Blood Match

Chapter 47: Encounter With The Wolf

Leo felt something wet.

He blinked and found himself staring into a pair of large, golden eyes—set in the face of the biggest black dog he’d ever seen.

No. Not a dog. A wolf.

The wolf stared at him with unnerving intensity. Leo froze, instinct and confusion wrestling in his chest.

A man’s voice called out—not urgent, just firm.

“Kibo, leave off. He’s fine. Come here.”

The wolf gave a low whine, then licked Leo’s face once more—slow and deliberate—before turning and trotting toward the voice.

Leo lay still for a moment longer. The air was warm and fragrant. Then, slowly, he sat up.

He was in a meadow. The grass shimmered a vivid green in the moonlight. Around him bloomed white campion, delicate and star-shaped, perfuming the air like memory.

His breath came fast, his heart pounding. He clutched his chest—searching for the wound, the dart, the pain—but there was nothing. Only the ghost of it.

Gabriel falling... Liam...

The rage flared, quick and wild—

“Be at peace, child of shadows.”

Leo looked toward the man who had spoken. He sat on a large rock, a beautiful woman beside him, her hand resting gently in his. There was a stillness between them, a quiet sense of belonging and love that radiated like warmth from a hearth.

Leo recognized it instantly. He had felt it once before—with Fernando and Genevieve—the moment he met them.

“Where am I?” Leo asked, his voice tight as he tried to throttle the rising panic and rage into submission. He needed to think clearly.

“It might be more appropriate to ask, ‘When are you?’” the man replied, smiling.

Leo looked around, letting himself truly take in his surroundings. The air was still. Above him, the moon hung suspended in a sea of stars—but there was no movement. No drifting clouds, no shifting wind. Even the subtle dance of the universe seemed frozen in place, waiting.

Then the woman spoke, as if catching the thread of Leo’s thoughts.

“You are between the moments—caught between tick and tock. Here, time has no meaning.”

“How did I get here?” Leo forced himself to think logically. He needed to understand—Liam was in danger, and if he was going to protect him, he needed answers.

“You were shot with a dart,” the woman replied. “An ancient spell was twisted to create a poison. Belladonna, mandrake, and henbane—three holy herbs once used to open the gates to the Divine. Twisted and charged to trap you in the in-between.”

Her voice was a soft contralto, but it carried weight—the weight of knowing. Leo realized he was hearing the words of a wise one, a witch who had mastered the arts of earth and fire.

Leo took a moment to absorb what had been said.

“Thank you, wise one, for helping me understand. May I know your name—and that of your companion?” he asked, turning to the man seated beside her.

There was something about him—something familiar but just out of reach. His violet eyes held amusement and joy, the eyes of someone who laughed often and had found peace. But beneath that serenity, Leo saw it: a trace of sadness, as if the road to peace had been long... and hard-won.

The man spoke first. “My name is Malachi. And this is Beatriz. We’ve been waiting for you... for a very long time.”

---

The ballroom pulsed with renewed music and cautious conversation, but Tristan’s breath caught in his chest. Something had shifted—no, snapped.

His connection to Leo, once a constant, low hum in the back of his mind, was suddenly gone. No warning. No flicker. Just... absence.

He staggered, clutching at his chest.

Aditya, who was standing near him, reached out too late. Tristan crumpled, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“Tristan!” Mercy was already moving, voice sharp, commanding attention as silence swept the ballroom.

He lay still for only moments—though it felt like an eternity—before his eyes fluttered open. He took a shuddering breath.

“He’s gone. I can’t feel him. Something’s happened to Leo.”

The room went still.

In a single breath, the calm snapped—replaced by a maelstrom of swirling rage.

The Elders surged toward Tristan’s side, Maria, Joseph, and Alexi not far behind.

Don Antonio, who had been standing off to one side, froze. His eyes flicked to Elena—then began scanning the room.

Where was Harrison?

