Failure had become our bitter companion through the endless gray of winter. Each attempt, each strategy, crumbled under the unfathomable nature of this curse. Frustration bled into rage, a searing heat in the cold. It felt like we were clawing at the walls of some unseen structure, our efforts swallowed by the dark and unknown power that gripped Autumn. But we didn’t stop… couldn’t. Uncle Chris always said that was the one edge we had. Humans… weak and fragile in comparison… but relentless. When monsters and dark forces attacked, we would dig our heels in. When they abandoned hope with their humanity, we clung to it with bloodied hands. And we would not surrender while our children’s lives hung in the balance. We’d burn ourselves to ash first. So… we pressed on… watching the winter creep by slowly… painfully.
It curdled in my gut to watch Patrick live freely, unburdened, while Autumn suffered in a cage. She remained confined to the basement, a shadow of herself, isolated in that sublevel tomb beneath our feet. At first, she endured the bare minimum… metal bars, a bucket for her filth, and days lost in darkness. But we couldn’t leave her like that. Not Autumn. Not our daughter. So we adapted. Made her world livable, as livable as a cage could ever be. And Alex…Alex became her warden.
Alex, bound by her own curse, tied herself to Autumn’s plight with an intensity that even Martin couldn’t understand. She refused to stray far, hovering like a ghost tethered to the suffering in our house. Martin, who came and went like a shadow himself, marveled at Alex’s resolve and commitment. She could step into the sun as if she were human… an anomaly in every sense… but she barely left the safety of our home. Even Martin, with decades of lore in his veins, had never seen something like what she was now. But Alex’s abilities came at a cost, a legacy born of the ancient elder she and Sam had slain… and the repercussions that followed.
The nights stretched on in an endless march, filled with whispered strategy and quiet desperation outside the silver-lined cell where Autumn raged. Alex, once reluctant, began to share pieces of her truth. She spoke of her time with Sam, their final days together, and the bond they had forged. Each mention of his name darkened her eyes with a sorrow too deep to mask. It wasn’t just the power of the Primeval that connected them. It was something far more human, more intimate. A connection she had denied herself for decades, burying it under the weight of her existence. It seemed like she had found something in Sam that had been dead to her for so long. Now it was ripped away.
Alex was unlike any creature I had ever met, even Martin. There was a rawness to her, a self-loathing so profound it made me question everything I knew about her. She didn’t want this life. She despised the blood that kept her tethered to the world, despised every breath she took. But she wasn’t weak. She didn’t beg for death to take her. No, she challenged it. She would fight every step, forcing her would-be killer to earn their victory. And until that day came, she threw herself into the fire, searching for redemption in the only way she knew how… through sacrifice, through battle, through the fragile, tenuous hope that maybe, just maybe, she could save someone else even if she couldn’t save herself.
“Honestly,” Alex said, her voice low, almost a whisper, “I thought Sam would be the one to end it.” Her gaze drifted, unfocused as if she was watching some distant memory play out behind her eyes. “From the moment we met, I could feel something... other in him. It was always there, swimming just beneath the surface like it was waiting. Something more ancient, more powerful, than anything I’d ever come across.” She paused, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought my time had come when the elder swatted me aside like I was nothing. But then Sam acted, and somehow, I survived. Still walking this cursed earth.” Her words faded into a quiet bitterness, her voice trailing off as she sank deeper into thought.
Martin and I carried on talking, our conversation drifting to other matters, but my attention never fully left Alex. She sat there, her silence heavy, her hands clasped tightly together as if holding herself in place. It was clear she was fighting something internal, a battle that twisted behind her eyes but remained unspoken.
When our conversation slowed, Alex finally broke her silence. “Sam cares…” she corrected herself, her tone softening, “Sam cared a lot about Autumn.” Her eyes flicked up, searching mine for a moment before continuing. “In the short time I knew him, he was… twisted up about her. Not just because she didn’t seem to want him around anymore, but because he didn’t know what was right or wrong to feel. He was lost, torn between what he thought he should be… and what he actually was.”
