"Sometimes, the only way forward... is to go back to where it all broke."
The morning sun never rose in the Shadow Realm. Time bent strangely here, moving in pulses and echoes. What passed for morning came as a muted lavender light filtering through the perpetual storm clouds above.
Lin Ruoqing awoke wrapped in Murdoch's cloak, lying within the crumbled remains of what looked like an old chapel—its stained glass windows shattered, its stone pews scorched black. Even here, in a place forged from sorrow and exile, she sensed something sacred lingering.
"You're awake," Murdoch said gently.
He knelt a few feet away, crouched by a low fire that burned a steady blue.
"How long was I out?"
"A few hours. No more. Your body... it's changing. Absorbing the memories, realigning with your old self."
"I don't want to be her."
He looked over his shoulder, eyes glowing faintly. "I know."
"And yet, I remember things. Smells. Voices. I knew how to kill that hunter... I didn't even hesitate."
He walked over and crouched beside her. "Memory isn't destiny. You were that person. You are still this one. The one who chooses."
She looked up at him. "Will you stay if I turn into someone else?"
"I stayed through blood and time," he whispered. "I won't leave now."
In the veil between dimensions, a ripple passed.
And far away—or perhaps very close—a golden-haired man sat at a mirror, watching.
His name was Lysander Vale. Once a prince among vampires, now something... more. Something fractured.
"She remembers," he murmured.
Behind him, a woman with stitched lips bowed low. "Shall I activate the gate?"
"Not yet. The veil is still unstable. The priestess hasn't fully awakened."
"The wedding—"
"Will happen on both sides of time," he said with a smile. "The old one, and the new."
He stood, pulling on a white ceremonial coat embroidered with blood threads. "Prepare the mirror. She's almost ready to come home."
Back in the chapel ruins, Murdoch and Ruoqing examined a relic buried beneath the altar.
A circular disc, etched with a sigil that pulsed when her fingers touched it.
"The Heart Seal," Murdoch murmured. "It binds timelines. And memories."
"You knew it was here?"
"I saw it in the future. Or a future. One where I failed to protect you."
"How many versions of me have died?"
He turned sharply. "None. Not in the versions that matter. Not in this one."
She swallowed, eyes flicking to the seal. "What if opening it brings more of her into me?"
"Then we'll anchor you to now."
He took her hand.
And when the seal opened, so did the veil.
Reality fractured.
One moment they were standing in ruins. The next, Ruoqing was kneeling in a pristine cathedral, the same from her dreams. She wore a wedding dress. The golden-haired man approached, smiling. Candles floated in the air.
She screamed.
Murdoch pulled her back.
The world blinked.
They stood again in the ruined chapel, but the veil had thinned. The visions bled through.
Ruoqing clutched Murdoch's arm. "He was there. The man. The groom."
"Lysander."
"He knew me."
"He created her. The first bride."
"What does he want?"
Murdoch's voice turned to steel. "You. Entire. Not fractured. Not free. He needs your soul, past and present, to awaken the dark altar."
"What happens if he succeeds?"
Murdoch hesitated. Then: "The veil collapses. The Shadow Realm and the human world merge. Blood will become law."
Outside, the air shimmered. The Blood Hunters returned. But this time, they brought something else.
A girl.
No older than Ruoqing. Bound in silver thread. Her face... identical to Ruoqing's.
Murdoch froze. "Impossible."
"Is that... me?"
"That was you. From another failed loop. One they saved."
The hunters dropped the girl's limp form.
A message. A threat. A timeline desecrated.
Ruoqing clenched her fists. "No more running."
"Then what do we do?"
She stepped over the seal. "We find the altar first. Destroy it. Break the chain."
Murdoch nodded. "And if we fail?"
"Then we die. Together."
But in the veil, Lysander smiled.
"You always say that, my love," he whispered to the mirror. "And you always come back to me."
The mirror cracked.
The wedding began.