Ch 10 - Soren (Prof Walker)

Ancient Patterns

I sensed the disturbance in the ley lines before I opened my eyes. A subtle shift in the energy beneath Ardenmoor, like ripples spreading across still water after a stone has been cast. Not the usual fluctuations that occurred throughout the day, but something pointed. Deliberate. A familiar signature I hadn't felt in nearly two centuries.

Shadow essence.

I rose from my meditation, straightening from the cross-legged position I'd maintained since midnight. Four hours of stillness broken by the unmistakable presence of something that shouldn't exist on this campus. My quarters in the east tower of Ardenmoor remained dark, the blackout curtains shut against the approaching dawn—a necessary precaution for one of my kind. Though the stories about vampires combusting in sunlight were dramatic exaggerations, the sensitivity remained.

Five hundred and seventy-three years of existence had taught me to recognize the warning signs. The Shadow was growing stronger.

I moved to the antique desk that dominated one wall of my quarters, unlocking the bottom drawer with a key I kept on a chain around my neck. The leather-bound journal inside was weathered by centuries, its pages yellow and brittle with age. I handled it with practiced care, turning to entries dated 1647. Prague. The last time I'd encountered a manifestation this distinct.

My own handwriting stared back at me, the ink faded but still legible:

April 17, 1647 - The experiments have gone too far. Karlov's obsession with binding shadow essence has attracted something ancient that refuses to be contained. Three students dead already. The binding circle was found shattered this morning, the containment symbols corrupted into something else entirely. I fear we've woken something that should have remained dormant.

The memories surfaced unbidden. The screams echoing through the old university halls. The tendrils of darkness seeping under doorways and through keyholes. The coppery scent of blood mixing with the acrid stink of fear. I'd barely escaped with my existence, forced to drain two humans completely to heal from the Shadow's attack—a transgression that had haunted me for centuries.

I closed the journal, my decision made. The girl couldn't be allowed to destabilize further. Not here, not with so many innocent lives at stake.

I dressed methodically in the subdued attire I'd cultivated for my academic persona—charcoal slacks, crisp white shirt, navy blazer. The uniform of respectability, designed to put humans at ease despite their instinctive fear of my kind. Five centuries had taught me the importance of appearances. Humans might not consciously recognize a predator in their midst, but subconsciously, they always knew.

The eastern sky had just begun to lighten as I made my way through the empty corridors. The ley lines beneath the campus hummed with renewed intensity, responding to whatever had occurred during the night. I extended my senses, tracking the residual energy signature.

It led straight to the human dormitories.

Interesting. Not to the girl's room as I'd expected, but to another. The friend she'd arrived with. Jude. The ordinary human boy who somehow sustained her curse when others would have collapsed.

Perhaps not so ordinary after all.

I altered my course, heading toward Reed's office instead. The Solstice Order would be monitoring the situation closely, and I needed to gauge exactly how much they knew. My position at Ardenmoor was tenuous at best—a vampire permitted to teach only because of centuries-old agreements and my extensive knowledge of supernatural history. One wrong move, one indication that I prioritized vampire interests over the Order's, and I would be removed from campus immediately.

I couldn't risk that. Not when the Shadow was active again. Not when Cora Dixon carried the same energy signature I'd felt in Prague.

Reed was already in her office despite the early hour, bent over what appeared to be ancestral charts and magical lineage diagrams. She didn't seem surprised when I entered without knocking.

"You felt it too," she said, not bothering with greetings. After three decades of wary cooperation, we'd dispensed with such pleasantries.

"The ley line disturbance occurred at 3:17 AM," I replied, remaining near the doorway. "Shadow essence, concentrated and directional. Not a random fluctuation."

Reed nodded, her expression grim. "The ward matrices recorded it. The pattern matched archived samples from 1647, 1792, and 1904." She slid a paper across her desk—energy readings visualized as intricate, spiraling patterns. "You were present for at least one of these events, if I recall correctly."

"Prague, 1647." I didn't elaborate further. Reed knew the details already; the Order's records were nothing if not thorough. "What does the Council intend to do?"

"The factions are divided, as usual." Reed's mouth tightened with frustration. "The Traditionalists want containment protocols initiated immediately. The Scholars believe observation is still warranted. And the Pragmatists..." She trailed off, but I understood the implication.

The Pragmatists would want to harness the Shadow's energy. Study it. Use it. Fools.

"Containment would be premature," I said carefully. "The girl's pendant is failing, but she hasn't completely lost control. There's still time to implement more... humane solutions."