She drew in a slow breath, her voice dropping even lower. “I’ve denied myself those kinds of feelings my entire existence. They’re messy and dangerous for something like me. But Sam... he let himself feel them, even as they started to pull him deeper… endangering you all. I saw it happening, and I didn’t agree with it. I wouldn’t have done what he did, wouldn’t have let myself slip like that.” Her eyes darkened, her expression tightening as if she was forcing herself to confront a painful truth. “But he was different. He made me see something I wasn’t prepared for. And if he were still here, I know he’d be standing where I am now, doing whatever it took to help Autumn. So, until it’s my time... I’ll do it for him. I owe him that much.”
There was more, so much more buried beneath her words. Alex’s pain was a quiet storm, the kind that raged internally but barely broke the surface. She was carrying a weight she felt she had no right to share, as if her pain, her truths, were forbidden. The way she guarded herself, and the careful choice of her words spoke of wounds that had never fully healed. Emotions she believed she wasn’t allowed to voice.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice steady but sincere. “Whether you’re doing this for Sam or us… it doesn’t matter. You’re here, and that’s what counts.”
Alex nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips before it vanished. Every time we tried to restart the ritual, she was there. She’d step into the silver cell without hesitation. She’d wrestle with Autumn, enduring her rage, her anger, just so we could sedate her long enough to try again. It had become a ritual of its own. Alex didn’t wait to be asked; she was already moving, already preparing every time. She’d grab the vials, fill the syringes, and ensure Autumn was sedated.
It wasn’t obligation driving her… it was something deeper. A promise, a debt, a purpose that anchored her when nothing else could. And every time she stepped into that cell, it wasn’t just Autumn’s demons she was facing. It was her own.
The house was alive with noise and purpose by mid-afternoon, the air buzzing with anticipation. Shelta and Raven had uncovered something new, a breakthrough they believed could finally crack the code binding Autumn to her frenzied state. The details were murky… something about a memory, a shared act between Patrick and Autumn that carried more weight than any of us had realized. They spoke of connections, of links through time and blood that only they could see. I didn’t need to understand it fully; at this point, blind trust in their methods was all I had left. They were certain tonight would be different. Something would change.
The energy in the house was infectious. Everyone moved with a renewed sense of purpose. After months of failed rituals, of dark winter nights filled with frustration and quiet despair, the early spring sunlight streaming through the windows seemed almost symbolic. Outside, the city was alive again, the once-dead frozen earth now bursting with green, the air carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh rain. It felt like a sign. Maybe this time, after everything, we’d finally see Autumn freed.
But hope was a fragile thing. I kept it close, wary of letting it bloom too fully. I’d been here too many times before, feeling the swell of optimism only to watch it crumble. Still, I couldn’t deny the undercurrent of belief that pulsed through me. Maybe this time… maybe we’d succeed.
As the sun dipped lower, we all took our places. The basement, dimly lit and heavy with the scent of salt and old iron, became our battlefield once again. The ritual markings on the floor had been touched up and repaired. My cousins, their mother, and Shelta formed the protective circle, their murmured chants beginning to weave through the still air.
Patrick stood near Autumn’s silver-barred cell, his presence tense but steady. Through the bars, Autumn’s eyes locked onto him, unblinking and feral. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, but her gaze was predatory, tracking his every twitch and breath like a tiger watching prey from the cover of dark trees. If Patrick shifted even slightly, her head followed, the hunger in her eyes sharp and furious. She hated that she couldn’t have him. Hated that she was caged, unable to act on the obsessive pull that had rooted itself deep in her twisted mind.
Next to him, Kayla stood firm, her hand gripping his tightly. The two of them had found their way to each other, an unspoken strength binding them now. Kayla, more forgiving than I could ever hope to be, had accepted Patrick’s remorse, his confusion. She’d loved him quietly for years, and now, finally, they’d carved out something real. It was one small light in this dark mess. I wanted to feel happy for them. I could see how much they cared for each other, how genuine Patrick’s regret was. But the sight of him free, standing there with a sliver of happiness while Autumn remained imprisoned, her fate twisted by his choices… it still boiled my blood. Part of me hated Patrick Wicklow.
