My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

341  Gray Vale

The trees in Gray Vale were white from their roots to the tips of their leaves, but those that were fortunate enough to be planted close to the river had lush red leaves like the those in fall.

It was under this cover that Zagan approached the blood river and drank from it without being noticed. In the midst of drinking, he considered what a river full of Penelope Winter's blood would do to the creatures residing in Gray Vale. There was something intoxicating about just the scent of it, and he imagined it luring all of them in for a taste before each shriveled up into the dried corpse of themselves.

It was a satisfying thought. The vampires being toppled. Perhaps they were right to make him an outcast.

With dark black hair and eyes restored along with the sharp senses he was accustomed to, Zagan sliced through the fog toward the athenaeum where the ancient texts were housed. Hopefully there was an explanation from centuries past about why he had suddenly felt a beating heart in his chest before promptly losing all vitality.

The steepled building of the athenaeum was one amongst many in the vale—all gray, all pointed upward through the fog, all with their sharp points like teeth threatening an unseen sky. This place was positively ancient, and the weight of all of those years fell like a heavy cloak on Zagan's shoulders. He hated it here. It was lifeless, obviously, and colorless and joyless… not that he truly knew what joy was, but he knew it did not exist in Gray Vale. This place was like an elaborate crypt whose dead had risen, making the crypt their home.

Zagan was determined to get in and out of this place as quickly as possible.

The athenaeum was empty as far as he could tell, much to his relief. He knew this place well, having spent many years hidden within these walls exploring the worlds that would open for him within books. Science and literature provided an escape and a reason to dream of more, and he found that "more" amongst the humans, lycans, and alyko. His precious alyko…

He hurried to the section in question, picking books and quickly discarding them when he could find nothing of use.

"Zagan?" the voice sent a shiver down his back, and he froze.

Names had power in Gray Vale. Knowing someone's name and using it wielded a unique power over them, and it was because of this that Zagan responded with such instinctual rage when others said it outside of vampire territory. Names were a weakness—a vulnerability. And right now, Zagan was feeling that vulnerability slide down his spine like ice.

The one who had called him by name moved slowly for a vampire, descending the steps behind him with a measured grace that came with the confidence of station. But other than the use of his name, Zagan didn't detect any other threat. Still, he waited, frozen in place staring at the wall of books before him until the other one came to stand by his side.

"Relax, it is only I, Nelo," the male placed a hand on Zagan's shoulder, and with the offering of his own name, Zagan realized at once that he was not in danger.

Nelo was the athenaeum's caretaker. He had no interest in Gray Vale politics nor any stake in reporting that Zagan had returned. He cared about the ancient texts within his care, and that was about it. Zagan had spent much time with him during his time of intense study here, but it had been many years now.

"How are you old friend?" Nelo asked, shifting so that he could see Zagan more clearly.

"I am well… mostly. And you?"

"I am the same," Nelo offered him a gentle smile. The smile in and of itself was unusual amongst their kind. Nelo was unique, and Zagan imagined it had to do with how he spent his time. "What brings you here? You are not finding what you seek, I see," he dropped his eyes to the stack of books that Zagan had discarded on the floor.

"I will return them to their proper place," Zagan replied, realizing the work he was creating for the elder vampire. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"That is not a concern. I appreciate the work," Nelo chuckled. "As I would appreciate helping you with what you are looking for. It must be important if you have returned here to find it."

"Yes," Zagan let one side of his lips curve into a smirk. Nelo was aware that he should not be here. "I experienced something unusual. It is not something I recall reading or hearing about."

"Oh, interesting. Tell me of this unusual event," Nelo's eyes sparked with a deep curiosity.

Zagan's thoughts zipped around, searching for any reason why he should be wary of sharing the information with anyone, but he had already piqued Nelo's curiosity. It would be difficult to avoid sharing details. Plus, he didn't know enough about this event to even know if it would be sensitive information.

"I drank from someone," he started, being careful to avoid using the term alyko or, worse, fae. "And afterward, rather than having vitality restored, it was immediately depleted to near its lowest point."

"Immediately?" Nelo asked with his studious air, his eyes turning to scan the books on vampire vitality before them.

Zagan paused a beat too long, and Nelo returned his eyes to him. "Not immediately. What else happened?"

"I felt…" he began, and then a sudden instinctual warning prickled the hair on his neck. He should not mention a heart. This was why he was cast out, because he was a danger to the vampire race. Coming here was unwise.

"You felt what, son?" Nelo prompted.

"Never mind. I should be returning," he replied, bending to pick up the books that he had plucked before returning them to their resting place.

"Zagan, I cannot let you leave until you share this most intriguing mystery with me," Nelo chuckled. As innocent as it sounded, the use of his name sent that threatening shackle down his spine again.