Morning broke like glass—shattered and sharp.
Alex sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the text Harper had sent just hours ago. The early sun filtered through his curtains, casting pale light over the pages of Liam's file, now spread haphazardly across the floor. Liam was still asleep, half-curled under the blankets with one arm draped over the pillow where Alex had been lying. The quiet rise and fall of his chest was the only thing that felt real right now.
A lead on his mom.
He hadn't dared to hope. For so long, the only thing Alex knew was that she'd died at the hands of a vampire. That Marcus had told him she was collateral damage. A casualty of war. That was all he'd ever been told.
But Harper didn't say things lightly. If she said she had a lead, it meant she'd found something solid—something dangerous.
Alex stood, wincing slightly at the stiffness in his joints. Last night's emotions lingered like fog on his skin: Liam's warmth, the sting of his father's betrayal, the ache of too many truths arriving all at once.
He dressed quietly, pulling on jeans and a hoodie, then reached for his phone.
[Meet me in twenty. Don't bring backup. - H]
Harper waited by the rusted sign at the edge of the old woods—the place where Hollow Ridge turned from town to wilderness, and where stories turned into legends.
She looked different today: serious, quiet. No sarcastic one-liners, no eye-rolls. Just Harper, arms folded, hair in a messy braid, standing beside a motorcycle she definitely did not have a license for.
Alex jogged the last few steps. "Okay. I'm here. What's going on?"
Harper handed him a folder.
Inside were photos. Some grainy. Some crystal-clear. A woman's face stared up at him, mid-laugh, her dark curls whipping in the wind.
Alex's throat closed.
"That's her," he whispered. "That's my mom."
"Her name was Elena Myles. Born in Barcelona. She moved here after marrying Marcus, obviously. But before that, she was part of a group called the Veilwalkers. Heard of them?"
Alex shook his head, eyes locked on the photos.
Harper pulled out another sheet—a map marked in red and black ink. "They weren't just scholars. They protected something—a collection of relics, secrets. Doors, Alex. Not physical ones, but ones in blood, memory, power. Your mom was one of them. A guardian."
He looked up, eyes wide. "She was like me."
"Exactly like you," Harper said. "And Marcus? He wasn't just her husband. He was sent to infiltrate the Veilwalkers. It was an assignment."
The world tilted.
"You think he—?"
"No," she said quickly. "I don't think he killed her. But I think he knows more than he ever let on. And I think someone else finished the job when she wouldn't give them what they wanted."
Alex closed the folder slowly. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"So what now?"
Harper gave a thin smile. "Now we find the people who wanted her dead. And we start by finding the last place she was seen alive."
Back at the house, Liam was waiting.
His golden eyes tracked Alex as he walked in. "You okay?"
Alex nodded. "No. But also yes. My mom… she was one of them. A Veilwalker. I think that's why the mirror recognized me."
Liam stood. "And your father?"
"May have been spying on her the entire time."
Liam moved forward, gently brushing hair from Alex's forehead. "Whatever this is, you're not alone."
Alex swallowed. "I know."
They kissed briefly, comfort more than heat.
Then Harper burst in through the door.
"Alright, weirdos, time to suit up. We're going on a little trip."
The old train station hadn't run in years. Overgrown tracks, shattered glass, graffiti-covered walls. But it had a strange energy to it—like the air itself hummed with memory.
"She was here two days before she died," Harper said, pointing to the faded logs inside the old stationmaster's office. "She met with someone named Caine. No last name. No origin. Just Caine."
Liam stiffened. "That name sounds familiar."
Alex looked at him. "Who is he?"
"An exile," Liam said slowly. "Someone even the other vampires don't talk about. He dabbled in things no one understood. Blood alchemy. Forbidden rites. My father exiled him centuries ago."
Harper raised a brow. "And now he's in Hollow Ridge. Meeting with your mom before she died. You think that's a coincidence?"
"No," Alex said.
Liam nodded. "Then we find him."
They searched the train yard for hours. Nothing. Just rust and rot.
But as the sun dipped low, Alex felt it—a pull. A whisper.
"Over here," he called, slipping between two boxcars.
A sigil burned faintly on the door of an old cargo container. Ancient. Familiar. It shimmered when he touched it.
Liam stepped beside him, lips parted. "That's old Veilwalker magic."
Harper cracked her knuckles. "What happens if we open it?"
"We find answers," Alex said. "Or monsters. Maybe both."
The sigil glowed bright, then vanished.
The door creaked open.
Inside: a room, impossibly larger than the container itself. Books lined the walls. Candles floated in mid-air. Maps stretched across a giant table in the center.
And standing at the far end, bathed in flickering golden light, was a man with gray hair and glowing crimson eyes.
"I've been expecting you," he said. "Your mother would be proud."
Alex stepped forward. "You're Caine."
The man nodded. "And you, Alex, are your mother's son in every way."
He smiled.
"But I'm afraid there's not much time."
Behind them, the sigil on the door burst into flames.