Reed's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your interest in Ms. Dixon is noted, Professor Walker. The Council wonders about your motivations."

Of course they did. Trust came rarely when dealing with vampires, especially ones as old as myself. The Order tolerated my presence because my knowledge was valuable, but they never forgot what I was. What I had done in darker centuries.

"My motivations are simple," I replied, maintaining the steady heartbeat that centuries of practice had perfected—a useful technique when dealing with supernatural beings who could detect lies through physiological changes. "The girl is caught in something that destroyed lives in Prague. I prefer not to witness a repeat of that particular failure."

"Altruism from a vampire? How novel." Reed's tone remained skeptical, but she didn't press further. "What do you propose?"

"The pendant requires stabilization. I've seen similar binding artifacts before, and there are techniques that could extend its functionality until a permanent solution is found." I paused, choosing my next words carefully. "The Order's containment methods are... excessive. And potentially counterproductive with a Shadow entity involved."

Reed leaned back in her chair, studying me with the calculating gaze that had made her formidable even among the Order's leadership. "You're suggesting we allow you to intervene directly."

"I'm suggesting we avoid repeating mistakes that have proven catastrophic in the past." I kept my tone neutral, though the memories of Prague still burned fresh after centuries. "Shadow entities feed on fear and isolation. Your containment protocols would provide exactly the environment it needs to grow stronger."

For a long moment, Reed said nothing, her fingers steepled beneath her chin as she considered. The ancient clock on her wall ticked loudly in the silence, marking seconds that meant little to someone who had lived for centuries but seemed suddenly weighty with importance.

"The Council meets tomorrow," she said finally. "I'll present your concerns, but make no promises. In the meantime, you're authorized to monitor the situation. Observe only, Professor Walker. Do not intervene without approval."

I inclined my head in acknowledgment, though we both knew it was a concession I might not honor if circumstances demanded action. Five hundred years of existence had taught me the value of patience, but also the cost of hesitation.

"One more thing," Reed added as I turned to leave. "The human boy—Jude Reyes. The ley line disturbance originated in his dormitory. The Council wants him monitored as well."

So they had tracked it to the same source I had. "Interesting choice of target for a Shadow entity. He seems unremarkable."

"Does he?" Reed's eyebrow arched slightly. "Our records suggest otherwise. The Dixon girl has been feeding from him for years, yet he shows minimal deterioration. Most humans would have perished months after such continuous drainage."

I kept my expression carefully neutral, though the information confirmed suspicions I'd been harboring since observing their interaction. "Perhaps he has some natural resistance."

"Perhaps." Reed's tone made it clear she believed it was more than that. "Or perhaps he has dormant abilities we haven't detected yet. Either way, the Shadow's interest in him concerns the Council."

As it should. Shadow entities rarely wasted energy on truly ordinary humans. If it had reached out to the boy, there was something significant about him—something worth exploiting.

"I'll include him in my observations," I agreed, already calculating how to adjust my surveillance to cover both targets without alerting the werewolf who had appointed himself Cora's unofficial protector. Knox Bates had the territorial instincts typical of his kind, and little patience for vampire interference.

The campus was stirring to life as I left the administration building, early risers navigating the fog-shrouded paths to breakfast or dawn classes. I kept to the shadows from habit, my enhanced senses cataloging every detail of my surroundings—the distinctive heartbeats of different species, the subtle magical signatures that distinguished witches from other supernatural beings, the faint traces of power that clung to certain students.

I paused near the fountain courtyard, my attention drawn to a familiar figure sitting alone on one of the stone benches. Cora Dixon, her dark hair lifting slightly in the morning breeze, her fingers unconsciously touching the pendant beneath her sweater. Even from this distance, I could see the exhaustion that shadowed her eyes, the tension that tightened her shoulders. The curse was taking its toll, draining her as surely as she drained others.

For a moment, I was transported back to Prague—to another young woman with similar shadows in her eyes, another vessel for something ancient and hungry. Eliska. Her name still echoed in my memory, though her face had faded with the centuries. I hadn't been able to save her from the Shadow's consumption.

Perhaps this time could be different.

I moved silently to intercept Cora's path as she stood to leave, positioning myself so that our meeting would appear coincidental to any watching eyes.

"Ms. Dixon," I greeted her, keeping my tone formal despite the urgency beneath my words. "A word, if you have a moment."

She startled slightly, her heart rate spiking before she controlled her reaction. Smart girl. Wary, as she should be. "Professor Walker. I wasn't expecting to see you this early."

