Chapter 4 - The House of Forgotten Names
Branches whipped against Alina’s bare arms and tangled in her hair as she plunged deeper into the overgrown logging trails. Her satin dress was torn at the hem, coated in black peat and dried pine needles, but she didn't feel the cold. An unnatural surge of adrenaline, accompanied by that strange, icy warmth in her veins, propelled her forward with a speed and stamina she had never possessed before.
Every hundred yards, she heard the heavy, rhythmic thuds of pursuit behind her—not the sound of human footsteps, but the bounding, heavy gait of something quadrupedal and massive. Evelyn Vance had not merely dispatched men; she had unleashed the hounds Julian had whispered about in nightmares.
The forest gave way abruptly to a rocky clearing dominated by the ruins of a collapsed stone church. The roof had caved in decades ago, but four massive obsidian pillars remained standing, covered in creeping ivy and ancient, chiseled script.
Alina stumbled into the center of the nave, her breath ragged. The pursuer broke through the brush thirty feet behind her. It was not a dog. It was a monstrous, canine-like construct of shadow and sinew, its eyes burning with the exact same crimson flame that Julian’s had possessed in the dining room. Its jaws dripped with black ichor, snapping the air with the force of steel traps.
It crouched, preparing to spring across the mossy flagstones.
Alina raised her hands instinctively, bracing for the impact. "No!"
The cerulean light beneath her skin didn't just glow—it erupted. A radiant circle of cobalt fire burst from her palms, forming a three-dimensional geometric shield in the air before her. The creature collided with the barrier at full speed. A sickening crack echoed through the clearing as the beast shrieked, its shadowy form disintegrating into plumes of greasy black smoke upon contact with the light.
The recoil threw Alina backward against the largest of the obsidian pillars. She slumped to the earth, gasping for air, her vision swimming with black spots. The strain of channeling whatever dormant power lay inside her threatened to tear her consciousness apart.
"Well, well," a voice drawled from the shadows of the collapsed altar. "Julian’s little city pet turns out to be a descendant of the Iron Covenant. What a delightfully catastrophic turn of events."
Alina struggled to her elbows, her vision clearing slowly. Standing on the broken altar was a woman dressed in an impeccably tailored grey trench coat, a cigarette balanced between gloved fingers. Her face bore a striking resemblance to Evelyn Vance, but her eyes were silver, devoid of the red corruption.
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"Who are you?" Alina demanded, trying to force herself to stand, though her legs felt like lead.
The woman took a long drag, the cherry glowing orange in the gloom. "I’m the sister Evelyn told Julian died twenty years ago. My name is Diane Vance. And you, my dear, have just declared war on the most dangerous bloodline in this hemisphere."
