I’d been having... dreams… no, visions, more like. Even when I was wide awake, they slithered into my mind, creeping up on me like shadows that didn’t belong. It was like I was standing in the fields… Death’s dimension. These dreams weren’t of the familiar woods or the endless expanse where Death usually roamed. No, these were darker, more visceral. They were of the graveyard, the fields of decay that were born from the body of the Primeval… Myoordrakien.

In those moments, I could see it, a grotesque, colossal corpse stretched out before me. Its body was a landscape of ruin, desiccated flesh stretched tight over ancient bones that groaned with the weight of time. The air was thick with the stench of rot, choking, clinging to my skin. Its vast form, despite its lifelessness, still pulsed with some malignant energy, a sickening, slow rhythm. The last flickers of life throbbed through it, faint but unyielding.

Then I’d see it… the heart pounding steadily like an engine of destruction. It was bloated, red, and glowing like some foul ember buried deep in its chest. It beat, slow and deliberate, the sound hammering my skull like a monstrous metronome, dragging me toward it. Each pulse sent a wave of dread through me, a sick pull that I couldn’t shake. It wanted something from me. Something more than it had gotten before. It wanted… free.

I’d snap out of it, heart pounding, the images clinging to me like cobwebs. But the sensation lingered, the pull... as if that decaying thing in the fields was still watching, still calling, with that damned heartbeat echoing in my head. I could feel the beat of my own heart, in rhythm with it, synced to the power… bound to it more than ever before.

Then, I started to realize something was terribly wrong. My eyes… they’d shifted. Not just a momentary flicker… a slip in control… no, this was different. My human blue eyes were gone, swallowed by an inky blackness that filled the entire socket. I stared at myself in the cracked mirror of Martin’s safe house bathroom, panic rising like bile in my throat. There was no white, no trace of blue, just black, endless and unnatural. My heart raced as I leaned closer to the glass, willing them to change back, to return to what they should be. But nothing happened.

I gripped the edge of the sink, my knuckles white, trying to steady my breathing. What the hell was happening? I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing every ounce of energy on pushing it down, forcing the blackness away, locking the monster back in the cage where it belonged. When I opened them again, I saw the faintest hint of blue, like a flicker of hope. But it felt like trying to hold my breath underwater, agonizing, suffocating. As soon as I let up, even the tiniest bit, the darkness surged back in, swirling over my irises, devouring them whole again.

It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t go away.

The mirror seemed to mock me as I stared into those hollow, black voids, my reflection looking more like a stranger, something twisted and wrong. My breath quickened, heart thudding in my chest, as I realized the truth: the monster was slipping out, clawing its way into the light, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shove it back. It was out… just enough, and I had no control over the aspect of my being that it had taken over. A creeping dread sank into me, a horrible, gnawing fear that this was only the beginning. Something inside me was changing, something beyond my control, and I was powerless to stop it. Was Death behind this? Was this the Primeval? I thought I understood everything now… what I was meant for… meant to do. None of this made sense. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was panicking, making things worse than they were.

It was only a split second, but I heard something. Not audibly, but inside my head. It was just like when I was in that hellscape, where Peter Grimwood had ditched me in hopes that his benefactor, the Unseen Primeval would kill me. But, the Unseen spoke to me… inside my head. It was unusual, but absolute. A mental voice, not as strong as when Death called for me, but powerful in its own way.

This new voice spoke one word to me telepathically, but it sounded like a freight train growling past my brain.

“KILL!”

It hit me harder than words ever could; a violent flash of darkness that swallowed my mind whole, my vision vanishing into an all-consuming void. The blackness tore through my thoughts like a thunderclap, leaving nothing but echoes and vibrations that rattled through the empty space around me. It was as if I was suddenly standing in pure nothingness… no sound, no ground, no air, just a crushing sense of isolation. But then, in a blinding instant, something massive appeared in front of me.

A colossal shadow loomed in the void, an impossible shape that swallowed the darkness itself. For a brief, horrifying moment, its form became clear with the pulse of its blood-red heart… a light so sinister it seemed to burn from within. The ruby glow flared through its thick, blackened flesh, seeping outward like molten lava. With each beat, the light surged and revealed dark, jagged lines deep within its massive chest, casting a silhouette of the bones that formed this monstrous thing. The ribcage, vast and angular, stretched beneath its skin, like a cage of ancient stone, framing the heart’s deadly pulse as if it were barely containing the raw power within.

