Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 357: What If I Never See Her Again?

"Ancestor?"

Riona muttered the name, uncertain. This was Florian’s subconscious—no one else should have access, not even the ancestor. Was she hallucinating?

"It’s me," the Fallen One said.

The confirmation only deepened her confusion.

"How—?" She glanced around, struggling to understand. "This is Florian’s subconscious. You shouldn’t be here."

From the darkness, the creature’s arm lunged toward her. She threw herself backward, crashing to the ground. Crawling away took immense effort—she had only one working arm and one leg. The separated arm and leg would eventually recover. She knew that. But the healing process would be long.

But she didn’t have time to wait. The pain was unbearable, tearing through her like fire. She groaned with every movement.

"I felt your power fading," the Fallen One said, voice cool and accusing. "Why haven’t you used your Blood Moon power? Only that can kill the demon. Your usual strength is useless."

The demon’s hand shot out, seizing Riona by the throat. Her body jerked—one leg kicking helplessly, her sole working arm clawing at the beast’s skin, as slimy as molten metal. It groaned, a sick, guttural sound, as if it fed on her suffering.

"What are you waiting for?" the Fallen One hissed in her ear. "Use it. Now!"

"I—heok! ...can’t...!" Riona gasped, choking on every word.

"Why?" the Fallen One growled, voice edged with frustration.

I don’t want to hurt Florian, Riona thought. Speaking was nearly impossible in her condition, but she knew the Ancestor would hear her through her thoughts.

The Fallen One paused, silent for a moment, as if weighing her fear.

"You won’t," he finally said. "Florian’s body isn’t like other mortals. Any ordinary vampire would be torn apart by the Blood Moon power, but not him. He was born for this. A vessel, shaped from the start to contain immense power. To house a demon."

"You... promise?"

Technically, he couldn’t promise anything. Even if everything he said made sense, there was no proof—only belief. It might be the truth. It might be a false belief. But right now, assurance was all Riona needed. She needed certainty, not doubts. She had been doubtful for too long.

The ancestor couldn’t risk another delay. Every moment wasted drained her further. If she got any weaker, even the Blood Moon power wouldn’t be enough. She’d fail, and the demon would triumph.

"Yes," the Fallen One said.

Riona closed her eyes. Relief washed over her, but it wasn’t over. The real fight was only beginning. She gritted her teeth and seized the demon’s hand. It rippled like liquid, slipping through her grip to avoid being torn away.

She had never summoned the Blood Moon power on purpose before. It had always come in moments of chaos, by accident. But now—now she reached for it, called to it. Begged.

Come on... I need you. I’m the chosen one, aren’t I? Then let me prove it to this miserable excuse for a demon—let me show it who it’s dealing with!

She clenched her jaw and focused on the warmth gathering at her throat. Then, something else stirred—something foreign and violent. It coursed through her blood like liquid fire, tiny needles prickling every nerve. She knew, instinctively, what it was.

The Blood Moon power.

"AAARRRRGGHHHHHH!" Riona screamed as her neck flared with unbearable heat. It was as if the sun itself had ignited beneath her skin, searing from the inside out. A blaze of orange-red light burst forth, blinding the demon and scorching the air.

Even the creature from Hell recoiled. Its grip slackened.

Riona dropped to the ground, coughing, but only for a moment. She was already rising. Stronger. Ready. And this time, she wasn’t holding back.

That voice... the one pretending to be Florian, calling out to me— it’s not really him, is it? It’s the demon. Just another trick. Right?

The Fallen One didn’t answer.

As an ancestor—an ancient spirit that had forced himself into Florian’s body to help destroy the demon—he could see everything within the boy’s mind. He saw the demon. He saw Riona. And he saw... Florian.

But this wasn’t the moment for the truth.

Because the truth would stop her. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

***

Florian opened his eyes. He blinked once. Twice. But the darkness didn’t go away.

Frowning, he rubbed at his eyes, maybe they were still shut, and he just didn’t realize. He pressed harder, then winced.

"Ow."

So it wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. Dreams didn’t hurt.

This place felt familiar. An endless void, thick with shadow. He’d been here before, in dreams. But this wasn’t a dream.

Where am I?

He reached out, crawling forward on his hands and knees, feeling blindly through the black. At first, there was nothing. Just air. Cold and empty.

Then, his fingers brushed something. Metal. Cold and unmoving.

His vision began to adjust. Shapes slowly emerged from the dark. Tall, narrow bars. He followed them with his gaze, and as his eyes sharpened, understanding struck him.

"I’m in a... cage?" he whispered.

Trapped in the cage, Florian had all the time in the world—or so it felt. In this endless darkness, time had no meaning. Seconds, minutes, hours... they all blended into the same heavy silence.

With nothing else to do, he thought. Over and over. Picking apart his situation, trying to make sense of it.

Eventually, he came to a conclusion: he was trapped inside his own mind.

The last thing he remembered was the fight with Ol’gaz. The demon had devoured him. By all logic, he should’ve died—vanished from existence like any vampire consumed by a creature of hell.

But Florian was different.

He and Ol’gaz were bound by something more than chance. Fate. The demon had been born into him, and Florian was the key that had unlocked its prison. One could not exist without the other. If the forbidden ritual hadn’t summoned the demon... Florian would never have been born.

Now, he sat in the cage, elbow resting on his knee, lost in thought.

"Maybe I was never meant to survive without him," he murmured to the dark.

The words echoed, unanswered.

It was lonely, trying to untangle this twisted truth on his own. But he knew the fight was his. Just as his sister was battling in the real world, he had his own war to win.

If there was any solace in the silence and emptiness, it came in fleeting glimpses of his sister.

Images projected themselves into the darkness—vague, flickering, like half-formed memories on cracked glass. But he knew it was her. He felt it. These must have been scraps of Ol’gaz’s knowledge—fragments Florian longed to understand, now bleeding into his mind.

Riona, climbing the mountains. Riona, turning back, entering Asvaldur through the city. Riona, fighting the possessed vampires.

He saw it all.

And every time, he called out to her. He pressed his face against the cold bars of the cage, screaming her name into the void, reaching out as if she could hear him—as if he could pull her through the vision and into his arms.

She could hear him. But he didn’t know that.

Tears ran down his face before the previous ones had dried. Again and again. The heartbreak was relentless. Seeing her so close, yet so impossibly far, carved him open in ways no demon ever could.

What if he never got to see her again? What if he died here, alone in the dark, without ever holding her one last time?

The last words he’d spoken to her... they were too cruel. Too final. He wanted to make it right. To apologize. To be her brother again.

But more than anything, he just missed her.