The tunnel wound deeper into the mountain like the throat of some great beast, its walls slick with moisture and carved with symbols that seemed to writhe in the torchlight. Edward moved beside me, his golden eyes scanning every shadow, his gift reaching out for any hint of hostile intention. Kaelen brought up the rear, his young face set in determined lines, his amber eyes bright with the memory of everyone he'd lost.
We'd been walking for what felt like hours. The sounds of battle—the clash of vampire against vampire, the screams of the wounded, the roar of ancient powers colliding—had faded behind us, swallowed by the mountain's endless silence. Now there was only the drip of water, the whisper of our footsteps, and the steady pulse of my own heart.
"She knows we're coming," Edward murmured. "I can feel it—a presence, ancient and cold, waiting for us."
"Good." I surprised myself with the word. "Let her wait. Let her wonder. Let her fear."
Kaelen shot me a look. "You think she's capable of fear?"
"Everyone's capable of fear." I met his eyes steadily. "Even ancient monsters. Especially ancient monsters. Fear is what drives them—fear of death, fear of irrelevance, fear of losing control. The Priestess has been running from fear for millennia. She just calls it something else."
"What does she call it?"
"Purpose. Destiny. The greater good." I smiled—and it wasn't a human smile. "But underneath all that, she's just a scared old woman who's terrified of being forgotten."
Edward's hand found mine, squeezing gently. "When did you get so wise?"
"I had good teachers." I squeezed back. "Now let's go find ourselves a monster."
The tunnel opened into a vast cavern, its ceiling lost in darkness, its walls lined with torches that burned with an eerie blue flame. At the center, on a raised dais of black stone, stood a woman.
She was beautiful—terrifyingly beautiful—with hair like spun silver and eyes the color of frozen fire. Her skin was pale as marble, her features perfect as sculpture, her smile the most dangerous thing I'd ever seen. She wore robes of deep crimson that seemed to drink the light, and in her hands she held a staff topped with a crystal that pulsed with an inner glow.
"Eleanor Vance." Her voice was music and poison, beautiful and terrible. "I've waited so long to meet you."
"You're the Priestess." It wasn't a question.
"I am." She descended from the dais, moving with fluid grace. "Though that's not my true name. My true name was lost long ago, buried under centuries of duty and purpose. You may call me what you like—it won't change what's about to happen."
"And what's that?"
"You're going to join me." She smiled—a thin, cold expression. "Not because I'll force you—though I could—but because when you hear what I have to say, you'll understand. You'll see that everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed, has been for a purpose greater than any of us."
"I doubt that."
"Indulge me." She gestured, and the crystal on her staff flared with light. Images appeared in the air around us—scenes of battle, of suffering, of vampires and hybrids dying in endless war. "You see? This is what the world looks like without order. Without control. Without someone willing to make the hard choices."
"And you're that someone?"
"I'm the only one with the strength to do what needs to be done." The images shifted, showing hybrids fighting alongside vampires, then turning on them, destroying everything they'd built. "Your kind—hybrids—you're powerful. More powerful than any vampire, any human, any creature that's ever lived. But power without control is chaos. And chaos destroys everything it touches."
"So you want to control us."
"I want to save us." Her eyes blazed with fervor. "The prophecy—the real one—says that three hybrids will rise and either unite the tribes or tear them apart. I've seen what happens when hybrids are left to their own devices. I've watched civilizations crumble, millions die, entire species wiped from existence. I won't let that happen again."
"You're mad." Kaelen's voice was sharp with anger. "You killed my family. You took everyone I loved. And you stand there talking about saving people?"
The Priestess's gaze flicked to him, and something cold passed across her features. "Ah, the sanctuary survivor. I wondered when you'd appear. You're the one who ran, aren't you? The one who abandoned your post, your duties, your people, to satisfy your own desires."
Kaelen flinched. "That's not—"
"It's exactly what happened." Her voice was gentle now, almost kind—which made it worse. "You were with the girl, weren't you? Lyra. You were so wrapped up in your little romance that you didn't notice my army approaching. And because of that, everyone you loved is dead—or worse."
