.

"If I may speak…" Gannen ventured, glancing back and forth at Vancha and the others.

"You may." Tiny beamed, like there was nothing he wanted more.

"…Is that it?" Said Gannen. "The war really is over?"

"You tell me, Mr. Harst. You're the soldiers. I'm merely a spectator! But from what I could see from my box seats, you sure looked like you were ready to end the war. I don't know who was more shocked when you swung your blade at your Lord's throat - him or me!"

Gannen swallowed, sweat beading on his forehead. "I broke my oath. If it displeases you, strike me down here and now and be done with it. The longevity of my brethren is worth far more than my life."

"I certainly could, but I'd hate to inconvenience your new colleagues. They already need to replace two Vampaneze Elders. Would be a shame for them to lose a third." Tiny replied conversationally. His eyes flicked to his daughter. "Don't you agree, Evanna?"

"Gannen acted in the best interest of his clan. It would be wrong to fault him for that." Said Evanna. Her calm demeanour only served to make her father's saccharine delight seem even more chilling by comparison.

"Hah! I think you're just glad to see the kids have been getting along. But I admit I'm intrigued to see how both clans fare with the March-Harst brothers at the helm together. I have no doubt they'll make grandfather proud."

"…Thank you for your mercy." Gannen croaked. His face was almost more grey than purple. He exchanged a covert look with his brother once Tiny looked away. The little man had occupied himself flipping through the stack of official documents that had been awaiting the signatures of the Princes and Elders.

"This is quite the masterpiece, I must admit." He said, peering over the tops of his glasses like a librarian. "Aren't you lot glad you didn't chuck the right honourable Almost-Sire-Smahlt on the stakes seven years ago? I sure consider it the comeback of the millennium!"He cast his eyes around the room, seeming on the verge of exploding with triumph. Then his eyes landed on Gracie.

"And you! I never saw you coming!" Tiny giggled, pointing a stubby finger at her. "My dear Evanna is more creative than I gave her credit for, pulling strings behind my back to get you on the stage with the main cast. What a fun surprise! And all the more power to you ladies! I'm a feminist, you know." Tiny winked and took a step closer to Gracie. She narrowed her eyes but held her ground. Kurda's blood boiled, every nerve suddenly blazing with savage hatred. He saw fire - blinding golden fire - at the corners of his vision.

"Don't speak to her. Don't you dare even look at her. So help me, Desmond, if you ever lay a finger on her, I will kill you."

There was a ringing second before Kurda realized the words had come snarling out of his own throat. He could taste the sparks on his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mika's jaw drop, but he didn't break eye contact with Tiny.

"Ooh! So defensive, Phoenix Prince!" Tiny chortled, clapping his hands to his cheeks and pretending to be offended. "Unruffle those feathers. I've no interest in your fledgling. But just out of curiosity… how exactly did you plan on making good on your threat?" He still looked like he was having the time of his life, but Kurda didn't miss the way his eyes darkened as he spoke the last sentence.

"He'd figure it out. But you'd best hope he doesn't try. He won't miss." Mika cut in icily. The conviction in his voice sent adrenaline coursing through Kurda's body.

"Mika Ver Leth, is that you?! I could've sworn we had a talk about manners last time I came to visit!" Tiny scolded him, waggling a finger.

"I'm not afraid of you, Desmond. Do whatever you want with that information." Mika's every scathing word was dripping in venom. Arrow and Vancha both cursed under their breaths, but Tiny's eyes lit up like a child at a candy shop. He smiled curiously, almost hungrily as he raked his eyes up and down Mika's body. Kurda didn't know what was scarier, those eyes or the way Mika didn't flinch beneath them.

"You used to be such a perfect little people-pleaser before they gave you that big fancy chair. I remember how you used to just… tear yourself apart over your most insignificant mistakes." Tiny sneered. He seemed to taste and savour each word as he spoke it. "And now look at you. Talking back to me as if you own the place!"

"I apologize for him, Desmond. He knows not what he says." Vancha growled pointedly out of the corner of his mouth, glaring daggers at Mika. "He was injured in the battle and is still on very heavy painkillers. We had to get him back to work somehow. Rather busy week around here. With that said, are there any matters you wish to discuss with us here tonight?"

Vancha kept a level head but there was no mistaking the gravity in his words. The subtext came though loud and clear: get to the point of get the fuck out.

Tiny scoffed and rolled his eyes, momentarily resembling a moody teenager. Then he waved a hand dismissively at the vampires before taking several steps back. "I already told you I've had my fun with your lot. Next time I need something to binge watch I'll think twice before pitting the vampires and vampaneze against each other! Or maybe I will. Now that I know how unpredictable you are, I could really have some fun." He looked back at Darren, grinning at the sight of him. "What say you, Young Shan?"

