Ali Gamal's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Ali Gamal set his prototype on the stone bench and prayed it would last past noon. He was Dracula's finest inventor, the vampire who built every weapon Walachia owned. But no blade solved this problem. For centuries his kind had burned in daylight. Ali meant to end that. He wanted every vampire to walk in the sun beside the Mother, and he had spent months building the device that would do it. A single moon-charged stone sat in its center, wired to a mesh he could wear against his chest. He carried it to the courtyard where a shaft of real sunlight fell through the open roof. He pulled his orange robe aside and pressed the mesh to his skin. Then he stepped into the light. For three heartbeats, nothing burned. He laughed. Then the stone flared, dimmed, and died. Smoke curled from his shoulder. Ali lurched back into shadow, hissing, his almond skin blistered where the light had touched. The stone had emptied in seconds. It always did. He knew the flaw now. One stone held too little power. Sustained sun drained it faster than any witch could refill it. He needed a reservoir charged for years, not weeks. He had no such thing. His shoulder throbbed as he sank onto the bench. A shadow that was not a shadow crossed the floor. The Mother entered, her veil trailing behind her past the doorway and out of sight. She was Dracula's chief wife, the witch who hid all of Walachia from human eyes, and Ali's only true partner in this work. She looked at his burned shoulder and said nothing about it. "You proved the stone works," she said. "You proved it does not last." "I need more storage," Ali said. "Years of moonlight in one object. I cannot make that in a season." The Mother was quiet. Then she lifted one hand to her throat, where a chain had hung hidden beneath her collar. She drew it out. A heavy gold pendant swung from it, shaped like a coiled dragon. Ali knew it. Dracula had worn it for five hundred years. "He charged this every night for centuries," she said. "It is the deepest reserve I know of." Ali reached for it, then stopped. "He gave that to your daughter." "He gave her one. This is its twin." She pressed the cold gold into his palm. "Build your device around it. Do not tell my husband where the power comes from." Ali closed his fingers over the dragon. Its weight promised the years he lacked. For the first time, his hands did not shake. He looked up to thank her, but the Mother had already turned to go. "One thing," she said, not raising her voice. "When it drains, it does not refill. Spend it once, and Dracula will feel it gone."