Jagged black scales rose like the sides of a cliff, towering into the darkness above. Vast wings unfurled with slow, menacing power, stretching wide as if they could swallow everything around us. Sharp black spikes of bone gouged deep into the unseen ground of this void beneath me, anchoring the beast in place. It stood there, motionless, staring at me. And then, like a shudder of realization, I knew where we were.

This was inside my mind. The cage. The place I had locked away the worst of myself. This was Myoordrakien. We were in the cage together.

Every inch of it radiated violence, its jagged spikes and writhing, razor-edged tentacles poised to tear apart the world. Its eyes… black, endless voids bored into me. They weren’t just watching. They were devouring me, stripping away everything inside me, swallowing every shred of hope, and leaving nothing behind but the dark certainty of its presence.

The single word echoed in my mind again, primal and absolute.

“KILL!”

I jumped back from the sink, my heart beating harder in surprise. “What the fuck?” I took a few deep breaths, still gazing upon my pitch-black eyes in the mirror, my hands shaking at my sides as I retreated from the experience. My breath came in ragged and stunned.

Very quickly, I left. I had to get out of there. The cold cut through me as soon as I stepped out of the safe house. The wind almost took the door off its hinges as I opened it. Snow packed under my boots; the quiet woods blanketed in white. I made my way into town, pacing, hoping I could push the blackness from my eyes. I had to get out of the safe house, away from what was happening, and the voice. I was an idiot because the safehouse had nothing to do with it.

The streets were empty. It was a ghost town under the weight of the frigid storm. I was walking down an unarmed road, nothing remarkable about it. The streetlights began to flicker as I passed cars parallel parked on the curb. I started looking around, curious about the lights and what was causing the disturbance. I passed by a truck, the window bouncing the surroundings back like a perfect mirror in the night. My steps faltered. I only caught it out of the corner of my eye, but something wasn’t right.

It was me, but not. The reflection stared back, cold, lifeless, the edges of my features sharper, the eyes empty black. It didn’t move as I did but held a stance separate from what I was doing. It wasn’t my reflection, but an entity of its own staring back at me. I should’ve known.

"Sam," the reflection said in my own voice… only flatter, devoid of anything human. Death had never appeared like this to me before.

I took a breath and forced myself to keep steady. "This is… new?" I said, keeping my voice low, and controlled.

Death’s reflection didn’t shift. His gaze held mine, still and unnerving. "As you grow in knowledge, so do we in bond. I will be able to communicate with you more freely now in the physical world."

I nodded, waiting for whatever was coming next. I didn’t question him, knowing what he said was fact.

"You’re planning to go into the pits," he continued, as though reading my thoughts. "Abel spoke of the deal that was made?"

“Yeah,” I said. Warily, I asked a question myself, “What kind of deal is this? Is this something you want… or something for… someone else?” I recalled the things Abel had said to me on his front porch not too long ago.

Death smiled in the reflection… it was disturbing. “It is the machinations of another… but it serves me in the grander scheme.”

The cold wind whipped around me as I stood, staring into the reflection on the truck window.

“So… I can go down there and kill anything I want? Abel wants me to burn that place to the ground. It won't upset the balance?” I asked though a dozen more questions were clawing to get out.

The corners of his lips twitched in response, but it wasn’t a smile. There was no warmth, no humor, only that unnerving neutrality. “I’ll allow it,” he said, his voice flat, almost hollow.

The way he said it sent a chill crawling up my spine, sharper than the icy wind cutting through the streets. His head tilted, as if curious, but it was a lifeless gesture, purely mechanical.

“But,” Death added, his gaze piercing through me, “there’s a condition.”

I felt the weight of the blade hanging just outside the physical world, tethered to me from the other side of existence. A part of me I rarely used, but always knew was there, never truly understanding its purpose. Then… I felt it disappear.

“You’re taking the blade from me?” I blinked, the words coming out before I could stop them. “Now? Why?” I didn’t even know why I was asking. I barely used it, yet some deep instinct within me recoiled at the thought of being separated from it.

Death’s eyes remained as cold as the night. “The blade is more than just a weapon, Sam. It is my mark upon you, a direct link between us. Where you are going, into the pits… my presence cannot follow. If you carry the blade, it will disrupt what must happen. Things are already set in motion, and they cannot be altered. You’d be walking down there waving my flag… and then she’d run…”

“She…” I asked ominously.