Darren walked down the platform stairs towards Tiny, looking him dead in the eye all the while. Kurda felt Phoenix fire burning deep in his soul all over again. But this time it wasn't out of anger. It was pride. Tiny had come here to strike terror into their hearts. No question about that. But not for the first time, he wasn't getting what he wanted.

"I say I'm proud of my people for laying down their weapons to embrace peace. And I guess, in a roundabout way, we've got you to thank for that. So on behalf of the vampire clan and my fellow Princes, I'd like to extend my gratitude." He stopped a few feet from the yellow-clad man and extended his hand.

Tiny seemed to consider Darren for a moment before his face lit up like a firework as he reached back to shake his hand.

"Spoken like a true Prince indeed. My, how you've grown. You've surpassed even my expectations." He murmured. His eyes lingered on Darren. Like he was sizing him up. But he turned on his heel again, grinning once more. "Now I must be on my merry way. I've got a crippling global pandemic to orchestrate. Oh, don't look at me like that! This one's just for the humans. Silly vampires. Not everything is about you."

At last he headed for the door, pausing only to glance over his shoulder and offer one more wink that curdled the blood of everyone in the room. The doors to the Hall of Princes parted before him, and he was gone.

Kurda automatically glanced at Mika, only to see Mika was already gawking back at him with horror and awe. But this wasn't the time or place for them to ask the other what the hell they were thinking. And it would've been a little redundant considering they already knew exactly what drove the other to cross that line and square up a monster that could've killed them with one blink.

"I apologize for my father's tendency to be indirect." Evanna's steady voice pulled Kurda's attention away from Mika once more. She had descended the throne platform to speak to the group at face-level.

"Did he mean what he said? Is it really over?" Vancha asked her in a murmur, an unusual note of plaintiveness to his voice.

Evanna smiled for the first time. "In that regard, his words were true. If you - the vampires and the vampaneze - say it's over, then it's over."

"That means it's no longer in his hands, doesn't it?" Gannen replied, managing a thin smile. "If there is to be more fighting, it won't be because of any schemes or prophecy. It's up to us."

Evanna put her hand on his shoulder, still smiling. There was a new warmth about her that hadn't been there while her father had been standing in the room. "You always were the clever one."

"I let him be the clever one. It was his consolation prize since I got the good looks." Vancha snorted. But his face cracked into a contented grin as Evanna placed her other hand on his shoulder.

She stood in vigil upon the throne platform in the Hall of Princes til at last the new treaty bore all eight signatures:

Sire Vancha March

Sire Mika Ver Leth

Sire Arrow

Sire Darren Shan

Elder Gannen Harst

Elder Shane Astor

And carefully attached to the parchment with a layer of wax, the strips of paper bearing the signatures of the Vampaneze Elders who risked their lives to journey to Vampire Mountain and paid a gruesome toll for peace. Physical proof that it wasn't for nothing:

Elder Lars Slater

Elder Evin Ochoa

Finally, at the very bottom, a last-minute addition nobody expected but nobody in their right mind would've argued:

Witnessed, approved, and sanctioned by Lady Evanna.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze

Got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hairpin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue

So I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I'd lost you

TWO WEEKS POST-WAR:

The torches in the Hall of Baker Wrent were burning low and the last of the staff had gone to bed. Mika hadn't noticed the diminishing light til just now. And if he hadn't picked up on it, he was willing to bet Gracie definitely hadn't. They'd been running sword drills for well over three hours.

As Mika had feared, Gracie was exactly like him in one very specific way he hoped she wouldn't be. There was no off-switch. There was no "I'm getting tired, can we stop for tonight?" There was only a relentless drive to work until the task at hand had been executed to perfection. She wouldn't ask for a break so Mika had to make a point of stopping every now and then.

Gracie's eyes tracked his staff like a hawk to a mouse as they squared off for the umpteenth time. Her enhanced reflexes sharpened with every passing night. And with her newfound physical strength came a brazen impatience that was all too familiar to Mika. Suddenly all he could see was Arra. Tough, quick, and gritty enough to make up for her size - and then some.

But he could lose himself in bittersweet nostalgia later. Gracie aimed a vicious but poorly timed strike at the base of Mika's staff, leaving her own defences wide open. He disarmed her effortlessly, using his staff to leverage hers to the floor. She paused to glare expectantly at him, waiting for him to release so she could try again. But Mika didn't give an inch, and she wasn't strong enough to overpower him. Which was exactly where he'd been going with this - now that her weapon was immobilized, she had no choice but to listen.