"Stop." I stepped forward, placing myself between the Priestess and Kaelen. "You don't get to blame him for your atrocities. You made the choice to attack. You made the choice to take those hybrids. You're responsible for your own evil."
"Evil." The Priestess laughed—a cold, brittle sound. "You think this is about good and evil? Child, I've been alive since before your ancestors learned to walk upright. I've seen empires rise and fall, gods born and forgotten, entire species evolve into extinction. There is no good and evil—only order and chaos. Only survival and destruction."
"And you've decided that survival means killing innocents?"
"I've decided that survival means making hard choices. Choices that people like you—soft, loved, protected—could never understand." Her eyes burned into mine. "You've had it easy, Eleanor. A family who loves you, a boy who adores you, powers that came to you without effort or sacrifice. You've never had to do what I've done. Never had to sacrifice what I've sacrificed."
"You're right." I met her gaze steadily. "I've never had to murder children or enslave my own kind. I've never had to justify atrocity with lofty ideals. And I never will."
For a moment—just a moment—something flickered in her frozen-fire eyes. Doubt, maybe. Or pain. Then it was gone, replaced by cold certainty.
"Then you leave me no choice." She raised her staff, and the cavern filled with shadows. "If you won't join me willingly, you'll join me by force. And when the process is complete, you'll thank me for it."
The shadows attacked.
They weren't just darkness—they were alive, sentient, hungry. They wrapped around us like living chains, dragging at our limbs, clouding our vision, filling our minds with fear and despair.
Edward fought beside me, his gift allowing him to anticipate the shadows' movements, but even he was struggling. Kaelen cried out as they seized him, pulling him toward the Priestess.
"Let him go!" I screamed, throwing myself at the shadows.
They wrapped around me too, cold and suffocating, and for a terrible moment, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The Priestess's face swam before me, beautiful and terrible, her eyes blazing with triumph.
"Fight it," a voice whispered in my mind—Darius's voice, somehow reaching me through the darkness. "Fight it, Eleanor. You're stronger than she knows."
The bond blazed to life.
Mira. Cassandra. I felt them through the connection, felt their love, their strength, their determination. They were fighting too, somewhere in the stronghold, facing their own battles. But they were with me. Always with me.
I reached for the bond and pulled.
Power flooded through me—the power of every guardian who'd ever lived, every hybrid who'd come before, every soul connected to me through blood and choice. The shadows screamed as I tore through them, their cold substance dissolving in the warmth of my rage.
The Priestess's eyes widened. "Impossible—"
"You wanted to know what happens when three hybrids bond by choice instead of design?" I stepped toward her, the shadows fleeing before me. "This is what happens. This is what you never anticipated. This is your blind spot."
I hit her with everything I had.
The battle that followed was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
The Priestess was old—older than anyone I'd faced. She'd survived millennia by being faster, stronger, smarter than her enemies. But she'd never faced anyone like me. Anyone connected to powers she couldn't understand.
We fought across the cavern, our movements too fast for human eyes to track. Edward joined me when he could, his gift letting him anticipate her attacks, but even he struggled to keep up. Kaelen, freed from the shadows, fought beside us, his grief and rage giving him strength he didn't know he had.
But it wasn't enough.
The Priestess was too strong, too experienced, too ancient. Slowly, inexorably, she pushed us back.
"You see?" she gasped between attacks. "This is what I've been trying to tell you. Power without control—without direction—leads to chaos. You have all this strength, all this potential, and you waste it on sentiment. On love. On family."
"Love isn't a waste." I blocked her strike, countering with one of my own. "Love is the only thing that makes any of this worthwhile."
"Love is weakness." She slammed me against the wall, her face inches from mine. "Love is what made me weak, once. Love is what I had to destroy to become what I am."
I stared into her frozen-fire eyes, and for a moment, I saw it—the pain beneath the madness. The grief beneath the rage. The girl she'd been, long ago, before centuries of war had twisted her into something monstrous.