And those troublesome Australians—Gideon and Marlowe?

Something had changed. Irrevocably.

A firestorm had begun, and Don Antonio realized, too late, that he was standing at its heart.

The air shifted. Rage, ancient and raw, rolled in waves off the gathered immortals. Even the sentries stiffened, alert and scanning the shadows.

Edward rushed to his son’s side and knelt.

“Tris, what do you feel? Look within—find the connection.”

His voice was calm, steady—spoken like one who had known Leo longer than any in the room. Blood brother. Companion. Friend.

He had raised his son and stepped aside when the time came for Tristan to take his place at Leo’s right hand. And now, he knew how to guide him through this moment.

Tristan looked up at his father, tears glimmering in his eyes.

“It’s gone, Papa. It’s not there anymore.”

Edward heard the grief in his son’s voice—saw the agony written across his face—but he refused to surrender to despair. There had to be a way.

He glanced at Alexi, who gave a sharp nod to one of the sentries. The vampire was at his side in a blink.

“Seal the exits. No one leaves. The Crown is in control from this point forward.”

The sentry saluted, hand to heart, and vanished into motion.

Edward turned back to his son.

“Tris, look deeper. This bond—it’s more than thought. It’s feeling. You know how he feels. Find him.”

Tristan shook his head. “Papa, I can’t. He’s—”

He froze mid-sentence. Then his eyes widened, realization blooming behind them.

He smiled.

“Liam. I still feel Liam. And Papa... he is pissed.”

Edward looked confused.

“You can feel Liam? When did that start happening?”

“Before the welcoming ceremony,” Tristan replied. “Leo and Liam started sharing thoughts—and the closer they became, the more sensitive I became to Liam. It’s like I’m bonded to them both.”

He began to stand, and Edward reached out to steady him.

“If I can find Liam... we’ll find Leo.”

Edward exhaled—the first real breath he’d taken since Tristan collapsed.

“Then there’s still time.”

At that moment, Maria—standing with the ancients—turned to watch Don Antonio and his two assistants approach.

“What has happened? Where is Mr. De La Cruz? I heard something about the exits being sealed,” Don Antonio said softly, carefully.

Maria answered first, her voice smooth silk over a blade of steel.

“Yes. Leonidas and Liam have been attacked—and right now, we are determining our course of action.”

“Attacked? By whom?” Don Antonio feigned confusion, but Maria didn’t buy it. He knew something.

“At the moment, we are still determining where the threat is coming from.” She stepped slightly forward, her eyes narrowing. “Where is Mr. Sinclair? I distinctly remember seeing him enter with Gideon and Marlowe earlier this evening. And now, all three of them seem to have disappeared.”

At that moment, Elenora spoke up, indignation in her voice.

“You can’t possibly think we had anything to do with this. The notion is insulting.”

Maria turned black eyes on her.

Elenora stepped back.

She had heard of Maria’s reputation in Mexico. She knew just how old Maria truly was.

The whispers of Santa Muerte.

And now—here she was, Holy Death in the flesh.

“I hope,” Maria said, a voice like smoke rising from a funeral pyre, “you speak the truth. Because you will not survive this night if you have lied.”

Elenora took another step back, shaken by what she saw in those bottomless black eyes.

Those witnessing the exchange—even the ancients—fell still. To see Santa Muerte in the flesh was an awesome thing. The quiet of the grave, the silence of the tomb, the rot of oblivion—these hung in the air around Maria like a veil of dread.

For a breathless moment, everything froze. Then Joseph stepped forward and laid a hand gently on her arm.

“Mama... come back to us.”

He pleaded softly, reverently. Holy Death turned her black eyes on him and regarded him.

In that moment, Joseph felt seen. Weighed. Measured. But he did not flinch.

He stood firm, love for his mother radiating from every fiber of him. He knew she would feel it—that love would call her home.