"You're fighting like you've got something to prove. Don't do that." Mika told her. "I used to tell Arra all the time: focus on accuracy and the rest will come. Remember, you're about five-foot-four. You don't get to be reckless."

Gracie arched an eyebrow skeptically but relaxed her grip on the staff and straightened up, conceding defeat. Or so Mika thought.

"Well then, can you at least pretend to try?" She shot back.

"Pardon you?"

"You're tiptoeing around me like I'm made of glass." Gracie challenged him. "I know you don't want to hurt me. But you're not doing me any favours by taking it easy."

"Keep in mind I was shot in the heart barely two weeks ago. I shouldn't even be in the sporting halls." Mika tried to brush off the criticism. He wasn't technically lying. The left side of his chest and shoulder ached terribly. But he was so accustomed to pushing through pain he barely noticed it til just now.

"No, you probably shouldn't. But it didn't seem to hold you back when you were sparring with Vanez earlier. I'd rather end up with a few bruises now than lose a real fight down the road because you coddled me into false confidence." Said Gracie.

"Well, you've sure got me there. I'm very sorry I haven't been hitting you hard enough. I'll try to do better." Mika deadpanned, looking her in the eye.

"Well, when you say it like that…" she rolled her eyes but Mika could see her impatience falter as his point hit home. But she kept her guard up. Mika adjusted his approach and tried again.

"It hasn't even been three weeks since I blooded you and I can already see how much pressure you put on yourself to succeed in this world. Trust me, I understand that better than anyone. But you have to be easier on yourself. I just don't want to see you get burned out."

"Wow. Great advice. Is that what they told you in training?"

"No. But I wish they had. So I'm telling you now."

"Right. I'm sure you would've been just as successful if you'd been easier on yourself." Gracie scoffed with acidic sarcasm. "Because if there's one thing the clan respects, it's a vampire who sometimes works hard."

Mika didn't know how to counteract her contempt. Mostly because she wasn't wrong. So he just sighed, and wordlessly signalled the end of the session by sliding his staff to the storage barrel at the edge of the ring. Gracie tossed hers into the same barrel with what Mika felt was an unnecessary amount of force. The thin practice weapon bounced several times against the bottom of the barrel and clattered loudly against the dozen other staffs kept there.

"Keep in mind I have no problem snitching to Vanez if you damage his equipment." Mika warned her, raising an eyebrow. "Those aren't designed for high impact. If he finds a crack in that staff he'll make you go out to the forest and find a fresh branch to replace it."

"You speaking from experience?"

"Arrow's experience. I was too smart to break shit that didn't belong to me."

Mika could tell by the lip twitch that Gracie wanted to laugh at that. He wasn't fooled by her cold shoulder. If she truly was fed up with him for the night, she would've walked out the door. Instead she fell into step beside him as he wandered over to the vast bar system across the room. The sight of Arra'a beloved bars had been a source of pain and grief not so long ago. They felt more like a safe haven these days. As Mika pulled himself up onto the lowest level and took a seat he could practically hear Arra laughing at him from high above.

"What are you smiling at?" Gracie asked bluntly as she climbed up beside him.

"Just remembering how Arra used to tell me I had the coordination of a blind moose calf every time I got on the bars. Didn't matter that I'd set multiple swordsmanship score records or anything. Once I got on the bars I was just okay. And she never let me forget it."

Gracie allowed him a chuckle at that, albeit not a proper laugh. Progress all the same. They sat in silence for some time.

"Eventually you'll be able to join a training group with vampires your own age and experience level." Mika offered after a while. "Then you can all beat each other with sticks til your heart's content. And those will be some of the best years of your life."

Gracie nodded, but seemed to be only half-listening. Like her body was in the room but her mind was elsewhere. Mika already knew where her mind was. He'd known for days. But he'd never been one to push or pry and he wasn't about to change his approach after twenty-five years of what he considered success. She'd get there when she was ready.

Then she glanced sideways at him. She still looked guarded and aloof, but no longer resentful. There it was. She was ready

"Yeah… I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I know Vanez was holding a spot for me… but he can take me off the waiting list for now. I'm going on the mission as Darren's secondary." She delivered it as a statement of fact, not a question. But her uncharacteristic hesitation suggested she wanted Mika's approval anyway.

"I know. Darren already asked me about it."

"He did?!"

"Yes. I told him he didn't need my permission to invite you, nor did you need my permission to accept. But I did offer him my professional opinion. Which was that you're wildly unqualified for the job and he'd be smarter to pick a seasoned General to be his second."

