Chapter 44

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Hi,

I'm stunned and somehow this feels unreal, but, it is true: This is the last chapter of this book and the end of the "Shadows of the Night" series.It came a little unexpected and it is sudden, I know, but the story has taken me to this point and I know this is where I have to "say goodbye". I truly enjoyed writing this last chapter, though it wasn't easy to let go of my favorite characters. You'll find an "Author's note" at the end of this chapter, which I'll hope you'll take the time to read. :-) 

The song for the final chapter is "Marunae" by E.S. Posthumus, I hope you like it! :-) 

Lara

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Chapter 44

The nightly folds parted as I slipped through, racing right for the center of the square. I rushed into the slowly settling plumes of smoke, then smacked into an invisible wall. I stumbled back and stared.

No. Not invisible.

I opened myself to that newly gained sense. The power of the grave unfolded like a black beacon in a hazy gray mist. The power of the grave Vladislav emanated was rigged with fissures and dark power.

Was the power of the grave so potent that it formed an invisible, impenetrable barrier? Voices slipped into my head, telling me what they had been telling me for years.

You're too slow and weak to do anything right.

Not good enough as a witch. Not strong enough as a vampire.

I shook my head and lifted it, peering through the whirring dance of fissures. Alexander was about to move. He was going to drink from Vladislav's vein. Now was not the time to second-guess myself, dammit!

Nothing was impossible. I was strong enough for this. The voices disappeared – fast and sudden, like candlelight snuffed out by a strong gust of wind.

I pushed myself, letting go of whatever restrictions I had put myself under ever since I rose as a vampire. For the first time the nightly shadows seemed more like silky wings than pocket-holes for hidden danger and fear. The night tasted and felt like a place I could thrive in.

The power of the grave Vladislav emanated seemed to burst and surge, cutting into flesh as I trespassed and stepped into the fissure-ridden square. Fissures tore into my skin, and I could feel wetness on my arms and legs. Blood. I screamed and pushed forward, ignoring the searing pain.

My eyes were on Vladislav as I crashed through the crackling power of the grave and right into him. The hilt of the golden file was heavy in my hand, slippery and cold as I rammed it into his heart.

I heard the sick sound of flesh parting. Time seemed to switch gears and pull back until it came to a stuttering halt. Vladislav was unnaturally still, as if truly dead. For a long moment our eyes met – his an abyss that was a dark conundrum devouring anyone that dared to look too closely.

The scent of smoke and burnt skin tickled my nose. Visions of violence and bloodshed rose like a veil drawn over my vision. Vladislav was death walking, a cataclysm that had cost thousands of people – human, magical and vampire – their lives.

He'd said nothing, but I knew: Vladislav had let me stab him. I was that insignificant as a vampire and enemy.

"You little fool. You cannot kill me. The weapon is useless without a witch," he said, dead eyes threatening to shred whatever mental walls I'd built and make me his servant.

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