Deathbed Prophecies

I remember when the world was young.

Before Babylon’s walls rose from the desert.  Before empires carved their names into stone.  I was a priestess then, chosen by the gods, bound to blood and prophecy.

And I remember him.

Theodōros.

A brilliant Mesopotamian general with a crooked smile, a sharp mind, and a talent for surviving wars he should have died in.  He was infuriating.  Dangerous.  Impossible to ignore.

He was my husband in soul, if not always in name.

And I am the reason he became a monster.

I remember the night I damned him to eternity.  The blood.  The ritual.  The terrible mistake that turned him into something that should not exist.

A vampire.

Since then, we have found each other again and again across the centuries.  Different names.  Different lives.  But the ending never changes.

I die.

Sometimes by his hand.  Sometimes because of the darkness that follows him.  But always the same inevitable fate.

This life should be no different.

Except now I carry a magic that should not belong to the living... blood magic, ancient and hungry.  And dying witches whisper the same prophecy with their final breaths.

A monster is searching for me.

Theodōros believes the prophecy means our end.  That this time the darkness hunting me will finally destroy us both.

But fate has taken my life enough times.

If something monstrous is coming for me… it may discover that I am no longer the helpless priestess it remembers.

And this time, the blood will not be mine alone.