Gracie rolled her eyes. "Wow. Thanks, Dad."

"Let me finish. I also offered him my personal opinion - which was to trust himself, and to be selective about who he places his trust in. Trust carries more weight than experience when it comes to something this important." Mika continued. "So if he thinks it's you, and if you want it to be you… then it's you."

She nodded as she took all that in. She seemed surprised. Skeptical, even.

"Then I reminded him he's almost as unqualified as you are, so Vancha will be supervising things regardless." Mika added. "You'll be well-protected and you'll learn more than you ever could here in the mountain. The sporting halls will be here when you get back. I'm happy for you."

"Wow. Thanks, Dad." She replied eventually, blinking in disbelief. It took Mika a moment to realize she'd just repeated the same three words twice in a row. Her tone had changed so drastically she might as well have been speaking another language.

"You thought I'd say no, didn't you?" Mika inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"If there was ever a time you'd want to hold me back, I figured this would be it." Gracie replied diplomatically after pausing to consider her words. "And I wouldn't blame you for wanting to protect me after everything that's happened. But… I would've gone anyway."

"Fair enough."

"It's not that I want to leave. You know I love it here." She added. "But I can't pass up an opportunity from a Prince who isn't my dad. When people hear my name, I don't want them to think of Kurda Smahlt, or Mika Ver Leth -"

"None taken."

"You know what I mean! I want my reputation to stand on its own. Now that I'm here to stay, the clan needs to understand I'm not just a nepotism baby!"

"You're not just a nepotism baby. You're my nepotism baby!" Mika protested. Joking, while simultaneously sobered by a whole new understanding of Gracie's drive to learn and improve. No wonder burnout was the last thing on her mind.

"And I will always be your nepotism baby. But I have to do this." Her voice cracked a little, but didn't break.

"I know. You're right. Your path to success will be completely different from your peers. I can't navigate it for you." Said Mika seriously. "But I'll always be there standing behind you. So will your Other Dad. At least knowing him, he'll probably have a map."

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer

Place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory

It was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back to that

THREE WEEKS POST-WAR:

Kurda hadn't actually set foot in this particular tunnel since his exile. But that seemingly endless walk, the walk he believed would be the last steps he ever took in this place, was burned into his memory as clearly now as it was that night. Every flickering torch. Every stretch of luminous lichen. Every crack and crevice in the cold stone floor.

He even remembered the names and faces of the six guards who'd escorted him out. Two of whom would eventually side with Jakob Wiles and never guard anything again. But more than anything Kurda remembered the taste of vomit in the back of his throat and the unspeakable, indescribable grief in Mika's eyes because he was there too. From the moment of sentencing til that final goodbye in the snow. It had been the worst night of his life. And Mika had been there every step of the way, because it was his too.

And when Kurda walked down that long hallway seven years later, Mika was still there. But the world around them was brand new. Instead of somber guards they were surrounded by friends. Instead of gut-wrenching despair, there was hope. Instead of tears, laughter. Neither Kurda nor Mika had sufficient time to get lost in memories because they were too busy stifling snorts of amusement at how intently Larten kept trying to rearrange the contents of Darren's backpack as he walked.

"I'll be fine, Mr. Crepsley. One blanket is enough. Plus I've got my thick jacket." Said Darren for what had to be the fifteenth time.

"I am not doubting your survival skills! I am simply-"

"Worrying?" Seba teased him, a wicked grin lighting up his face.

Larten bristled, but went as red as his cloak."I am not worrying! But Darren will not be much use to the clans if he freezes to death."

"So you are worrying." Said Darren.

Larten's face worked furiously for a moment til he eventually blurted out "Well, do you blame me?!"

"Larten, I vividly remember Darren standing in the boar pit, staring up at us with those big hopeful Darren eyes." Mika interjected scathingly. "I went out of my way to give you an opportunity to speak in his defence so I could as least try to build a case for him. And you looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Nah, he failed the trial. Guess he's fucked'."

Vancha let out a thunderous laugh. Even Gannen and Shane snickered. Larten did a double-take so sharp his cloak made a snapping sound as he rounded on Mika. "I said nothing of the sort!

"Sorry. Guess he IS fucked. We can't all be grammar snobs. Some of us have jobs."

"I do have a job!" Larten protested.

"You have a pending job offer." Seba corrected him. "Perhaps you should worry less about Darren and more about yourself. Training starts tomorrow, Quartermaster Crepsley."

"I was there at the boar trial. I can confirm that was also my takeaway from that conversation. Hence me taking the situation into my own hands." Kurda deadpanned. Larten glared.