Death’s face went blank again, with no hint of clues in his face… my face. “In time.”

I stood there, my reflection staring back at me, that familiar hollowness behind Death’s eyes making my skin crawl. “So… what does this mean?” I asked, my voice low, almost a whisper, though I already knew the answer.

“The Primeval,” he said, his words calm, but they seemed to darken the air around us. “Myoordrakien’s power in you. It’s not just the monster you shift into. It’s a force of pure destruction, a doom that you have failed to harness. You must bind closer to it, deeper than ever before. You’ve been keeping it at bay, afraid of what it will make you in this human world. But in the pits, you will need it. You’ll need to let it consume you if you want to survive.”

My throat tightened. I glanced down, feeling the thrum of Myoordrakien’s heartbeat growing louder inside me. My heart didn’t feel like it was beating anymore, but thrumming continuously… like the constant rushing of a massive river. My chest vibrated, my blood was boiling, and every cell of my body carried a portion of Primeval life force. It was always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. A power too great for this world, too dark for me to control fully. If I said I wasn't scared in the deepest parts of my soul… I’d be a liar. What would it mean if I became even more of this thing?

“It's doing something… it's taking over!” I said, pointing to my own black eyes.

“It is. It wants to grow. It wants to merge further with you. This is the path of every person that has served in this role. You need to stop resisting, and let him in…” Death spoke calmly.

Let him in? What was that supposed to even mean? What was next, after my eyes, my teeth, my mouth? Would it slowly turn me further and further from human? Would I walk this world in monstrous form forever?

“And if I don’t?” The question left my lips before I could stop it, though I already knew the answer.

Death’s expression didn’t shift, not even a flicker of emotion. “Then you will be the one to disrupt the balance, Sam. The task you are so eager to undertake will fail, and with it, the plans I’ve spent centuries crafting. You will derail everything, including yourself.” He eyed me curiously, seeing right to my core and the thoughts that plagued me. “In time, you will learn your fears are holding you back.”

I swallowed, the pulse of the Primeval humming through my veins. Destruction… somehow it was an emotion surging through my body. Every cell in my body flexed and reached out, searching for death… annihilation. It transformed my thoughts, creating a will in me to want to kill and destroy. It consumed my mind. The pits were waiting. The darkness there… I would need more of the monster's power than ever before. I would need everything I had… and more. But what would that mean?

“You’re not just losing the blade,” Death continued, his voice low and steady, “you’re giving up our direct connection… for a time. You will be alone down there, Sam. No guiding hand, no whispers of my blade. Only your Primeval… and you.”

I was interested to ask this next thought. An old “plan B” returning to my mind. “Can I die down there?”

Death nodded, “Yes. However,” a sly grin on his face, “you would return to me. It is not your death you need to be concerned about. Like I told you before, there are places you can be trapped. After killing the Unseen, other Primevals took notice. They don’t know that it is I who hunts them, but they know their brother was slain. They feel his power retracting from the world and plains of existence. Without the direct connection to me, you could be trapped in the pits, with no way to summon my power as you did against the Unseen.”

I stared at the door of the truck, not looking at death for a moment. “There's a lot more you’re not telling me… isn’t there?”

“Naturally,” Death spoke plainly, hiding nothing about the fact that he was keeping things from me. More than that… it was like he didn’t need me to know everything. I was meant for a very specific task… and that was the information he gave me. It started to make me feel… small.

“And when it’s done?” I asked, my voice barely audible now, the weight of what was coming pressing down on me. “What happens then… do I get the blade back? Will this thing inside me stop trying to take over?”

Death didn’t smile, but there was something in his expression that felt almost… satisfied. “When it’s done,” he said calmly, “you’ll understand why you had to do it this way. Why the Primeval inside you is your true weapon. Then… you’ll thank me.”

His words hung in the air like a cold breath, and then he was gone. His reflection dissolved into the frost-covered glass, leaving my true reflection staring back at me, and mimicking my movements.