Even knowing he was as much a victim of Peter Grimwood’s machinations as Autumn was… didn’t make it easier to swallow.
I stepped forward, gripping the cold bars of the cage as Alex approached, syringe in hand. Autumn’s eyes snapped to her, her lips pulling back in a snarl. She knew what was coming, and she hated it. Every time Alex entered that cell, Autumn fought like hell. She’d never won, of course. She couldn’t. Not against Alex, whose strength went far beyond her original vampiric nature now. The ancient energy coursing through her veins gave her an edge none of us fully understood. I think even Alex didn’t fully grasp it through our conversations in the basement. I don’t think she wanted to.
Autumn’s defiance was familiar, almost comforting in its own way. Beneath the predator’s gaze, beneath the fury and obsession, my daughter’s spirit was still there. The hunter who’d fought alongside me, the girl who never backed down from a challenge… that part of her was still fighting. And that was something. Something to hold on to. Even if it was against us.
Alex met my eyes briefly as she stepped into the cage, her face a mask of calm determination. She didn’t need to be asked anymore; this had become her role, her duty. She would inject our daughter, vial after vial until this worked. Autumn lunged the moment the bars opened, her body a blur of jagged fingernails and rage, but Alex caught her effortlessly, pinning her down as if it were nothing. The struggle was fierce, brutal, but Alex moved with precision, her strength unyielding. I was always worried that Autumn would kick loose the syringe, and knock it to the ground to start anew. But Alex always clutched it close into her body, protecting it in the scuffle. The needle found its mark, and Autumn’s fight began to wane, her body succumbing to the impending tranquilizer.
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"Let’s hope this is the last time, and none of this will matter anymore,” Alex murmured, her voice wavering with something more than her usual confidence. Her eyes were distant, as if she were speaking more to herself than to Autumn.
Just as Alex prepared to inject the tranquilizer, a tremor ran through the floor. It was faint at first, barely a shiver underfoot, but then it grew deep, a pulsing shake that resonated through the walls and up our bones. My heart lurched, disbelief fighting with instinct as the entire house trembled around us. An earthquake? Here, of all places? Yet the ground beneath us rumbled as if the earth itself, or something beneath were groaning awake.
We all froze, exchanging bewildered looks as the shaking ebbed, the walls still vibrating faintly with the aftershock. Silence returned, thick and hesitant, before we dared to speak. “Was that… supposed to happen?” Eloise asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Shelta and Raven exchanged glances, and after a tense pause, they shook their heads. They could feel no disturbance in the hidden realm… nothing that explained the tremor in their minds. Just a fluke, they decided. A coincidence.
But as I moved to close the cell door, something strange flickered in Alex’s eyes. Her irises pulsed with a deep, blood-red glow, like an ancient power was surfacing from the depths of her being. Alex stood there, frozen… the needle just millimeters away from Autumn’s neck. We all shifted, feeling the oppressive tension building around her, a palpable sense of otherness settling over her like a shroud.
Then, from the earth below, streaks of deep red energy… wisps of fire, or something that looked like it, twisting and flickering like spectral flames, began to rise. They shot up from the ground, weaving through the walls like smoke made of pure, pulsing power. Six trails of the strange, reddish energy surged upward and coiled around Alex, swirling around her body like the skeleton of a cocoon. The energy was mesmerizing, beautiful in a dark, consuming way, and I felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. But even as I raised my hand, a primal, wordless warning whispered at the back of my mind: if I did, it would tear me apart. Whatever this was, it was ravenous. Hungry.
A scream tore from Alex’s throat, raw and piercing, shattering the silence. The energy was too much… her body arched with the force of it, her skin reddening as dark, purplish veins spread across her flesh, the power surging through her veins like fire under her skin. She dropped to her knees in the open cell, and all she could do was scream, her breath hitching as the pain twisted her voice into a barely recognizable sound. Autumn, for all her primal fury, shrank back, her fear battling with the strange pull of the energy.