"You didn't destroy love," I whispered. "You buried it. There's a difference."
She faltered—just for an instant. But an instant was all I needed.
I struck.
The Priestess lay on the ground, broken but not dead. Her frozen-fire eyes stared up at me, and in them I saw something I hadn't expected: relief.
"You did it," she whispered. "You actually did it."
"I did." I knelt beside her, my hand still raised to strike the final blow. "Any last words?"
"Only one." Her eyes found mine. "Darius was right about you."
I froze. "Darius? What do you know about Darius?"
A ghost of a smile crossed her ravaged face. "Everything. He's my brother."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Brother. Darius was the Priestess's brother.
"That's impossible," Edward said, appearing at my side. "Darius would have told us—"
"Would he?" The Priestess's laugh was a broken, bitter sound. "Would he tell you that he's been running from me for millennia? That he blames himself for what I became? That he's spent centuries trying to find a way to save me, even when I didn't want to be saved?"
I stared at her, my mind racing. "If Darius is your brother, then—"
"Then everything he told you was true. The prophecy, the threat, the need to stop me—all true. But he left out one detail." Her eyes met mine. "He left out that I'm not the real enemy."
"Then who is?"
"Someone older than me. Older than Darius. Older than the Architects." Her voice was fading now, her strength leaving her. "The one who made me what I am. The one who's been pulling strings since before recorded history. The one who wants the hybrids for reasons even I don't fully understand."
"Who?" I demanded. "Tell me who."
But her eyes were closing, her body going still. "Find... the Archive. In the mountains... north of here. Everything... you need to know..."
"Priestess!"
But she was gone—not dead, but unconscious, her body finally succumbing to the wounds I'd inflicted. I stared at her still face, my mind spinning with implications.
Darius's sister. A hidden enemy. An Archive in the mountains.
"What now?" Kaelen asked quietly.
I looked at Edward, at the boy who'd lost everything and still found the strength to fight. I thought of Mira and Cassandra, somewhere in this stronghold, facing their own battles. I thought of the family waiting for us, counting on us, believing in us.
"Now we find the others," I said. "And then we figure out what the hell is really going on."
We found Mira and Cassandra in the lower levels of the stronghold, surrounded by the hybrids they'd freed. Lyra was among them—Kaelen cried out when he saw her, running to embrace her, holding her like he'd never let go.
The others were dazed, confused, but alive. The Priestess's process had only just begun for most of them—they were scared, but they were themselves. They could be healed.
"We did it," Mira breathed, pulling me into a hug. "We actually did it."
"We did part of it." I held her tight, then pulled Cassandra into the embrace. "But it's not over. The Priestess said something—about a hidden enemy, about someone older pulling the strings. We need to find Darius. Now."
Darius was waiting for us at the entrance to the stronghold, his ancient face grave. Behind him, the Cullens and Selene tended to the wounded, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and relief.
"You know," I said. It wasn't a question.
"I know." His voice was heavy. "I should have told you. I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid—afraid you wouldn't trust me, afraid you'd think I was like her, afraid of losing the family I'd just found."
"Your sister—"
"Is the product of millennia of manipulation. She wasn't always like this. She was kind once. Loving. Brave." His eyes closed. "And then they found her. The real enemy. They twisted her, broke her, remade her into what she is today. By the time I found out, it was too late to save her."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know their true name. They've been called many things over the centuries—the First Ones, the Ancients, the Originals. They predate everything—the Volturi, the Architects, even the first vampires. They've been watching, waiting, manipulating for longer than recorded history."
"And they want hybrids?"
"They want everything. Control. Power. Dominion over all supernatural beings." Darius met my eyes. "The Priestess—my sister—was just a tool. A means to an end. And now that she's failed, they'll send someone else. Something else."
The weight of his words pressed down on all of us. We'd won a battle, but the war was far from over.
"Then we'll be ready." I looked at my family—my mother, my sisters, my love, my friends. "Together."
"Together," they echoed.
And in the distance, the Blood Moon rose over the mountains, painting the world in shades of crimson and shadow.
End of Chapter Three