"So either Larten has grown significantly softer in the past seven years…" Seba pondered. "…or he doesn't have enough faith in his own mentoring skills to believe Darren can survive a few years without his supervision."

"Which is it, Quicksilver?" Vancha added with a sly wink.

"We're going to be walking for years?!" Darius piped up, the words squeaking out in a whine of dismay. For a moment he sounded like an average eight-year-old. And given what he'd been through, that was refreshing.

"Not you." Said Darren earnestly, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "We should have you back at your mom's house in three months or less. I know that sounds like a long time but it'll go fast, I promise. We'll sing lots of songs and build campfires when we stop. It'll be an adventure."

"I change my mind. I'm saying here." Gracie cut in, grimacing. "I didn't sign up to listen to Sire Shan sing for three months."

"No take-backs! Ale, ale, I drink like a whale. I am the Prince, the Prince of - HEY!" Darren's off-key serenade was cut short by Gracie yanking his hood down over his face. Kurda opened his mouth to at least try to tell her off, but didn't get very far before bursting into laughter. Mika, already doubled over wheezing, didn't try at all.

"I think I might just miss that far less than I anticipated." Larten scoffed in Darren's direction. "What a grand vacation this will be for everyone involved."

"But you will miss me." Darren smirked, grinning smugly.

"I will not!"

"Too late! You admitted it! Less than anticipated is still some. You're going to miss me! Did everyone hear that? Mr. Crepsley's going to miss me!" He was practically cackling. It bordered on maniacal.

Kurda would've been content to walk that corridor for the rest of his life, just listening to all of them. It was so easy. So good. He didn't want it to end and he almost resented the hit of fresh, cold outdoor air when they made it out of the mountain.

Darren and Larten managed to fit in one last squabble before parting ways, but they weren't fooling anyone. There were tears pooling in both sets of stubborn eyes as they bickered about which way station was closest. It wasn't long before Seba had enough and stepped in, more or less shoving them into a hug. It was all downhill from there. Gracie and Mika had been far more strategic. They'd already gotten their messy goodbyes over with in private, and were now trading subtle eye rolls as they watched Darren and Larten ugly-cry into each other's cloaks. As if that hadn't been them less than an hour ago.

Nobody was paying any attention to Mika or Kurda. Vancha, Gannen, Renley, and Shane were huddled nearby, trying to figure out one of Kurda's maps. They all looked serious as scholars, bless their hearts. Vancha was holding it upside down. Seba and Harkat were due for their turns to hug Darren goodbye. But Larten seemed unable to release him so eventually they just joined in. And Gracie was occupied with fielding Darius's very serious questions about what was supper that night. Twelve hours from now.

Kurda capitalized on the group's collective distraction by catching Mika's eye and gesturing vaguely in the direction of a nearby tree. Mika nodded and followed him. They remained within sight of the others, but distanced enough to steal a moment they didn't have to share with anyone else.

"So… this is it." Said Kurda.

"This is it." Mika echoed. He was still smiling, but only now was there a bittersweetness to it. Reality was starting to sink in for him, just as it was for Kurda.

Kurda spent half a second debating whether he'd stick to the plan, which was to keep it professional. Half a second was all it took. He put his arms around Mika, and Mika practically melted into him. This was the hug. Their hug. The hug they'd both leaned into hundreds if not thousands of times over the part two decades: Kurda standing up on his toes to get as close as he could, arms around Mika's shoulders, chin resting in the crook of his neck because it fit there like a puzzle piece. And Mika's arms encircling Kurda's lower back, holding on so gently yet with such impossible strength at the same time. Like he was afraid Kurda would disappear before his eyes. Again.

"Five years will fly by like nothing. And Gracie's safe with me. I promise." Kurda murmured into his ear.

"I'm not worried." Said Mika. "Not even a little bit."

Kurda paused as he disengaged from the embrace, palm lingering on Mika's chest. Upper left side. Right where he'd taken the bullet meant for Kurda. Kurda couldn't feel the fresh cord of scar tissue through the thick leather of Mika's jacket, but he could feel the heart beating steadily beneath it.

"I'm coming back." Kurda vowed on impulse, voice suddenly thick and husky with emotion. "You know that, right? I'm coming back for this."

Mika's expression didn't change. But Kurda could feel the physical effects of the words he spoke. Had he not been holding Mika's heart in his hand, he would've never guessed it started beating faster. But there it was. And it took everything he had to finally let go.

Mika nodded steadily, grey eyes as serene as the ocean after a storm.

"Go save the world. Take as long as you need. I'll be right here."

Bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

THREE MONTHS POST-WAR:

They say you can't go home again. Gracie doesn't know who "they" are. But she doesn't really care. They have no idea what they're talking about. Home can be anywhere. Sometimes where you least expect it.

Home was Vampire Mountain as a little kid, staying up past her bedtime to sit in the Hall of Princes with Mika or exploring the endless caverns with Kurda.

Home was getting silly-drunk with her dorm mates in boarding school as a teenager, drinking the cheap booze they smuggled in and bonding over the one thing they all had in common: their families were thousands of miles away and all they had was each other. And that was all any of them needed to know about each other.

Home was her cozy apartment on a rainy night with her cat Shaughnessy, comfort show reruns on Netflix, and a steaming bag of takeout on the table.

Home was returning to the legendary halls of Vampire Mountain as an adult, and the bittersweet certainty that had always been where she belonged.

She didn't expect to find home out here on the trail. But sure enough, when they rendezvoused with the Cirque Du Freak it didn't even occur to her to feel out of place among the performers and employees. They camped there for about a week to recuperate from the first leg of the journey - Gracie, Darren, Darius, Kurda, Vancha, Renley, Shane, and Gannen. But everyone knew better than to get too comfortable. There were a plethora of meetings to prepare for, but Darren's first priority was reuniting his nephew and sister.

They say you can't go home again. The more she thinks about it, the more Gracie would be inclined to refute the fuck out of that, citing the words of someone who, like her, knew a thing or two about having the best of both worlds: You'll always find your way back home. (Please. Singing along to that soundtrack with her boarding school friends was as much a core memory as all the Vampire Mountain stuff).

Annie lived about 300 kilometres from where the Cirque set up camp. So Mr. Tall lent them a SUV from the Cirque's fleet, and Gracie drove Darren and Darius home. Darius was going home in the literal sense. Darren had never been to the city Annie lived in now. But the moment he hugged his sister, he was just as home as Darius was.

Gracie told Darren she'd go kill time around the city while he caught up with his sister, but he wouldn't hear of it. So she was there for everything. The tears. The laughter. The way the light in Darren's eyes died when he asked Annie how their mum and dad were doing, and she sighed sadly and told him they had a massive falling-out when she started dating Steve. They hadn't spoken since. They didn't even know Darius existed. She often wondered about reconnecting with them, but admitted it would be difficult to do that without coming clean about everything. About who Darius really was. About what Steve really did. And how all that was tied up in the truth about Darren.

"So it'll probably never happen." Annie finished with a weak chuckle. "They've been through so much already. Maybe it's better this way. And you know I'd never tell anyone the truth about you without your permission, right?"

Darren nodded and managed a smile. Neither of them brought up their parents after that. Annie made it clear how much she hated how Darren faked his death, but she understood why he couldn't just ring their parents' doorbell after all that time and say guess who?

The conversation between Darren and Annie drifted into clearer waters and Gracie kept her thoughts to herself. They sat around the living room for hours, chatting and eating pizza. Darius was so relieved to be home he fell asleep upright on the couch with his head resting on Annie's shoulder. Eventually Annie carried him to bed, then retreated to her own room across the hall. That left the two half-vampires to set up camp in the living room. Annie had been very apologetic about the lack of space and offered to take the couch herself so at least one of them could have a proper bed. But after three months in the snowy wilderness, the lumpy floral couches felt luxurious.

"Thanks for being here." Darren's voice pierced the silence as they lay there on their respective couches. Well, Gracie had the full-length couch. Darren had crammed himself into the two-person love seat. To be fair, she's still taller than him at a towering five-foot-four.

"I'm the only one who knows how to drive. It was great to meet Annie, though. She's way cooler than you." Said Gracie as she stared aimlessly up at the off-white stucco ceiling. The apartment was far from luxurious but it reminded her of her first pcollege rental.

"Some things never change, I guess." Darren chucked.

"Not to be soft and gross, but I've never seen you as happy as you looked today. I'm happy for you."

"I can't believe it. It still doesn't feel real."

"So what's our next move, boss?"

"We'll stay for breakfast, but we probably shouldn't stick around too long. Better get back to the others."

Gracie hummed in non-committal acknowledgement but didn't say anything.

"Do you have a different idea?" Darren added quizzically.

"Not really. I think you do, though."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Darren. You've been thinking about it ever since you mentioned your parents. I looked up the town Annie said they live in. It's only half a day's drive from here, and she's got a car… sounds like she's seriously considering reconnecting with them."

"Good. I hope she goes. They deserve to get at least one of their kids back."