He was gone, as was the blade. Death's words hit me harder than I expected. The moment he was gone, it felt strange. I felt detached… aimless. Death's departure left me feeling a loss of something only recently gained. As he vanished with the death blade, I truly felt something had changed. It was just me… and the monster inside. If Death was watching me… I didn’t feel it. The only presence I felt was the never-ending force of murderous wrath that raged in my core. Part of me felt like Death had just turned me loose, and was allowing me to strike out on my own for a while. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited, and also terrified. What if I fucked up? What if the Primeval took over completely… and I was just a memory of a man? What exactly was Death aiming for here? Part of me knew he wasn’t telling me things, and another part thought that whatever I was doing for Abel… wasn’t exactly what Death was playing along with. Death had his own plans. Again I felt like a pawn in much larger schemes.

However… the pits were waiting. And now, without the blade, so was I. The monster inside stirred, eager for what was to come. And I had no choice but to let it out when the time came.

First… I needed to see Carter. I wanted to go talk with him about what I needed to do. To see if he had heard anything about Charles, or the pits from any contacts he might have. I also needed to speak with him about Autumn, and the big secret I had revealed to her. I had told her the absolute truth that I had very recently come to realize. That Death himself was the one pulling my strings. That I was given my power and purpose in this dark, second life by the Grim Reaper… to keep some kind of balance that I couldn’t interpret. She did not take it well. Her physical body reacted to it, almost running from the truth. I wanted to make sure she was alright too; and if she was, tell Carter and Eleanor what I had told Autumn.

One more thing weighed me down. Patrick, Peter, and the hairbrush. That sounded like a bad movie or some kind of dark children's book. But it settled over me as a lethargic haze. Patrick had something of Autumn’s… something that Peter Grimwood had cursed. I had to know what it was meant for… what it could do…

I started walking in the direction of the Chasse familial home… to see my friends once again. I just hoped my eyes wouldn’t scare them, because they were not turning back. They were inhuman and hungry.

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I was numb to the world. I was walking; left then right, left then right. I had to be like this again. With the blackness still taking over my eyes, and the monster inside still trying to expand outwards from its cage, it was already hard. Once I had spoken with Carter… everything got more unstable.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Autumn… was no longer mine. Any tether that bound us together had been severed. Why did she not say anything the other night? Maybe it was the truth that I shared with her. Maybe it was the straw that broke the camel's back. She just couldn’t keep finding reasons to ignore my monstrous reality. Or it was Patrick. He had done something… I didn't know.

Not to mention, Seth was in town. His presence terrified me. It was one thing to think I was ready to go back and somehow return to my family with the truth; it was another thing entirely to find out that Seth was so close… right in the middle of my current predicaments. He had spoken with Carter. He was getting wrapped up in the city, with the police, chasing down Carter and the family. He was on the hunt… and I was scared of what he’d find… or what would find him. With how much the Primeval was clawing to get out, to expand the territory of its control in my mind, fears for my brother's safety swarmed me. Old fears cropped up. Thoughts of hiding away to keep them all safe returned. I shook my head… nothing was ever as easy as it seemed in my best moments.

Two personal explosions had derailed me from my quiet calm of coming to the truth. Everything I thought was coming next, once Peter was dead, had been sidelined. Now I had to deal with this Seth situation, Autumn and Patrick, and whatever that all meant. Not to mention I had to gain entry into the pits… go down there and raise hell. I had been let off the leash, Death giving me authority to go down there and slaughter for reasons he hadn’t fully explained. All the while the Primeval inside my soul was clawing for more power in my life… to merge with me even further. I was scared of what that meant; for me, for Autumn… if that even mattered anymore, for Seth, Vicky, my family… my daughter… Caydee. Just when I thought I was in a good place… life explodes and throws all my carefully laid plans down the shitter.

I went to the next place I thought I would find a lead, also trying to distance myself from Carter's house. I tried not to think about everything Carter had just said to me. If I did, I feared my grip on the wheel might slip… and I’d lose control. With how much pressure I felt from inside the cage… I couldn’t. I tried to just think about my goal, getting inside the pits. I needed to talk to Martin. I’d have time to feel sorry for myself later; to go over what had just happened with Autumn.

The bar was dimly lit by the warm glow of low-hanging lights. The amber orbs barely cut through the haze of cigarette smoke and the hum of low conversations. Some nights, when older… much older patrons visited Martin’s place, it had this timeless feel to it. Like it was stuck somewhere between old-world elegance and modern decay. Dark wood lined the walls, the tables scattered haphazardly with drinks, while patrons, mostly vampires, sat in shadowed corners. Nights like these weren’t meant for the young bloods of the city, but older, more powerful leeches. It was notable how much more civilized these vampires were. The calm, calculated observations in their eyes were a far cry from the frenzied, chaotic whims of the newly turned. They had tamed their urges, enough to blend into society much more seamlessly. I memorized every face. Future possibilities.

