Raphael didn’t take his eyes off her. The certainty he once had was gone—now there was only wariness… and fear.
— What are you? — he repeated.
Elissa wanted to answer, but her tongue felt heavy, frozen in place. She didn’t know. Her skin still burned from Raphael’s touch, and the mark on her wrist continued to glow with a faint silver light.
The pastor watched her intently.
— You know, — he said softly, almost reverently.
— No… — she whispered, shaking her head.
— You know.
Elissa clenched her fingers into a fist.
— Tell me! — the words burst from her.
The pastor closed his eyes as if weighing his response, then finally spoke:
— You are the one who will awaken the fallen.
Raphael went still.
— What?
The pastor turned his gaze to him.
— Vampires are not merely cursed creatures, Raphael. You are angels cast down from heaven. Your souls are bound, your memories erased. But she… — his eyes returned to Elissa, filled with something ancient, something reverent. — She can break the chains.
Elissa felt her breath catch.
— But why me?
The pastor stepped closer.
— Because you carry the blood of the Chosen.
Elissa’s head spun.
— The Chosen?
The pastor nodded.
— You are the descendant of the one whose blood was pure. The only one who could grant the fallen either salvation… or eternal damnation.
Her hands trembled.
— This… this is impossible…
Raphael said nothing.
But she could see it in his eyes—he believed.
Because he felt it.
That connection that bound them from the very first moment.
That hunger, which was something far greater than mere desire.
— What happens now? — his voice was hoarse.
The pastor smiled.
— Now… it’s up to her.
Elissa looked at Raphael.
And she understood—there was no choice left to make.