Gracie almost bit her tongue. This was so beyond none of her business. But she couldn't help herself.

"…Just one?"

Darren caught her drift immediately, and he shook his head. "Don't. Don't go there. You know it's not that simple for me. Annie's just estranged. I'm dead."

"But you're not! Listen, I know it'd be hard to go back. I get it. But you're alive. Don't you want to try?"

"Of course I want to-"

"Then it is that simple."

"My parents buried me! I had to lie there and listen for hours while they cried over my body. How am I supposed to look them in the eye and explain how I let that happen to them?" The words came out as an aching half-sob and Gracie knew the conversation was over. She knew she shouldn't have brought it up, and she wouldn't blame him if he held a grudge. But it was worth a try.

"I'm sorry, Darren. Last thing I want to do is open old wounds." She replied wearily, tucking herself into the chevron-print fleece blanket. "All I know is that I'd rather die than be alive in a world where my parents thought I was gone."

He didn't answer. Eventually Gracie drifted off to sleep, and assumed Darren did the same.

VAMPIRE MOUNTAIN:

The first three months felt like a fever dream. The world slowed down, but Mika didn't. He couldn't. Seven years was a drop in the bucket of a vampiric lifespan but it had been more than enough to hardwire a constant state of survival mode into his brain. Seven years of fight, flight, and freeze. Mostly fight.

On the surface he knew the time for fighting was over. He'd been there to witness the final moments of the war. He knew he was safe. Still, his subconscious wasn't ready to trust the world around him. The days and nights blurred together, an endless cycle of waking from nightmares in cold sweats and dodging panic attacks that were somehow worse than ever because why was this still happening?

Three months to the day the war ended, Gracie rang the satellite phone he'd kept on standby in the Hall of Princes ever since they first shipped her off to boarding school. After three months of radio silence she'd finally been able to charge her cell to check in.

It was a social call. Darius had been reunited with his mother, and Gracie was en route back to rejoin Kurda and the others. But she was driving alone. Mika was stunned to hear Darren had put Princely duties on hold for a few more days to reunite with his parents. He'd arrive on their doorstep any minute now. And he was going to tell them everything.

Admittedly Mika didn't usually give much thought to family matters outside his own. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age, but he smiled at the news. Darren was never cut out to be a conventional vampire anyway. If anyone deserved the best of both worlds, it was him.

"Well, I'm parking the car at the Cirque now." Said Gracie, a little reluctantly even though they'd already been on the phone for an hour and a half. "I see Dad and Uncle V talking to the snake guy. Want me to put either of them on the phone?"

"It's alright. Vancha's been sending me telepathic updates. He knows I get squirrelly when I'm out of the loop. His words, not mine. As for your Other Dad-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know you're doing the no-contact thing to give each other space. Sorry. I'll stay out of it."

"I was just going to ask how he's doing."

"He's great. Better than ever. It's going to be a busy few months out here, but we're all ready for it. I've never seen him this happy." She was smiling with pride. Mika could hear it in her voice.

"That's all I need to hear. I love you, Gracie. Give everyone my best."

"Love you too. Say hi to Uncle A and the others. Talk soon."

Her finger must've missed the disconnect button, because there followed the sound of a slamming car door, then a muffled rustle like she slid the phone into her pocket and walked off. Mika could just hear Vancha's booming voice in the background:

"There she is! Welcome back. Hey, where's Darren? Did you get tired of the singing and leave him on the side of the road somewhere? Wouldn't blame you, honestly."

"He's fine. He said he was going to call your burner phone to explain. Didn't he get in touch with you?" Gracie asked, sounding dubious.

"Oh, I've no doubt he tried. But I find this human technology doesn't work for me." Vancha replied brightly.

"Pfft. Sire March tried to help with chores last night and dropped his phone in the wolf-man's dinner." Kurda snorted. Two thousand miles away, Mika closed his eyes and smiled. Even through all that distance and static he could hear the amusement in Kurda's voice. But it was more than that. It was genuine happiness. He was healing. And gods, nobody deserved it more.

"Hey, we don't know it won't come out through the other end!" An unfamiliar voice chortled. Presumably the aforementioned snake guy. "Anyway, where'd Darren end up?"

Gracie muttered something about having to do everything herself. It became impossible to hear much else over the rustle of her pocket, so Mika ended the call.

He was grateful for the shred of good news, as were Arrow, Larten, Harkat, Vanez, and Seba. The six of them raised a mug of ale in honour of the progress their colleagues were making, then carried on with their business. It didn't truly hit Mika til he went to bed hours later. Just like that, it was over. For real. He lay there between the sturdy mahogany walls of his coffin, wrapped in his favourite blanket, so cozy there was no way it was Vampire Mountain legal.