In the blink of an eye, Maria’s eyes returned to normal. She smiled at her son. And Joseph let out the breath he’d been holding.

In that moment, everything changed.

The air no longer crackled with energy. The presence of Death receded—not gone, but waiting quietly.

---

“Waiting for me?” Leo asked quietly.

Beatriz was the one to speak. “Do you know the story of the first Sanguinis Divina, and how he came to be?”

“I’m sorry—I don’t. My sire told me the story was lost to the dust of history. He said our path was solitary, that we’re allowed to sire only once. There are no clans for the Divina, just the blood match—to share the years, to carry the legacy.”

“What he told you—that much is true. I will tell you the rest. The Divina did not come about as a blessing of the goddesses, but as a curse... born in answer to rebellion.” Beatriz’s words hung in the stillness like judgment.

Leo stared at her, disbelief written across his face.

“A curse? I was always taught the Divina was the pinnacle of vampire evolution.”

Malachi reached out and took Beatriz’s hand. “Slowly, my love. Centuries of darkness stand between him and the light we’re about to reveal.”

Beatriz touched his cheek, love in her eyes. “It is time for the night to yield to the dawn, the shadow to the day, the careful lie to the truth.”

Beatriz turned back to Leo and continued to speak. “Yes, this is true. But in the time before time, the children of blood turned from their mother’s counsel. Hecate wept, and her tears fell like ice in the dark. Then a voice echoed across the void—gentle and radiant—the voice of the Dawn. Theia, Queen of Light, called out to her sorrowing sister. Together they vowed to weave a spell so powerful, it would become both curse and salvation.”

Malachi picked up the tale, his voice filled with sadness.

“The Weird Sisters wove a spell into the blood of the wise ones, the adopted children of Hecate, a spell that would bind wise one and vampire in a union that neither could break without sacrificing their own existence. And so chained, dark and light lived in fear of each other.”

Beatriz spoke, her voice weaving in where Malachi’s had gone silent.

“For to be bound one to the other was death—if one rejected the other, both would perish. So the children of night could no longer hunt the children of day, for fear that the accursed bond would take hold, triggering the curse and sealing their doom. And for a time, the children of day lived in peace, free from the slaughter and depravity of the first-born. Until a way was found to break the curse... and free the children of night from its sacred chains.”

Malachi took up the tale again.

“A child of day, created by Theia and adopted by Hecate—a nightsoul—had to carry the blood of night and day within his veins, and so become a living bridge between the two.”

“And so one was found. After three nights—nights of blood, of memory, and of the divine—he endured the trials and took the curse and the promise upon himself. From that moment, he bore it for all vampirekind. He became the first Sanguinis Divina. And another became his bondmate—his blood match. Vampirekind was free.”

Leo noticed then: Malachi’s eyes shone with tears. Beatriz raised a hand to gently wipe them away.

“It was necessary,” she said softly. “All part of the Weird Sisters’ plan, my love. You did what needed to be done.”

Leo looked up, breath caught in his chest. The realization bloomed within him.

Malachi was the first Sanguinis Divina.

Malachi was his progenitor.

Before he could stop himself, the word slipped free—spoken with compassion, wonder, and longing:

“Father.”

Malachi’s smile was sad, but filled with love.

“In a way... yes. I am your father.”

🌑 Closing Note

With Encounter with the Wolf, the first binge set comes to its close. You’ve walked with Leo into the between, seen the shadow of Malachi and Beatriz, and felt the weight of Tristan’s bond shatter and reform.

But the story is only gathering speed. The next drop will arrive Friday, September 19, when we return with the next binge sequence: Moments of Stillness, The Circle of Destiny, and Shadows of the Hunt. These chapters carry us further into revelation, vengeance, and the tightening circle of fate.

Between now and then, there will still be fresh content here—reflections, lore, and interview pieces to keep the shadows alive while you wait. The Long Night is far from over, and the Crown has only just begun to burn.