"The pendant is deteriorating faster than you've admitted," I said without preamble. "The ley lines recorded a significant energy surge last night."

Her face paled, fingers automatically rising to her chest where the pendant lay hidden. "I'm handling it," she insisted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

"Are you?" I studied her carefully, noting the faint frost that had begun to crystallize on the stone bench where she'd been sitting. Control slipping, just as it had with Eliska. "The Shadow is making its move, Ms. Dixon. And not just through you."

Confusion flickered across her features, followed quickly by alarm. "What do you mean? Has someone been hurt?"

So she didn't know about the Shadow's contact with her friend. Interesting. "Not yet. But these entities don't remain passive for long. They seek vessels, connections, ways to manifest more fully in our world."

"I know that," she said, a flash of defiance breaking through her fear. "Why do you think I've been researching day and night? Trying to find a solution before—" She broke off, unwilling to voice the possibility that haunted her.

Before history repeated itself. Before someone else died because of her curse. Before she became what Eliska had become in those final, terrible days in Prague.

"The Order is watching you," I told her, glancing subtly toward the hidden ward matrices positioned throughout the courtyard. "Their patience has limits, Ms. Dixon. When they decide you're too dangerous to remain uncontained—"

"They can try," she interrupted, spine straightening with unexpected resolve.

Despite myself, I felt a flicker of admiration. Five centuries of observing humanity in all its frailty and courage, and still they could surprise me. This girl, barely into adulthood, facing an entity that had destroyed lives across centuries—and she stood her ground.

"Bravery won't be enough," I warned her. "The Shadow has encountered the Order before. It knows their methods, their weaknesses. And it's chosen you for a reason."

Something shifted in her expression—a realization, perhaps, or a connection she hadn't made before. "It was there that night," she whispered. "When Kayla died. It wanted her gone. Wanted me isolated."

"Shadow entities manipulate circumstances to their advantage," I confirmed. "Isolation makes their vessels more vulnerable, more dependent on the Shadow's influence." Just as it had done with Eliska, systematically eliminating everyone who might have helped her resist.

Cora's gaze sharpened with sudden suspicion. "How do you know so much about this? About me?"

A fair question. One I couldn't answer fully without revealing more of my past than was wise. "Let's just say I've encountered similar entities before. The outcome was... less than optimal."

"You mean people died." Her directness was refreshing after centuries of diplomatic evasions and political double-speak.

"Yes." No point denying what she had already deduced. "Many died. And I would prefer not to witness a repeat performance."

The ancient clock tower chimed the hour, breaking the moment of connection. Students began emerging from buildings around us, the campus awakening fully to another day of classes and activities, oblivious to the darkness gathering in their midst.

"I have to go," Cora said, gathering her bag. "I have class in ten minutes."

"Ms. Dixon." I stopped her as she turned to leave. "Be careful who you trust. The Shadow won't attack you directly—not yet. It will target those around you. Particularly those you care about."

Like the boy. Like Jude, who now carried the Shadow's distinctive energy signature after their nocturnal contact.

She nodded, understanding darkening her eyes. We both knew she had few people she genuinely cared about—which made those connections all the more vulnerable.

I watched her walk away, struck again by the parallels to Prague. Eliska had walked with the same determined stride, the same proud tilt of her chin despite the fear I knew consumed her. The Shadow had recognized her strength too, had been drawn to it, had sought to corrupt and consume it.

In the end, containment had failed. The Order's attempts to isolate Eliska had only accelerated the Shadow's influence. By the time I broke through their wards, it was too late. The entity had fully merged with her, turning her into something that was neither human nor truly Shadow—a hybrid creature of terrifying power and insatiable hunger.

I still carried the scars from that final confrontation, silver-white marks across my chest where the Shadow had tried to tear out what remained of my humanity. Five centuries of existence, and those wounds had never fully healed.

I would not fail again. Not with this girl. Not with Cora Dixon, who carried so much of Eliska in her determined eyes and defiant courage.

The Order would follow their protocols, as they always did. They would observe, deliberate, and eventually move to contain what they didn't understand. Their methods hadn't changed in centuries, despite the consistent failures those methods produced.

The Shadow knew their playbook. Had countered it successfully time and again.

Which meant I would need to operate outside official channels. Forge alliances that crossed traditional boundaries. Even work with the wolf if necessary, territorial instincts be damned.

Five hundred and seventy-three years had taught me the price of rigid thinking, of clinging to old prejudices when survival demanded adaptation.

The Shadow was moving its pieces into position, preparing for a game it had played many times before.

This time, I would change the rules.