The air was still, oppressive even, as the moon hung low in the sky, casting faint silver beams across the path ahead. William and Alice walked side by side, though the distance between them had grown. Not physically, but in the weight of their thoughts—the looming sense of dread that had settled in their bones.
Alice's condition had worsened since their encounter with the dark sorceress. Her once ethereal silver eyes had begun to take on an unnatural glow, as if the magic was slowly consuming her from the inside out. William could see it in her face—the quiet struggle, the faint tremor of pain that passed through her when she thought he wasn't looking. The magic she had come into contact with was more insidious than anything he had ever encountered. Worse still, he realized, it was something he had *ignored* in his previous life. The black magic had always been there, hidden in the shadows, and though William had eradicated many of the sorcerers who practiced it, he had never truly understood what he was up against.
This dark magic wasn't just about power; it was about manipulation, corruption, and—most terrifyingly—*resurrection*. He had destroyed their outposts, their sanctuaries, certain that he had obliterated the source. But now, standing beside Alice, he realized the terrifying truth: every time he thought he had wiped them out, they had only been biding their time. These sorcerers were eternal in a way that his strength—whether as a vampire or a werewolf—could never be. They would always come back. Always.
The power of the vampire clans and the strength of the werewolves—those had been enough to overcome many enemies in the past, but now, faced with this kind of dark magic, they seemed insignificant. Alice, strong and resilient as she was, could not bear the weight of this curse for much longer. If he didn't act quickly, the magic would claim her entirely.
"William…" Alice's voice broke through his thoughts. She stopped walking, her gaze distant, though she was still aware enough to catch his eyes. "What are we going to do?"
He didn't answer immediately. He couldn't. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts and strategies, but the only answer he could find in the depth of his memories was one he hadn't wanted to face.
In his past life, William had known a man named Lazaro—an ancient scholar of magic, a man who had long devoted himself to unraveling the mysteries of the dark arts. Lazaro wasn't part of any faction, any clan or tribe. He had never sworn allegiance to anyone but his own pursuit of knowledge. A man without ties. That was why William had sought him out when the vampire clans had run into trouble with the black sorcerers. Lazaro was the only one who might understand how to combat this kind of magic, this *eternal* magic.
But asking for Lazaro's help was never an easy choice. Their relationship was pragmatic, nothing more. Lazaro had never been a friend—he had been a tool, a means to an end. Their dealings had been terse, business-like. And now, as the weight of Alice's curse pressed on his chest, William realized that he needed Lazaro again. Only this time, he wasn't sure if the man would even remember him.
William had kept tabs on Lazaro even after he retired from the business of magic and battle. He had known the man's last known location and had sent agents to monitor him, though Lazaro had always been elusive. The cryptic, quiet scholar had preferred to live away from the world, hidden in a small, ancient manor far from the vampire and werewolf territories.
Now, it was the only place William could turn.
The journey to Lazaro's estate was grueling. The path was fraught with dangers—wild animals, hidden traps, and the ever-present threat of the dark magic that had begun to spread in the air like an insidious fog. Every step William took, every shadow that flitted through the trees, reminded him that they were not alone. The dark sorcerers were always watching, always waiting. But he pushed forward, for Alice.
It took them three days to reach Lazaro's estate, though it felt like an eternity. The closer they came to the manor, the more oppressive the air grew, and William felt a familiar pang of unease. Lazaro's home was not of this world—it had always been something apart, a place removed from time itself. The towering structure emerged from the trees like a dark monument, its architecture ancient, its stones weathered and overgrown by vines. The air around it was heavy with magic, the kind of magic that didn't belong in the natural world.
William had never liked it here.
Alice, however, seemed more attuned to the atmosphere, her senses alert. She shivered slightly, though she didn't speak of it. William could tell that she, too, felt the unease settling into her bones.
"Stay close," he murmured, his voice low. "We don't know what we'll find."
Alice nodded, though her gaze remained sharp, her silver eyes scanning the manor's exterior for any sign of movement.
They approached the door together, and William knocked firmly three times, the sound echoing unnaturally in the silent night.
It was Lazaro who answered the door, though William had not expected him to be so… unchanged. The man before him looked as he always had—pale, gaunt, with eyes too dark for his years. His long hair was tied back, and his black robe flowed around him like the shadows themselves. He looked at William with a distant, unreadable expression, as if seeing him through a veil of memory.
"You… You've come back," Lazaro said, his voice even but heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "I never expected this."
"You knew I was coming?" William looked at him in disbelief.
Lazaro studied him for a long moment, his gaze flickering briefly to Alice. His eyes darkened, and his lips twisted into a faint, knowing smile. "I see. She's… infected, isn't she?"
"By the dark magic," William replied tersely. "We need your help, Lazaro. There is no one else. You're the only one who understands this."
Lazaro's expression softened for the briefest of moments, before returning to its usual cold composure. "You've never come to me for help unless it was urgent. Very well. Come in."
He stepped aside, allowing them both to enter.
The interior of Lazaro's estate was just as William had remembered it—dim, cold, and filled with the scent of old books and strange herbs. Shelves of ancient tomes lined the walls, and the floor was littered with arcane symbols and relics of a time long past. There was a strange, humming energy in the air, an oppressive force that made William's skin crawl. Lazaro led them deeper into the manor, through hallways that twisted and turned in unnatural ways, until they reached a circular chamber at the heart of the estate.
It was here, in this chamber of strange stone, that Lazaro stopped.
"Tell me," Lazaro said quietly, his voice almost reverent, "what exactly happened to her?"
William's eyes flickered to Alice, who had grown quieter and paler by the minute. She was still standing, but barely. He knew time was running out.
"A dark sorceress," William began. "She cast a spell. Alice came into contact with it, and now… it's poisoning her, consuming her from the inside out. We need you to remove it, Lazaro. You are the only one who can help her."
Lazaro's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to Alice, inspecting her with an almost clinical detachment. "This is no ordinary curse," he murmured, his fingers grazing the faint glow that now emanated from Alice's skin. "This magic is *old*, much older than anything you or I have dealt with. It is a force unto itself."
"Then help her!" William's voice was sharp, tinged with desperation. He hated this feeling—the feeling of needing someone else's help. He had spent so long relying on his own strength that this moment of vulnerability gnawed at him. But for Alice, he would swallow his pride.
Lazaro stepped back, his eyes thoughtful. "I will do what I can," he said at last, "but understand this: this is not something that can be easily erased. The magic you face is not only powerful—it is sentient, and it *wants* her."
William's heart clenched at the coldness in Lazaro's voice. But what other choice did they have?
"We'll take that chance," William said firmly, though his voice trembled with the weight of the decision. "Do what you must."