And we weren't. Mark was whole and unharmed—something that could not be said for the most striking figure among the shadows in long cloaks. The acolytes stood frozen, scarcely breathing, staring at the cracked mask of their leader, as I guessed—the only one who truly stood apart. A deer's skull concealed the face of a woman dressed in antique finery. I had seen similar garments before: sketches in the memoirs of vampires who had lived two centuries ago.
The mask had split cleanly down the middle, and through the gap I saw blood running down the woman's face.
The collective confusion worked in our favor. I lunged forward, skirting the shadows along the right edge of the hall, desperate to reach Mark as quickly as possible. I nearly succeeded when a guttural growl rose somewhere to my side.
One of the hooded figures tried to block my path, but what were a human's feeble attempts against a vampire who had recently tasted blood? I shoved the figure aside without thinking about the force I put into it. Like a pitiful marionette, the shadow folded in half and went flying straight into one of the windows. Glass shattered and rained across the floor.
I reached Mark and began tearing at the ropes with both hands. I had neither the patience nor the desire to fumble with knots.
"Lisa, go!" Mark said urgently, his voice thick with worry. He stared at me in horror, tracking my every movement—but it wasn't my strength that frightened him.
"Go, before they grab you too. Get help," he went on frantically, and my heart eased despite everything. As always, Mark was worrying about me and my life, even though he was the one truly in danger.
"I am the help," I said, suppressing a smile with effort.
Around us, everything burst into motion. Ildar reached Yesenia and tried to brute-force the strange metal restraints on her wrists, but they refused to give.
What unsettled me was that the cloaked figures had stepped back instead of rushing to stop us. More than that—they cleared space for us, forming a circle along the walls, as though deliberately keeping their distance. In the chaos, the shadow wearing the bone mask disappeared, and my instincts told me her absence was only temporary. The scent of fresh blood still hung heavy in the air.
Mark managed to sit up. His fingers dug into the edge of the table with such force that his knuckles stood out white against his skin. I placed a hand on his back and began stroking it, hoping to still his shaking, but it didn't help. Mark stared at the floor, avoiding my gaze.
"What the hell is happening?" His voice cracked.
"If I knew, Mark…" I scanned the shadows, unable to understand their goal. Why abduct Mark and Yesenia only to stand back and watch what we would do next? What were they waiting for?
The answer came immediately. The moment Ildar freed Yesenia, every shadow brought their hands together before them. Their fingers began weaving strange shapes, as though braiding an ornate tapestry from the very fabric of reality. A gentle female voice rose in a haunting chant. I couldn't make out the words—they sounded both unfamiliar and eerily known, like hearing a language whose cadence you recognized but whose meaning you'd forgotten.
Another voice joined in, deeper this time. Then a high male voice followed. The song spread through the room in perfect harmony, saturating the air with energy.
I had felt space itself shift under the power of a voice like this before, and the realization made me step in front of Mark instinctively.
A ritual.
They had been waiting until all four of us were here together.