He found himself thinking of a night during his apprenticeship with Paris. While travelling they came across the charred, skeletal remains of an ancient, sweeping forest ravaged by wildfire. Mika never seen destruction on such a massive scale and found himself deeply unsettled by it. Then Paris knelt to the ground with strangely wistful smile on his face, and gestured for Mika to come look. Mika didn't want to linger there but he knew better than to think he could call the shots while Paris was in charge. So he knelt reluctantly to the ash-covered ground - and couldn't believe what he was seeing.

It was a tree, fighting its way determinedly upwards through the rubble. Barely a sapling yet its leaves were the brightest shade of green Mika ever seen. And that wasn't all. Paris patiently pointed out another little tree a few yards away, and another, and another. Little dots of green everywhere. Once Mika looked past the overwhelming devastation, those tiny signs of life were all he could see. The forest was healing itself.

"The strength of a thing is not measured by whether it can or cannot be destroyed. Anything can fall. Anyone can fall. The true test of strength is how they rise from the ashes." Said Paris as they sat there taking it in. Paris had a way of making everything sound like legitimate life advice, but there was something about it that stayed with Mika long after they moved on.

Many decades after, he found himself walking through a vast forest that felt similar in a way he couldn't describe. It didn't take him long to figure out he was back in that forest. He made a mental note to tell Paris when he got back to Vampire Mountain. This time Mika had his own apprentice trailing him. He really thought he was starting to hit his stride as a mentor. But when he delivered his best interpretation of Paris's wise words, Arra wrinkled her nose like he'd sprouted a second head.

"You know what I mean!" Said Mika, huffing in exasperated after repeatedly attempting to convey a point that didn't seem to be landing.

"It means you should leave the inspiring metaphors to Sire Skyle." Arra lipped.

Mika rolled his eyes and pushed her unceremoniously into a blueberry bush. She sprang back to her feet, picked up a branch and whacked him in the head with it.

"See? That's exactly what I meant." Mika deadpanned while wiping blood off his forehead. "Your strength isn't measured by whether or not something can knock you down. It's whether you get back up and crack their head open."

Arra eyed him shrewdly, nodding as she mulled that over. And Mika finally felt a twinge of hard-won satisfaction. He'd gotten through to her. They sat there eating blueberries til the sun began to rise.

Back in the present, Mika felt his entire body release all seven years of tension as it finally clicked into place.

He slept for twelve hours and missed a meeting. Arrow assumed the worst and checked on him (leaving Harkat to watch the Hall of Princes and making him swear not to tell anyone). But soon as he saw how peacefully Mika was sleeping, Arrow closed the door and walked away. He knew what that sleep felt like.

Mika slept a lot the first year. He stopped trying to fight it once he made the connection that his body had finally accepted it was safe, and was trying to catch up on all the rest it had missed while trying to survive one night to the next. Storms pass. Fires burn out. The world heals. And he'd made it to the other side to watch all that new life emerge from the ashes.

On this side, there was peace.

Always remember, uh-huh

We're burned for better, I vowed

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

I will always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

I vowed I will always be yours

PHEW. Thanks for tuning into episode 31 of the soap opera to end all soap operas.

I need to confess I feel some guilt over how I condensed the Darren-Darius-Annie reunion into such a short segment. The chapter was already out of control lengthwise so I wasn't able to give it the time it deserved. But once the idea came to me I refused to leave it out, and we're gearing up for a time jump so it was now or never. I've also reached the point where I need to remind myself this is still a MikaKurda story. Or more accurately, a MikaKurda ft. Gracie story. I've already gone further into Darren and Darius's relationship than intended and I have to draw a line somewhere. But I've known for a long time I wanted Darren to get his family back. And I love that he's able to connect with Gracie about that stuff in a way the "adult" vampires just can't relate to. I was not expecting to love their friendship as much as I do, but it's made me learn to love writing Darren almost as much as my regulars.

We really are almost at the end. I don't like to make these claims because I'm usually wrong, but I think it's either going to be one more long chapter and a long-ish epilogue, or two medium chapters and a short epilogue. We'll see what Destiny's feeling at the time.

As always, thanks for being here. I truly appreciate it and I'll never take you guys for granted. It takes time and energy to consume fanfiction. And it takes a LOT of time and energy to consume my fanfiction because these chapters are so god damn long. It was either 70~ normal chapters or 30~ long chapters and I'm only now asking myself why I didn't just do more normal chapters.

See you next time!

- roxy