My father sped down the narrow, winding road that snaked along the forest's edge. The cold spring had finally given way to a late-blooming summer, breathing new life into Kserton and its surroundings. The soft caps of snow had long since vanished, along with the anxieties of final exams.
I should have been happy—or at least relieved—since my results had exceeded my modest expectations. But instead, I kept shifting in my seat, restless with unease over the graduation party.
"You're awfully quiet," Kostya glanced at me briefly, both hands steady on the wheel.
"I'm still not sure going to celebrate with everyone is a good idea."
"You're ready."
"I'm not ready for anything."
"Ladies and gentlemen, once again, Asya Chernaya underestimates herself!" Kaandor practically sang into my ear from the back seat, making me jump at the sudden sound of his voice.
"Shut up."
My father shot me a sharp look, brimming with unspoken disapproval. I hurried to clarify.
"No, no, not you."
Kostya glanced at the rearview mirror, though he knew full well the spirit wouldn't show himself.
"Is he messing around again?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, at least someone's in a good mood today," my father smirked.
"That's exactly what worries me," I muttered, folding my arms and turning toward the window.
The landscape rushing past was oddly soothing. I had always loved how the forest transformed at sunset. In the twilight, colours softened, and the atmosphere turned more mysterious. Birds fell silent, the air shed the chaos of the day, and with every breath, it filled my lungs with tranquility—lulling the world of the living to sleep.
But in truth, peace had long since abandoned these lands.
"What if you and Denis can't handle things without me?"
"For starters, there's more than just the two of us on patrol tonight. And besides, we were doing just fine long before you even knew vampires existed—or what you were."
I rolled my eyes.
"Kserton wasn't always a contested territory, with multiple ancient clans trying to carve out a piece for themselves."
My father shrugged.
"It's a shame, really. Stas's mother left this world before she could truly experience a simple human life. She was the only one who could keep the other vampire clans at bay. No one would have dared lay a hand on the territory of a true pureblood if she were still alive. Strange, the vampire code of honor, isn't it?"
He paused for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel.
"Olga was a grown woman. She had seen much in her time. It was her family that owned the lumber mill and welcomed the first wanderers here. Kserton was as much her child as any of the Smirnovs. She knew exactly what risks she was taking. I suppose she decided her wards had grown enough, and it was finally time to live for herself. As for Vladimir, I believe that, out of love, the doctor gave his wife a true gift."
"Gifting your wife a slow, agonizing death with no chance of salvation is a pretty questionable present, don't you think?"
"I do," he admitted. "But I also respect Olga's wishes. Speak well of the dead, or not at all." His hand brushed over the steering wheel. "Remember that."
"So, does that mean you're willing to say something good about Galina just because she's dead? Need I remind you how she and Gleb kidnapped me, tried to kill me, and came after you?"
My father shot me a disapproving look, gripping the wheel a little tighter.
"Speak well or not at all. In Galina's case, 'not at all' will do just fine."
I had nothing to say to that, so silence settled over us again. Only my growing unease remained, gnawing at me from the inside. I worried for my father and for Denis, who had become a good friend after six grueling months of training together. If anything happened to either of them while I was off dancing at prom or soaking in the spa complex owned by Rostova's father, I would never forgive myself.
The car slowed as we turned past a hedge of tall shrubs, their dense greenery stretching inward to shield the hotel grounds from prying eyes. The construction of Tatyana's father's spa complex had only recently been completed, and the Rostovs were ready to welcome their first guests—us.
I had been skeptical when the principal first announced that our graduation celebration would take place there. I just couldn't picture us in fancy dresses with traditional graduate sashes, awkwardly loitering around a hammam or standing like mannequins around a pool. The idea of prom in a spa resort baffled me—not just me, actually. But most of my classmates and their parents quickly set aside their doubts the moment the principal mentioned that the spa was more of a hotel complex, where we'd get to spend almost a whole week, fully paid for by a very generous, anonymous benefactor.
Of course, no one had the slightest clue whose father had actually sponsored the whole thing, given that the principal had carefully kept the name secret. Right. Sure. Tatyana just miraculously avoided expulsion after spreading rumors about me. The scandal quietly died down, and she even delivered a public apology over the school PA system—reading off a script in the driest, most detached voice possible, as if someone had handed her a pre-approved statement designed to satisfy my thirst for justice while saving Rostova's ass.
After everything that happened on open house day, I already had more than enough problems and barely any energy left to deal with them. Waging war against the school's self-proclaimed queen just seemed… boring.
Had I forgiven Tanya? No. But over the past few months, we'd at least learned to ignore each other, keeping up appearances for the sake of our mutual friend—Dasha.
"Did you pack a swimsuit?" my father changed the subject.
"Of course."
"And a dress for the graduation ball?"
I hesitated for a moment.
When I first considered moving to Kserton, this day had been one of the deciding factors on my list of pros. I had dreamed of spending my final year in school differently, of experiencing prom without the pressure of classmates mocking my values just because they didn't align with theirs. But my plan to shed the "black sheep" label had failed spectacularly.
