Chapter Ten: Out of the Shadows
Ellan's Point of View
The morning sun was slow to rise, stretching fingers of gold over the mist-laced clearing. I sat beside Ellyn under the shade of a tall, old tree, listening to Mom speak with Mr. Vallen. Her voice was steady and calm, but something in the way she leaned forward, eyes narrowed, made me know this wasn't a casual conversation.
I tried to keep up, really tried. The words were important — words like "treaty," "voluntary blood," "prohibition." But they felt heavy, layered with meanings I couldn't fully grasp. Still, I listened. Maybe one day I'd understand it all.
Ellyn, meanwhile, wasn't even pretending.
She tilted her head up, her eyes fixated on something between the branches above. Her expression was curious—focused in a quiet, patient way.
I looked up too, expecting a bird or squirrel.
But no.
There, shimmering lightly between the leaves, was a fairy. Small. Almost invisible if you didn't know how to see.
It fluttered its wings once but didn't move. Just stared at her.
Ellyn, in return, stared back. Neither of them blinked.
'She's having a staring contest with a fairy,' I thought, the corner of my mouth twitching. I looked between the two, silently cheering her on.
My attention wandered when I noticed someone else — Lexander — standing far back in the shadows.
He wasn't fidgeting like other kids our age. He didn't shuffle his feet or pick at the grass. He stood very still, like he'd been waiting for something… or like he already knew how this meeting would end. His eyes moved a lot though — slowly, carefully — like he was studying every word and every person.
I couldn't tell if he was shy or just… thinking about something important.
And for some reason, I got the feeling he thought more than most grown-ups I'd met.
When his gaze briefly met mine, it wasn't the quick glance of another kid — it was the sort of look people give when they're measuring something in their head. I didn't know what he saw in me, but it made me want to stand a little straighter.
---
"Now, it's your turn," Mom said, her voice clear. "What do you want to add? And do you agree with the conditions proposed by the other side?"
Mr. Vallen's answer came without hesitation. "The Elves Hunting Festival will never exist again. We will only drink if they give permission. No more hunting. But… they must give their blood willingly."
His tone was cold. Flat. But his words...
They hunted elves? The thought chilled me. I'd read about such things in books — dark histories, old cruelties — but to hear it spoken like a business arrangement made my stomach tighten.
Mom's lips pressed together. "There's contrast in that statement," she said, her voice clipped with disapproval.
"I'll wait for their response," Mr. Vallen continued. "If they agree, we request at least one small bottle of elven blood. With conditions attached."
She didn't respond right away.
"There is one more thing," he added. "Marriage between vampires and elves will be prohibited… for a certain period. I will leave the duration to the elves."
The silence after his words was heavy — thick with unspoken emotions.
Mom's face remained unreadable, but I knew her well. She was weighing this — every word, every implication.
"There's no turning back," she said finally. "At the next meeting, both sides must be present. That day will be final. Until then, today's meeting ends here."
I let my breath out slowly. Something about this entire meeting left a cold coil in my chest.
---
Lexander's Point Of View
The sun had climbed higher than Lexander realized.
The conversation dragged on for hours. Lexander didn't move, didn't speak. But inside, he was tense — coiled like a spring. The shadows that protected him were shrinking with every passing moment, creeping away with the laziness of morning light.
His foot was only inches from the sun's reach.
It would burn him.
Not just sting — not like cold wind or scraped knees.
True sunlight could pierce through his skin like acid. He'd felt it before, when he was younger, careless. It left marks.
Lexander knew he could protect himself — at least for a while. But he also knew the limits. Limits were something he understood far too well for a child his age.
He glanced at Vallen, catching the faintest nod. That was all he needed.
Most undead couldn't use magic. Not truly. It was the price of death — magic rejected them like blood rejected a mismatched heart.
But vampires… they were strange.
They could breathe. Eat. Even create life. They looked alive, moved like the living — but they were not. Their hearts were still. Dead. And yet somehow… the blood moved.
No one knew how. It flowed through their bodies, warmed their skin, colored their lips. All without a single beat of the heart.
They were a mystery. A contradiction.
But noble blood carried something stranger: a natural magic. A gift of survival.
The barrier.
Invisible, unless strained. It was a shield of energy — not learned, not taught — born within them. Vallen had it. Father had it. And so did he.
It protected them from sunlight.
But barely.
He could summon it, could hold it. But every second under the sun felt like lifting a mountain. The longer he stayed, the faster it drained.
He could never tell when it would fail.
And that uncertainty… he hated it. Just as he hated the thirst.
It wasn't disgust at the taste — that part he could ignore — it was the need. The idea of having no choice. Of relying on something that reminded him he wasn't human anymore.
"When someone is in danger… they become stronger."
He startled at the sound of Father's voice. He wasn't looking at him, but he knew those words were for him.
He always spoke like that — quiet reminders buried in observation.
Then, to the group, he added, "Perhaps the children should play together."
Lexander froze.
What?
His eyes flicked to him, then to the woman — Flora, he called her.
She smiled softly. "Hmm. That's a good idea."
She turned to her children. "Ellan. Ellyn. Go play with your new friend."
New friend. That word never sat right with him. It belonged to another life — another place where friendship had been simpler.
The twins didn't hesitate.
"Let's go!" the girl said brightly, bounding up with a grin. The boy — Ellan — nodded once, calm but sincere.
They didn't flinch. Didn't stare. Didn't recoil like most people did when they heard the word "undead."
Lexander stood slowly. His hands trembled. Not from weakness, but from the strange weight of being seen.
He walked to the edge of the shadow.
The sunlight was waiting.
He hesitated.
Then he summoned the barrier.
A silent wave washed over him — barely visible, humming low like distant thunder. It wrapped around him like a second skin.
He stepped out.
His breath caught.
The heat pressed against the barrier instantly. It was like holding his breath underwater. He could feel how long he had — how thin the layer between safety and agony was.
And then—
"You want to stay in the shadows forever?" Ellan asked softly.
His words were simple. But they pierced him.
He didn't mock him. Didn't challenge him. He just… asked.
And suddenly, that question shook Lexander more than sunlight ever had.
Because the truth was — he had stayed in the shadows. His whole life. Even when people offered kindness, he stayed back.
But not now.
He looked forward, into the sun. Into the light that threatened to burn him. And still… he stepped.
One foot. Then another.
The barrier hummed louder.
His breath was ragged. Not because he needed air —vbut because he wanted to feel alive.
Ellan didn't look away.
Neither did he.
If this was what it meant to walk with them — to be seen as something more than a shadow — he would do it. Even if it hurt. Even if he fell.
Because for the first time, someone saw him. Not the magic, not the bloodline.
Him.
And he would not stay in the shadows anymore.