We were caught, unable to reach for Alex, unable to close the cell door or even take a step forward. The power radiating off her was too fierce, too dangerous. Not even Martin dared approach, his face stricken with something close to horror as we backed away, forced to bear witness. The air around us felt charged, pulsing with a gnawing hunger that nipped at our skin, as though some ancient presence was clawing its way into our world through Alex’s pain.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the red wisps shifted. They drew inward, sinking beneath Alex’s skin and vanishing from sight, like a tide retreating into the depths. The oppressive energy lifted, the hunger dissipating from the air. Alex lay on the floor, still and silent, her breaths ragged, her skin still flushed with the fading remnants of the strange, blood-red veins.
For a moment, no one moved, the intensity of what had just happened jarring everyone in the room from focus. Whatever this was, whatever had just been unleashed… it had altered something fundamental in her. And though the hunger had faded, the echo of its pull lingered in the room; the aftertaste of a dark, Primeval power that had only just begun to show its true face.
Before I could check if anyone was all right, a low, guttural snarl echoed from the cell—a sound so feral, so filled with unrelenting malice, that my blood froze. Before I could turn, Autumn exploded out of the cage like a beast unleashed, her movements primal, savage. But she wasn’t running for freedom. No, her every motion screamed intent, a predator locked on its prey.
Before I could react, she was on me, faster than a blink. Her elbow slammed into my jaw, the impact was a white-hot spike of pain that blurred my vision and sent me staggering into Eleanor. My balance faltered, my head spinning as I tried to make sense of the sudden assault. But Autumn didn’t stop. Her hand followed through with ruthless precision, snatching the silver blade from its sheath at my side. The speed of her assault left no time for thought, only the sheer, brutal reality of her skill and purpose.
Around us, chaos reigned. Martin and Jane were the most visibly affected by the red thrumming energy. Their reactions were unlike anything I’d ever seen in them before. They stood stiffly, their usual calm shattered, their eyes wide and darting around as if searching for the source of a threat too immense to comprehend. Their postures were tense, subtly defensive, like cornered animals in the presence of a predator far beyond their ability to confront. Jane's hands twitched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms, while Martin’s nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling with controlled, shallow breaths.
Everything seemed to flow almost in slow motion. Everyone's adrenaline surging… watching what was happening, but our bodies were too slow to react.
Autumn wasted no time. Blade in hand, she shoved past me and charged, her eyes locked on one person… Patrick. Her focus was terrifying, an unyielding tunnel vision that saw nothing and no one but him. Kayla stood in her path, unaware she’d be mere inches from death. She barely managed to raise her arms before Autumn descended on them both, a blur of deadly motion.
They saw her coming too late, their movements sluggish, as if caught in a nightmare where every second stretched into an eternity. There was no true escape. Autumn’s body tore through the air like a predator unleashed, her eyes alight with a savage hunger. She wasn’t running to escape; she was hunting.
Patrick, his instincts finally kicking in, grabbed Kayla with desperate strength, twisting her out of Autumn’s path. With a sharp cry, he hurled her aside just as Autumn crashed into him.
The knife gleamed wickedly in the dim light, its blade a wicked shard of pure malice. It plunged into Patrick’s chest with a wet, sickening thunk, sinking deep into flesh and bone. Blood sprayed outward in a crimson arc, painting Autumn’s face in violent streaks. Without hesitation, she ripped the blade free, her movements jerky and mechanical, and drove it down again. And again. Each stab was savage, a feral need to carve her way into his very soul.
Patrick’s screams filled the room, raw and guttural, but they didn’t last long. Autumn’s assault was relentless, the blade slicing through skin, muscle, and bone as though his body were nothing more than paper. She stabbed him nine times in rapid succession, the final blow driving deep into his face. The knife pierced his eye socket with a sickening crunch, the blade burying itself to the hilt. His head snapped back violently into the basement floor, his body jerking and twitching in response to the overwhelming trauma.
