"How long have you been sitting on this information?" Nathaniel asked, his voice louder than normal. "You've been leading us blind, Logan!"

The blonde-haired man nodded his head slowly. "It was not intentional in a way to hurt your coven. This was something that needed to be kept secret from everyone. But now that secret threatens both Avalon and Ranelle. And I'm going to need your help in keeping them safe."

He had told them the whole tale of what he had said to Ranelle the night before. He had explained how and why Dracula had decided to separate the two halves of the prophecy scroll. And while Logan hadn't heavily considered it would be a true vision of the Count's centuries before, he had let the pages lie dormant where they had been left from lifetimes before the present.

"I understand you don't believe in the old gods' religions. But to have the arrogance or the pretension that you ignore the reality of our world is unforgivable. I hope you realize the consequences of that secret." When the Blood Warrior didn't reply, the coven commander scoffed, sitting back down in his chair with another roll of his eyes as he looked at Vincent. "Have you verified this?"

Vincent shrugged a shoulder. "We can't. Our copy says nothing about what he claims. You were at the dig; you saw the document when I did. It was severely damaged."

Nathaniel growled softly to himself as he focused back on Logan. "You realize that accusation puts your wife right back into the crosshairs, along with Avalon, for everyone, the enemy, the Capitol, and the grand elders."

"I know," Logan said. "But you need to know in case our enemy has figured out some way to find the rest of the prophecy. I was present when the scroll was torn, but we don't know the full extent of their reach or their resources. And in case they do know, I'm going to need your help getting my family somewhere safe."

"If that's true," Kearran started from her chair in the conference room, "then we will have to notify our makers in the States... They will want to confirm the new child and the truth of the prophecy in its entirety."

"I won't be able to negotiate them to hear of this development unless there is evidence to back up our claims," Nathaniel responded. "Their oracles were pointed at the boy. Giving them just cause to call a tribunal is our only chance. It would help back any support we need to move them from coven to coven if the enemy continues to attack."

Logan sighed. He didn't want to involve the grand elders, nor the Shadow Stalker High Council. But the three Winslow siblings had whole households of soldiers at their call and influence within the power structure of the global coven and its military. And if he wanted to keep his family safe, he would have to work alongside them. "I can retrieve the other half that yours is missing," he said at last.

The four members of the council turned their attention back to him, surprise on each of their faces.

"You have it?" Kearran asked.

He shook his head. "No, but I know where it is. Dracula has it hidden in one of our properties. I was with him the night the parchment was ripped in two."

Marcius and Nathaniel both exchanged looks. "You can't leave the coven house," Nathaniel said. "You're going to have to tell one of us where to find it for you."

Logan's head shook again. "It's too complicated. I haven't been seen on the streets for nearly four-and-a-half years. I think I can slip in and out undetected."

"I don't like it," the woman in the room stated.

Nathaniel glanced at her. "If it's our only chance to see the real ending to the prophecy, we need to locate it. I can't back up my demands for the Capitol or our sires without it."

"If you just give me two nights, I can bring it back," Logan stated. "I don't want to leave my family, but if it's the only way to get them to safety with the backing of the whole coven and not just our handful of forces, I'll do it."

"Then you'll have to go with a guardian angel and a radio," Nathaniel said calmly. "I don't want to run the risk of something nefarious befalling you while you're not under our watchful eyes."

"I'll go," Kearran volunteered. "I want to see this for myself."

He shook his head. "I'd rather send one of the lads."

"They're not as seasoned yet. I'm your best Shadow," she countered. "Would you want to send a rookie to do an elder's job?"

Nathaniel Bartholomeu sighed and nodded, giving in. She was right, as usual.

Logan looked over to Kearran and nodded in agreement with her. "We'll leave in an hour."

Twenty-four hours later, the pair of Viking descendants had made their way to the outskirts of Edinburgh, Scotland. Logan led the way into the maze of buildings within one of the oldest portions of the city. He finally made it to the old stone building in question and waved Kearran behind him. He wound down the spiral staircase into the waiting cellar door. He listened to sounds inside, only hearing the scurrying of rats and mice, before he undid the trick padlock on the door. He stepped inside and motioned for Kearran to wait for him.

The Blood Warrior headed through the dark basement, remembering where each barrel and box sat in storage from memory. He found the steps and followed them up into the decaying first floor. He then toured through the floor layout, remembering what the home had looked like centuries before. It seemed to stretch out before him as if it were the years of yesterday, with the entire place exactly as he remembered it. He paused when he reached the room where his sire had once ripped out the heart of his daughter, a dhamphir named Wilhelmina. Logan could still picture the blood on the floor. The Count had then placed her heart within his London home as a way to warn his fledges and children that he was willing to kill any of them if they disobeyed his ruling.

