Chapter Text
They were almost into France.
Ultimately it shouldn't have surprised Serana that one of her father's lackeys would come after them. The blaze hadn't been enough to destroy them all; vampires were tenacious, clinging to their undeath. And with Harkon gone they had no reason to remain in the ash-ridden husk the castle became.
But vampires were, above all, vengeful creature. It was only a wonder they hadn't found her and Elayn sooner.
It seemed like such a nice day to begin with, as she, Salem, and her werewolf made their way down the road. They came upon a small town that was seeing good days in trade, and the children with their happy shrieks-- outside the window to the room where Serana tried to sleep the day away-- made that prosperity clear. It was spring, the weather was fine, Elayn was in a lively mood--
"Watch my pack."
"What are you doing?"
"Just close your eyes, count to ten."
At the end of the count, she was barely resisting the urge to peek through her fingers. When she opened her eyes...
"What are you doing?" she gasped through peals of laughter. There was Elayn, up a tree, hanging by her legs hooked over a branch, with a wide, silly grin on her face.
Elayn hadn't answered as she slid back down the trunk of what looked to be a beech tree with very few low-hanging branches. She didn't say anything, in fact, until she strode up to Serana to catch her in a blistering kiss.
"Anything to see that look on your face," she said when she pulled back, and sauntered along down the road, keeping a hold on Serana's hand as she went.
And now...
Serana paced the inn room that bore a hauntingly familiar scent, one that raised hairs on the back of her neck. She had just gone to hunt in the early night, just as the sun had set, leaving Elayn to her well-earned rest. Salem had accompanied her, as he found it easier to travel in the shadowy quiet of nighttime than he did in the day. She hadn't been long, fortune favoring her with a late-arriving traveler down the road. He would arrive with a foggy blank in his memory and two marks on his neck that would fade by dawn, and Serana wouldn't need to hunt again for a day and a half.
Damn her thirst. If she'd been here, Elayn would have had someone to fight at her side. And it was clear she had fought, by the lingering traces of blood in the air. But no one else in the inn had reported any disturbances, in fact the keeper was happily chatting with the same person she had been for an hour, had been since Serana left.
"Where could they have taken her?" she asked for the third time, chewing on her lip as she thought frantically.
Salem, curled in the shadows under the bed, regarded her coolly. Could you not track her? Your senses aren't as keen as hers, but they are still sharp.
“ I tried,” she snapped, shaking her head. “Whoever it was covered their scent outside the room, I can't even tell where they left from.”
Calm yourself. Do you think working yourself into a frenzy will help find her any faster?
Serana ceased her pacing to aim a furious flower at the shadows, only to be meant by unblinking violet. She spat, a noise that would frighten a true cat, but gained no response from her companion.
“Do you have any suggestions, then?” she asked, pulling together the threads of her control to temper her voice. The shadow spirit would be a formidable ally to offend.
As a matter of fact, Salem said, and as they did they gathered themself up and came out from under the bed in the shape of a midnight black cat. They stretched, taking their sweet time, and said as they sat with their tail curled around their paws, I very well may. What has Elayn told you about mating?
Shocked from her worry for her werewolf for a moment, Serana gasped, red-faced, at the spirit. “I hardly see how that is your business,” she said frostily when she recovered herself.
Not in the carnal sense . The spirit did not have facial features, but their voice managed to deliver enough contempt for her assumption to make her recoil. Sometimes the spirit reminded her of a very old, very frustrated teacher. Well then, that was what they were, wasn't it? Children of the moon have the ability to bond their souls to that of their loved ones.
“Wouldn't I have noticed something like that?”
Not necessarily. The spirit raised a paw and licked it before drawing it over their midnight face. Werewolves have little control over the magic of their nature, beyond what allows them change forms. I would not be surprised if Elayn formed such a bond with you in the time you have known each other.
Serana considered that, and came to sit on the edge of the bed next to where the spirit sat on the floor. “How would I use it to find her?”
The bond is different for each werewolf. Search within yourself. You practice magic with enough regularity that your mind should be adapted to such a concept, at least in abstract.
So, sitting on the bed, Serana closed her eyes and considered Elayn. Her strength, her bravery, her charm that shone through in her, at first rusty, flirtations. She considered how safe she felt in Elayn's arms, like the world was only made for the two of them to stand against it.
It was hazy at first, just the faintest impression like one would feel if they were standing eyes closed next to someone standing there. The impression of something in the darkness. She focused, and felt warmth like Elayn's heart, a beacon that grew clearer with every moment. In an instant, she knew where her heart was, because it was in Elayn's hands, as it had been since… Serana wasn't certain when.
But then… “Something isn't right,” she said, rising with a jolt. “It feels like she's right--”
That's when the screaming started.
Red. It swirled in front of her, obscuring her vision until she couldn't see anything but blood. There were whispers in her ears, horrid little things like bugs that crawled and burrowed and dug until her mind was inflamed beyond all reason. There was no thinking, no ration in her drive to tear into any living thing that crossed her path.
How had she gotten there? She possessed nowhere near the clarity to ponder such a question. All she knew was the blood. It distracted her from the alien pull and stretch in her joints screaming to her of an unfamiliar shape. She knew her teeth and her claws, meant for rending and tearing, but the rest of her was lost in the red.
When Serana tore out of the inn and out into the street lit by torches, the first thing she noticed was the people. There were far too many of them for the time of night, when they should have been lying in bed in deference of the darkness. Instead, there were men running to and fro, while women and children ran for the cover of the forest.
The cause of their flight, she soon heard shouted, was a great monster that had found itself in the middle of town and started wrecking havoc. She stopped in place and turned, still cognizant of the faint presence of her bond with Elayn, and it was telling her that her werewolf was dead ahead, in the direction of whatever made the crowd flee. Without thought, Serana ran on.
Had Elayn returned in time to witness the pandemonium and throw herself in its midst to lend a hand? It was well within her character. Serana remembered for a moment a village they had passed through where a fire had broken out in one of the houses, and spread. Elayn had been right there hauling buckets of water faster than any of the humans there could manage. If there had been people inside, Serana was sure she would have been the first to run in and perform a rescue. Surely she had done just the same now.
But… Serana still had a terrible feeling.
She rounded a street corner-- and came stumbling to a halt when she nearly collided with a broad man. His eyes were wide when she drew back, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Run!” he shouted hoarsely, dropping his grip before she could break it and following his own advice with swiftness.
Eyes tracking his exit, she missed the source of a sudden frenzy of activity and noise. It drew her attention regardless, to where a crowd of people surrounded the source of commotion. The crowd was like a swarm of bees, defending the hive, and it was only when their attacker threw three of them in Serana's direction did she get a good look.
At first, it felt like a nightmare, seeing the twisted wolfen creature that her father kept as guards and pets. It had to be a nightmare, because only in her darkest dreams had she imagined seeing that sandy pelt and those glowing silver eyes melded with hulking abomination.
But her senses would not let her believe it to be a horrible dream, because they were all reporting to her with perfect clarity that she was in very real danger. That danger escalated when the beast with her werewolf's eyes roared and chased after the villagers it had scattered, bringing her closer.
Serana broke. She ran.