DRAGO

My friends, akin to brothers from another mother, and I followed our mate to the floating island. We admired our destined mate's clever tactic of shaking off those she saw as threats by using storm clouds as a decoy. Despite this, Aaron managed to track her down, leading us all to the floating island—a place I was familiar with and often visited. I was known to many as the vampire prince, but there was more to my identity. My mother was a banshee, making me half-vampire and half-fearsithe/banhee—a hybrid. This was something I had always been ashamed of until I realized that while I could not die as an immortal vampire, I could be killed with the right weapon. However, my hybrid status made me invulnerable, as there was no weapon forged by man or supernatural beings that could kill a hybrid, especially one as powerful as me, who was even considered a ruler by my mother's people.

My powers first manifested when I hit puberty. Not understanding what was happening to me, I inadvertently unleashed what I call the 'death wail' on a friend. Within a week, my friend's uncle passed away. After that, I started having visions of death and despair, which led to horrendous nightmares. One night, my mother entered my room and found me in the midst of one of these deathly visions, which kept me awake and transformed me into a psychotic, bloodthirsty being of terror. This is why even my own vampire subjects feared me. Initially, this bothered me, but I quickly learned that it was beneficial to see such fear in my subjects' eyes. That fear ensured their compliance and deterred them from crossing me.

When my mother discovered my visions, she revealed that as a banshee, she too had these premonitions of death. She explained that my ability to foresee death was emerging, and my duty was to emit a wail that would summon death to the doorstep of those who were ill or gravely injured. My role was to guide their spirits from their vessels to the afterlife, which could be either hell, ruled by Lucifer, or heaven, the realm of the seraphim angels. Once I had escorted them to their final resting place, my visions of death and nightmares would subside, not to return until the next individual was nearing their end. I also realized that I would be leading not just supernaturals but mortals as well to their ultimate destinations.

When I first encountered the spirit of a mortal child who had succumbed to a terrible illness, my heart shattered. I cursed the heavens and hells for taking such an innocent life. The child was endearing; she introduced herself as Avery, a six-year-old with the sweetest lisp. Her eyes widened with joy upon seeing me, which only deepened my sorrow. She called me her handsome guiding angel, and I couldn't resist embracing her. To my dismay, her spirit vanished with my hug, leaving me fearful of my actions. However, before guilt could stain my immortal soul, a seraphim angel appeared and assured me that I had saved the girl's life, as it was not her time to depart from Earth. When I inquired how, the angel explained that I had inadvertently shared a fragment of my immortal essence with her, prolonging her life. Although meddling with a spirit's destined path has consequences, I was forgiven due to my ignorance. Nevertheless, my actions would result in the child becoming a vampire at the age of eighteen, and on that day, we would have to summon her to Enchantrios.

The guilt of inadvertently turning a child into a vampire weighed heavily on me, but the knowledge that I had saved her life eased my conscience. However, when I shared the incident with my mother, her shock was palpable. As a banshee, she explained, her role was to herald death, not to prevent a soul from passing on. She speculated that, as a hybrid, I might possess a unique gift. She cautioned me, echoing the angels' warning, to be mindful and not interfere with the souls I was destined to guide across. I vowed not to repeat my error, and since then, I've discovered alternative methods to shepherd the spirits without physical contact—through conversation and humor. Yet, the cost of my mistake is something that will haunt me for centuries.

When I saw my fated mate enter the building, I informed my friends that only hybrids could enter, revealing my own hybrid status. My friends were supportive, assuring me that being a hybrid was cool and not as bad as it was made out to be. Encouraged by them, I entered the building and located the meeting room filled with hybrids from around the world, including superstars, singers, actors, and presidents, all of whom greeted me warmly. Today, however, my attention was solely on my fated mate. I scanned the room until I found her by the refreshment table, conversing with Annabelle, the hybrid offspring of a goddess and a phoenix shifter, the very reason this island remains afloat. Annabelle's kindness and hospitality were evident, and seeing my fated mate so at ease in her presence allowed me to step back, yet I remained vigilant, watching over her as her mate, a duty I took very seriously.

The meeting began, and I discovered my mate's name was Malaya. She was the hybrid daughter of Becca Icelough, now Mikowski, and Felix Mikowski. She had not manifested any magic yet, but she felt it slowly blooming within her, like a flower. Uniquely, she could smell the magic inside her—a strange ability since no supernatural being, hybrid or not, could detect magic by scent. Perhaps as a hybrid, her magic was manifesting differently, and her sign was this olfactory sensation. When Annabella inquired if she could sense others' magic, Malaya initially denied it, but with Annabella's guidance, she revealed her ability to detect magic. She described sensing death and destiny; death smelled overpoweringly strong, like an excess of cologne masking a drug habit, while destiny carried notes of vanilla, cinnamon, and charcoal. Impressed by her, Annabella explained that our group supported those struggling with newly manifesting magic and hybrids yet to discover their powers, often using various obstacles to evoke magic. After thanking the group, Malaya excused herself for school. As I prepared to leave, Annabella urged me to cherish Malaya, who bore the scent of self-loathing and despair but also purity and light. I pledged to do so and departed, noticing my brothers discreetly following her to ensure her safety. We trailed her to the academy, where she tended to the throrse before sending it off to rest. We watched from the dense forest as Malaya entered the academy building, surrounded by a joy-filled aura.