I pushed the heavy door open, the cool air from outside clashing with the musky warmth of the room. My boots scuffed against the worn hardwood as I made my way toward the bar. I kept my hood up, trying my best to conceal my black eyes from anyone else besides Martin. I had to play it calm… not draw too much attention… yet. It was strange… I truly felt like a monster hiding in the shadows, even in my human form. A part of the Primeval was leaking out, and I had to skulk around unlike any other time of this dreadful life.

I hoped I’d see Alex, and reconnect with her after the last time we spoke; when I came to her apartment during the daylight hours. I was curious if she’d be as friendly as she was that day… once she cooled off and dropped her hand from my throat after I broke into her home.

Alex, the cannibalistic vampire, an Anthropophagus as some called her, was a predator in her own right. She fed on her own kind, a killer of killers like myself, though her methods were far more blood related. Her straight, crimson hair cascaded down her back like a river of scarlet silk, a stark contrast to the pale perfection of her skin. Her figure was fit with muscle, yet voluptuous, in all the ways that drew attention. Twisting tattoos curved and traced the lines of her back and arms; markings from a different part of her life… when she was still human. Her body was a weapon in itself, designed to entice and ensnare. The way her tight, revealing attire clung to every curve left little to the imagination, always strategically suggestive without giving away too much. She knew exactly how to play with desire, flashing glimpses of smooth skin, the curve of her breasts, her long legs barely concealed beneath short skirts that made her look like a walking temptation.

But it wasn’t just her looks that made her dangerous. She was strong… much stronger than any normal vampire; even stronger than those like Martin… maybe even Charles. So far I hadn’t seen her get tossed around by someone else yet.

Young, reckless vampires were drawn to her, seduced by the promise of something unattainable. They would follow her, captivated by her beauty, their lust-filled minds craving the flesh they saw, unaware that they were stepping into the jaws of a beast. Beneath that alluring surface, behind the seductive smiles and lingering touches, was a hunger… an insatiable darkness that was quenched by only one thing; the blood of vampires. It was a part of her, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. By the time her prey realized what she truly was, it was already too late.

She usually worked the bar here, her sharp eyes scanning the room as if she were always hunting. The dim lighting barely touched her pale skin, but it made the blood-red tint of her lips stand out like a warning.

I glanced around, half-expecting her to materialize from the shadows, watching me with that knowing gaze of hers, the one that always seemed to see me as another asshole for her to kill one day. She wasn’t there. I knew she wasn’t, but still, I found myself searching for her, almost wanting to hear her sarcastic quip or feel the weight of her judgment.

I had gone to her once before, after I’d seen the vision of Patrick speaking with Peter. She had listened, but with a cold detachment, refusing to get involved, though her eyes had hinted at agreeing that it might be something, hoping it wasn’t. She wasn’t one to take sides against Martin, and she didn’t think, at the time, he would be on board with making such an accusation. But she would be my alibi if I ever decided to reach out and grab Patrick by the throat. If it turned out he’d twisted something inside Autumn, or if the power Peter had placed in that brush hadn’t died with him, Alex would know. And when the time came, she’d be able to tell everyone that I had tried to get help before it all went to hell; that I was waiting… watching.

But tonight, Alex was gone, and her absence gnawed at me like an itch I couldn’t scratch. She knew the truth… and somehow I started to view her as a friend that I could relate to, someone I considered more of an actual friend in the dark world. Even more so than Martin. From the outside looking in that was probably not so obvious, but it was true. At the heart of everything, Alex and I shared something very critical in common; we both hated what we had become, and our lives had been stolen from us.

I saw Martin polishing the bar top as I approached, deep in concentration. His form and care told me this was the only pressing issue in his world at that moment. He tended the polished wood with the utmost care. With Peter dead, their problems had ended. Until now, that is.