The Dark Child Prophecy was not to leave their lips to find the ears of the Winslows, Shadow Stalkers, or the Moon Worshippers.

Logan continued moving through the old, decrepit building to the room he had been searching for. He pushed on the rotting wood bookcase and knocked in a rhythm to make it squeak on old hinges. He pushed the wooden object out of the way and stepped back into the hidden vault of Dracula-blood treasures from five hundred years of immortality and adventures.

"I told you! I told you not to get involved with that girl, that it would bring us nothing but trouble!" came the sound of his sire's booming voice from his memories he'd thought he'd long forgotten.

"I put her in this position. I have a duty to protect her wellbeing," his own response replayed through his mind. "I can't let her go..."

Logan found his way to the back of the archive of hoarded riches. It was greatly disorganized, which told him that none of Dracula's other fledges had been through to clean up after their sire's last visit decades before. The Count was practically an immortal god to the paranormal world, with a mind as scattered as someone who could connect with every living and dead being on the planet in one puff of opium. There were many nights where the grand elder spoke in riddles and rhymes, causing Logan to stand guard as his maker experienced fits of intense emotions.

He touched a sword that sat on a dust-covered bookshelf. His gloves wiped the cinders of dirt from the weapon, revealing a silver crosspiece and a dark, red ruby in its pommel. The leather scabbard was also grey with soot, but he remembered how it gleamed when the black material was shined and polished. It was a gift from Dracula the night his sire proclaimed him the Blood Warrior. He took it from its stand carefully, wiping it off before slinging it onto his shoulders. It wasn't something he could leave collecting dust and age any longer.

Logan found the back of the narrow room and began to thumb through the collections of tomes and folders of papers. He knew the prophecy was hidden there amongst the junk, carefully cataloged away where no one could use it against the powerful Count Dracula. He had watched his sire shove half of the scroll into its resting place as he threatened Logan to never speak to Ranelle ever again and to leave the United Kingdom for good.

"...You threaten everything we have built in this alliance! I will not let this dynasty fall because you have a silly, human desire for her. Find another girl, Logan, or I will be forced to command you to do so. Only I can proclaim when the pieces of the puzzle are brought together! I will not have you ruining this prophecy because of your infatuation!"

Now he wished he had defied his vampire father sooner in order to be with the one he loved. And while it had been wise to leave Ranelle in a shroud of mystery in the Twenties for her protection, Logan hoped that if Dracula ever discovered his fledge had broken orders, the world would instead come to rally behind his future child's fate.

He didn't want to leave his family's future at the mercy of his sire's manipulation any longer.

He flipped through two more tomes before he found the parchment in question. While the ink was greatly faded from black to light-grey and the parchment was worn, he could still read it with his vampire eyesight. He nodded in relief and carefully placed it into the tube Ranelle had given him. It would help preserve the paper until he could get it back to the Winslow fledges for reading and verification.

Once it was secure in the carrier, Logan slung it to join the sword onto his shoulder and headed back for the entrance to the old stronghold. The building had changed and become home to a variety of small rodents, birds, and plant-life. But the memories and ghosts had remained within its crumbling plaster walls. He headed down into the cellar again and then through the maze of old debris before joining Kearran.

He nodded to her. "I've got it. Let's go back."

Once the pair returned to the London coven house the following night, it was nearly three in the morning. Ranelle had come up from the Winslow floor to join the rest of her bloodline. She had left Avalon downstairs with Vincent's fledgling as a babysitter. She sat at her usual seat in the conference room, her hands resting on the small bump at her waist as she waited.

Nathaniel read over the parchment carefully, his immortal eyes scanning the words identifying the Red Rose carefully. It was hard to make out, but he could translate enough that the message was clear to back up Logan's claims. He then laid the original piece the coven had come in contact with from Egypt beside the new half. "It appears to line up properly," he said under his breath.

"It looks authentic. There's no reason to believe this is a forgery. And the Blood Warrior isn't lying," Kearran added. "The Count was cryptic at the least, but no one seems to know anything more than we do. Correct?"

"As far as we know," her blood-twin responded.

Ranelle sighed softly, looking down at her stomach.

Logan reached for his wife, resting his hand atop hers for a moment in encouragement.

"We need to inform the makers," Nathaniel said calmly. "We will have to put more measures of precaution into effect. I don't want to run the risk that we aren't the only ones with this information. Keep it close," he added as he passed the parchment back to Logan.

"I'll put in the call to Seren," Marcius said dutifully as he rose. He nodded to Nathaniel and his bloodline sister before leaving the room.

Nathaniel replaced his dark eyes on the pair. "I think it's time we discuss how we're going to tell them what has truly transpired here for the past four years."