Yes, I had made friends. Kserton had brought me closer to my roots, revealing long-buried family secrets. And, unexpectedly, it had reunited my parents in the same town, so I no longer had to split myself between two places, searching for a home.
But every happy memory I had was tainted by the dark underbelly of the magical world. And my heart bore wounds that would likely never fully heal.
"I packed it, but I'm not sure I'll actually need it."
"Let yourself have fun for once. Just for a day! You're still so young." My father shook his head in frustration.
"If I let my guard down, even for a moment, Kaandor will start enjoying himself too."
"You are mistaken if you think I could ever do anything your soul does not already crave," my dark passenger whispered.
I didn't answer.
The debate over who was in control of this body had been going on for so long that it now felt as eternal as the world itself. My life had split into a before and after the day my father's legacy was unleashed, when the seal binding it had been broken, and I had met the spirit of the beast inside me.
Kaandor often liked to compare himself to a mirror during our late-night conversations. He claimed there was no real difference between us—except for how he made decisions in an instant, mistaking my fleeting impulses for the true desires of my heart and rushing to fulfill them. That was where my problems began.
I felt things too deeply, too vividly. And sometimes, my emotions burned so hot that they conjured living, moving images before my eyes. In those visions, not all the characters were kind to one another.
Because just as light and warmth lived within me, so did darkness.
Maybe other people experienced something similar. But in my case, my dark side had a dangerous flaw—it took any fleeting, violent thought as a direct order, like a student following a lab manual to the letter.
"And anyway," I continued, narrowing my eyes at my father, "where does your sudden sense of calm come from? You're really not worried I might attack Diana again? Or Arthur? Or worse, what if I lose control around a human this time?"
For a split second, Kostya's expression turned serious. A shadow of worry flickered in his eyes—brief, but I caught it. Still, he brushed the concern aside, doing his best to project confidence.
Oh, Dad. If only I could believe in myself the way you do.
"You've learned a lot in the past six months," he tried to reassure me. "If I thought you weren't ready, that you couldn't handle it, someone else would be patrolling with Denis instead. You've trained hard, strengthened your bond with your spirit. And there hasn't been a single incident at school all year—that alone says a lot."
I let out a short, dry laugh.
"There haven't been any incidents because I barely interact with anyone." I folded my arms. "I doubt anyone's even expecting me at prom."
"Well, you do talk to Diana and Dasha."
"Yeah, but only a little, and only at school. Most of the time, they only visit when you're around. That's not the same."
"And whose choice is that?" he asked. "No one's stopping you from leading a double life, Asya."
"You know exactly what's stopping me."
Blood.
A single drop was enough to drive me mad. Enough to shatter the fragile balance between my human heart and the beast's hunger.
"Don't tell me you stuffed your suitcase with books and plan to spend the entire week locked in your room."
Kostya tore his gaze away from the road and cast me a sidelong glance, one that clearly conveyed a single word: seriously?
'Two books for Dasha, I swear. And only one—for me.'
'With your appetite for reading, one book for a whole week is hardly enough. Alright, I'm reassured.'
Since my father seemed satisfied with this answer, I decided not to clarify that Dasha and I had agreed to exchange a few novels from our personal collections, and she had promised to bring something for me to the spa retreat as well. I had long wanted to read a fantasy novel about the fae, while Dasha was eager to explore the works of Emily Brontë. I could have simply picked up something suitable at a bookshop, but there was no guarantee that Dasha hadn't already read it—meaning we wouldn't be able to discuss the story afterwards.
The pages of novels carried me far beyond the boundaries of reality, granting me at least a brief respite from my troubles. Sometimes, however, even during reading, reality would peer over my shoulder, making loud comments on a particular passage, forcing me to pause and mutter, 'Kaandor, shut up.'
My dark companion took a keen interest in everything that captivated me, though I wasn't sure whether his curiosity was genuine or simply a consequence of our inescapable bond—one that severely limited his ability to seek out his own diversions. Without me, his anchor, he could not roam freely across the earth. Not that it seemed to bother him much.
We drove a little further before my father turned onto a long, paved road, guiding the car slowly forward until we were met by an ornate wrought-iron gate, its intricate lines forming an elaborate design. Looking closer, I realised that the bars had been shaped into flowers with pointed leaves and clustered petals—one large bloom in the centre encircled by five smaller ones, giving the impression of a star-shaped core.
Above the gates, a bright woven banner fluttered in the breeze, its inscription reading:
WELCOME TO THE EDELWEISS GARDEN
My father gave two short beeps of the horn and waited. The gates obediently swung open, allowing us to enter.
A little further on, the living fence gave way to an open view of the resort grounds, and the sight before me took my breath away. To the left of the road stretched an endless meadow, wildflowers swaying in the golden glow of the setting sun. It was a mesmerising riot of colour, yet at the same time, it served as a quiet reminder of how quickly the sun could burn if one strayed too close.
'Here we are,' Kostya declared in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone, as if trying to lift my spirits. 'Just one more week, and school will be nothing but a memory.'
'Yeah…' was all I managed to say, as anxiety crept through me like a slow, spreading tide.
There was no way this trip was going to end well.