Martin had sharp, angular features that seemed both youthful and ancient at once. His dark hair combed back in a style of earlier times. There was an intensity to his slightly red eyes, not the vibrant crimson of a straight predator, but more a faint glow… subtle, restrained, yet still unmistakably vampiric. He seemed to be flexing his power, keeping an aura of death around him to blend in with these old boys lingering around his club. His expression was usually calm and measured, but those eyes held centuries of weariness, the weight of secrets and experiences he rarely shared outside of the Chasse family. However, he had to keep up appearances. The vampire bar’s owner, Martin, had to seem like a normal blood drinker. If any of these patrons figured out that he was harboring a family of monster hunters, who loved to slaughter their kind, it wouldn’t end well. So, Martin seemed a lot rougher on this night, playing his role well.

He looked up as I approached, his eyes widening, and for a split second, he froze. It was subtle, but I caught it… the way his hand stopped mid-wipe, the slight parting of his lips. He didn’t expect to see me. Not ever again after I had disappeared with Peter Grimwood. Carter must not have told him after I left his property. It had just been earlier that same night, but I knew they spoke often, keeping each other in the loop.

"Sam." Martin’s voice was soft, careful as if he wasn’t sure it was really me. He set the rag down, leaning on the counter, his eyes scanning me like he was trying to make sense of something impossible. "I… thought you might be dead…" He laughed for a moment to himself… “Should’ve known better.”

I sat down on one of the stools, shaking off the snow from my jacket. The warmth of the bar seeped into my skin, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the chill in my bones. I met my black gaze into his bloodred eyes. "Yeah," I muttered, giving him a fake smile. "Seems I’ve got a habit of coming back."

Martin blinked, still staring at my shifted eyes in the middle of his bar. He glanced around at the unaware bystanders, worried one of them would see me. “Sam… you…” he trailed off. He didn’t see any aggressiveness or anything else to worry about in my gaze, just the silent watchful eyes of the Primeval staring into him. I could tell it made him uneasy, but he found the resolve to keep talking. "You were in there… that hell-plain" He stopped himself, lowering his voice, his gaze darting toward a couple of patrons nearby. "That place… no one comes back from that, Sam. How are you here?" He looked me over again, head to toe, assessing me. His eyes settled on the reflection of himself in my obsidian eyes, unsure of anything about me. “Are you alright?”

I wasn’t but that’s not what I was here for. I wanted nothing more than to dive into what I had just heard from Carter. That my brother, Seth had arrived in the city… that Autumn… she… changed. Something with her wasn’t right. I could probably get Martin to look into Patrick and the brush now, especially since I had already told Carter. But… I didn’t. I had one single pressing issue that outweighed the rest. Plus, Carter knew his daughter… he’d watch Autumn, and he’d call for help if he needed it. From how he told me… Autumn was happy. She was safe. It was just… I don’t know what it was.

I shrugged, leaning my elbows on the bar. "Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you over a drink." I nodded toward the bottle behind him. He didn’t hesitate, grabbing it casually and pouring us both a glass. He topped the liquid with a light sprinkle of yellow dust from a small glass vial beneath the counter.

He slid mine across the bar before taking a long, slow sip of his own. His eyes never left me, though, as if I’d vanish if he blinked too long.

"So," he said, setting his glass down, "what are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s good to see you… better than good, considering… well, everything. What happened with Peter? Where have you been?” His questions would have kept coming if he hadn’t stopped himself. “But… I can tell that you didn’t walk back from the dead just to have a drink with me, did you?"

I sighed, the weight of the real reason settling back into my chest. "I need to find Charles."

Martin’s face changed, subtle but clear; his easygoing demeanor flickering with tension. He straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it aside. "Charles? What’s this about? He hasn’t… he hasn’t done anything, has he?" There was genuine concern in his voice, which I didn’t blame him for. Charles and Martin’s relationship was growing in a good way ever since they reconnected when the immortals came for me. He looked like he was worried about what I might do to him.

"I need to find him. I have places to go, and I need him to show me the way. I think he might be the only person within my reach who can help me.”

Martin frowned, leaning on the bar again, his fingers tapping restlessly against the surface. "I haven’t seen him in a while," he said slowly. "After we knew Peter was dead… Shelta assured us,” he explained, “I was under the impression that he departed back to the pits."

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I took a long drink, the burn of the whiskey doing little to calm my nerves. "No one’s seen him? No one at all?"

Martin shook his head, his frown deepening. "No. No one would. He doesn’t show anyone his true self, except for his family. When he works for the Elders, he plays a part in keeping up appearances. Charles always has his reasons, though. When he disappears, it’s usually to keep suspicions at bay and his family alive. But… why now, Sam? Why are you so desperate to find him?"