Kayla’s momentum carried her to the ground, where she sprawled awkwardly. Her hands clawed at the floor as she scrambled to turn back toward Patrick, her face pale and streaked with fresh tears. The moment her eyes locked on the gruesome scene, a wretched, primal scream tore from her throat. It was a sound of pure, unfiltered agony; a cry that seemed to shake the foundations of the room. She tried to rise, her hands slipping on the quickly spreading, blood-slick floor, but her legs refused to cooperate.
Roxy and Jane finally surged into action, their faces twisted in horror. They reached Autumn just as she raised the blade for another strike. With a ferocious yell, they grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her backward with all their strength. Autumn thrashed against their grip, her face a mask of unholy ecstasy, her mouth twisted into a cruel, bloodied grin. She had gotten what she wanted, and nothing else mattered.
Patrick’s body convulsed violently, blood bubbling from his mouth as he somehow still struggled for breath. But it was futile. His movements grew weaker, more sporadic until he finally went still. His lifeless eye stared upward, glassy and unseeing, a single trickle of blood running from the corner of his other ruined eye socket.
Autumn’s struggles persisted, her thrashing peaking with a violent and horrified moan of some kind of unseen pain. Then… she hung limply between Jane and Roxy. Her head rolled to the side, and the twisted smile slipped from her face as the light in her eyes extinguished. Autumn… was gone.
A sickly, greenish pulse of energy surged from both Patrick's and Autumn’s bodies at the same time, radiating outward in a wave that sent a cold shiver through everyone in the room. It wasn’t just power, it was the last vestige of something ancient, something malevolent. The energy faded quickly, leaving behind a heavy, oppressive silence.
I felt the bile surge, burning my throat as it threatened to spill over. My chest tightened like a vice, each breath more labored than the last. It felt like the air itself had thickened, pressing down on me with unbearable weight. My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees, the cold, blood-slick floor beneath me offering no support. My hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers digging into the slick surface as if trying to claw my way back from the edge of this unthinkable reality.
Her body hung there, lifeless and slack, her eyes… those eyes that once sparkled with life and mischief as a little girl… now dull, unseeing. My daughter. My Autumn. Gone. The word didn't even register fully, as if my mind refused to grasp the enormity of what it meant. It couldn’t be real. Not her. Not like this.
A strangled, broken sound tore from my throat, halfway between a sob and a scream. It wasn’t enough to release the pressure building inside me, the storm of grief and rage that clawed at my insides. My hands shot out, shaking as they hovered near her, unsure whether to touch her or recoil from the reality of her stillness. When I finally let them fall, they landed gently on her shoulders, her warmth already fading beneath my fingers. My grip tightened, desperate to somehow shake her back into consciousness, into life.
“Autumn,” I whispered, my voice cracking, barely audible. “Autumn, baby, please... please come back.”
But there was no answer, only the hollow echo of my plea in the silent room. Tears blurred my vision, hot and relentless, streaming down my face and mixing with the blood on the floor. I could taste salt and copper on my lips as the sobs wracked my body, each one ripping through me like a jagged blade.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” I shouted, my voice hoarse, raw from the force of my grief. My fists clenched, pounding the floor as I roared again, the sound of my anguish reverberating off the walls. “You were supposed to be safe! You were supposed to be alive!”
I took her weight from Jane, and collapsed on the floor with her, my forehead resting against her cold hair. My body shook violently as I wept, every sob dragging more air from my lungs until it felt like there was nothing left inside me but hollow pain. My arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as though I could shield her from the finality of death. That somehow my embrace could reverse the inevitable.
But no warmth returned to her skin. No rise and fall of her chest met my desperate hope. The world around me felt distant, muted, and surreal. All that remained was this unbearable silence and the weight of a future forever marred by her absence.
I stayed like that, holding her, as the reality continued to sink its teeth deeper into my soul. The world hadn’t just lost a daughter. I had lost my daughter. And I would never be whole again.
Their bodies slumped, lifeless and slack, like puppets whose strings had been cut. Whatever connection had bound Autumn and Patrick to Peter Grimwood was gone. The curse had been shattered. But so had we. Our families lay in ruins, broken by the violence and the blood that now soaked the floor. The curse was finally gone, but it had taken everything with it.