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the answer before I even spoke it. "Because… I need a way inside the pits…” I left my statement hanging between us. Maybe he would know something I didn’t… someone I didn’t that could help me.

Martin’s eyes darkened, and for the first time since I’d walked in, I saw real fear in them. "The pits," he whispered, almost to himself. "You mean that?" He had a dark look in his eyes.

"Yeah," I answered calmly. “I feel it… a need to get there. It feels it…” I said, referring to the monster inside; he understood.

Martin leaned back, running a hand through his dark hair. "Damn. You’re not asking for much, are you?" He sighed, shaking his head with his sarcasm. Martin looked over his shoulder as if expecting Charles to appear from the shadows. "Look, Sam, I’d help if I could. You know I would. But Charles… he’s a ghost when he wants to be. If he doesn’t want to be found, there’s not much anyone can do. If he’s still down there, he might be for a while. He told me once that he usually has much to do down below before he can return to his freedom. When they call for him to hunt someone, it’s usually a summons that lasts a while."

I gritted my teeth, feeling them burn as frustration welled up inside me, hot and raw. Something was shifting. My teeth elongated, scraping against the inside of my mouth, a familiar ache signaling the early stages of my transformation. I held onto my human form, keeping the same size and shape, but my face… it was contorting, twisting into something else. A reflection of the Primeval, that monstrous thing inside me, was leaking through. It wanted answers. It wanted to go beneath the caves. It wanted to kill.

My gaze fixed on the bar, my pulse pounding harder with each second. My voice slipped out, deeper, darker, warping into something far from human; layered with a growling undercurrent of annihilation. "I don’t have time for him to play hide and seek, Martin. If you know anything… anything that could help, I need it now."

Martin’s reaction was immediate, but not in the way I’d expected. He stared at me, his red eyes flickering with shock, and uncertainty. He wasn’t sure what I was about to do. My face, my voice, and the twisted thing creeping out of me had clearly rattled him. He looked me up and down like he was weighing his next move, his expression darkening as he tried to gauge what I was capable of. A slow, heavy sigh escaped him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, stalling for time.

"Step behind the bar," he said finally, motioning me closer, his voice edged with careful hesitation. We stepped around into the kitchen, out of sight from any onlooking customers. His words felt deliberately slow like he was measuring them out. "There’s a rumor... something I didn’t take seriously at first. But recently, a group of vampires has been stirring things up. They're reckless, making too much noise, bringing the wrong kind of attention. If Charles is still down in the pits, they might send him to clean up the situation. Silence them before they reveal too much."

My mind latched onto the words, a burning intensity flaring inside me. "Where?"

Martin hesitated again, his lips curling into a brief, strained smile before it vanished. "Big property, out near St. Charles. Alex wants to head out there on her own too. She wants to get ahead of it before it turns into something ugly. She hasn’t fed in a while… and she needs to hunt. But if Charles is involved..." He trailed off, clearly weighing just how much uglier it could get.

The information hit me like a pulse of electricity, triggering something deep, something primal. Inside, the Primeval… Myoordrakien awoke. Its ancient, destructive heartbeat synced with mine, tightening every muscle, and pressurizing my blood. Dark ideas coiled at the edges of my mind like poison, whispers from the monster inside me, urging me on.

If a scene was what would bring Charles to the surface… a scene it would be. The thought of the monster being unleashed again, of the obliteration we could bring... it was thrilled. And this time, I couldn’t deny it. I was too.

After everything I had learned from Carter, I just wanted something else to focus on. I was using this opportunity to hide from the situation, to ignore what it made me feel. I decided to dive headfirst into chaos. I’d deal with everything else later.

I nodded, forcing the tension to drain from my face, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "Thanks," I muttered, finishing my drink in a slow, controlled movement. I kept it casual, careful not to show the hunger that clawed just beneath the surface to anyone else. I kept my hood up, my face buried deep within. Martin didn’t need to know what I was thinking, or what I was planning. The less he knew, the better.

Martin hesitated, his eyes softening. "Sam… are you okay? I mean, really? Coming back from where you’ve been…” he looked sincerely concerned. “With this,” he motioned towards my face.

I cut him off with a wry smile. "Actually Martin… for the first time in a long time… in some way… I feel free." I stepped back, pulling my coat tighter around me.

It was true. Death had turned me loose. Autumn had cut ties. Part of me wanted to stop trying so hard to be human and just fall into the Primeval power that was inching out of the cage. To see what would happen when I stopped fighting it… and became… more.

"If you hear anything from Charles, let me know. I’ll owe you one." I wrote my new cell phone number down on a napkin and slid it across the bar to him.

“Have you spoken with Carter yet? Does he know you’re back… that you're alright?”

“Yes… I have. He knows I'm around,” I said, leaving it at that.

He nodded slowly, watching me as I turned to leave. Just before I fully turned away, his voice stopped me. He was talking quietly to himself near the bar, trying not to let anyone else hear his words.

"Sam."

I turned, meeting his gaze.

“Why do you want to go down there?” Martin was beyond curious about my intentions. Why was I so murderously intent on finding my way beneath the city?

I looked back at him with stone-cold, black eyes. “I want to kill…”

His eyes revealed a flicker of unease at my vague statement. “Kill who?”

“The whole fucking place,” I said with no mercy or remorse. I turned from him and walked out, getting curious glances from the older, quieter creatures that lingered in Martin’s establishment.

I melded into the shadows outside the snow-covered building, my breath fogging the freezing air. The city around me felt dead, muted under the weight of the snow, but I didn’t need the city. I needed what lay beneath it. The cold barely registered as I broke into a sprint, bounding from rooftops to tree cover, through alleyways, and sprinting down open expanses under the cover of night. My movements were fluid and soundless, save for the light crunch of ice and snow at each footfall. I was on the hunt.

I would find those reckless vampires Martin had spoken of, and I’d make enough of a mess to force Charles from the pits… or whoever they sent to clean up the blood. It didn’t matter. I was getting down there… one way or another.

But first, I needed more. More power, more control. The monster inside me stirred restlessly, just beneath the surface, gnawing at my edges like a hungry beast kept too long in its cage. I reached within myself, pushing deeper into that dark well where the Primeval, Myoordrakien resided. I could feel its hunger, its ancient thirst for destruction… to end things. But I needed more than raw power. I needed precision. Martin gave me a rough area, but I’d have to comb through it if I was to find these vampires. I didn’t have that kind of time. I need direction.

Abel had said I hadn’t even begun to touch the full scope of what the monster could do. He was right. Myoordrakien’s presence was a vast, untapped ocean inside me. I focused, letting my senses flare outward, trying to smell, feel, or see beyond what my human instincts could grasp. It was like trying to navigate in the dark, groping blindly for something… anything in the chaos and nothingness. My human senses weren’t worth a fuck, and my monstrous senses relied on the same function and structure of the same senses, only heightened to insane degrees.

As I struggled against the ideas in my head, searching for something, the voice spoke in my mind again. Not Death… Myoordrakien.

“LISTEN…”

I felt it… a flicker, a pulse deep in the cage. Something waiting, coiled tight, ready to spring.

And then it erupted. A pulse shot from my mind in all directions like an explosion, expanding outwards, rippling through the air around me, unseen to the real world. It didn’t just move outward into the city…it somehow felt. It pressed against the world, vibrating with monstrous energy, and as it spread further, a high-pitched frequency began ringing in my ears. It was like a sharp whistle, high and thin, but it wasn’t painful. It was a beacon. My mind vibrated in the direction I needed to go, gaining in intensity as I found the right bearing.

For a few seconds, the pulse faded, and the ringing with it. But I sent another out immediately as I felt this strange new sensation. There it was, stronger this time, feeling more natural with every pulse. I let the monster’s power shoot from my mind in waves. Each pulse sharpened the frequency, narrowing down my target as I moved and changed location. I started tearing through the city.

It was close now, maybe just a few streets away. Whoever they were, the ringing was drawing me closer, and with each pulse, I gained more precise course correction. The monster’s power was homing in like a predator on prey.

I sprinted faster, my eyes black and teeth jagged with the Primeval’s influence; feeling the rhythm of my heartbeat align with the monstrous force that still beat inside the fallen body of the Primeval… beyond in Death’s dimension. I knew who I was hunting. We knew who we were hunting.

Myoordrakien and I both knew our next step was to get to the pits. To do that, we needed Charles; to get Charles… we needed to slay this pack of vampires like fucking dogs in the street. The high-pitched frequency reverberated in my skull, locking onto the vampires like a bloodhound on a scent. They had no idea what was coming for them; neither did Charles… or the Elders… or the pits, and whatever else called that place home.