Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)

A(drian)POV

Gas! Gas! Quick boys… My head hurt. A lot. A throbbing pressure emanated from both in and out of my skull such that both movement and thought were painful in equal measure. An ecstasy of fumbling… I did try to move, if for nothing else to distract me from the vice-like pain in my head. However, I found myself immediately halted by a jolt not in my head, but in my arms. What the-? My vision was not much more than a hazy swirl, but the feeling of tightness that weaved between my two wrists, binding them together was enough to give me a solid indication:

I was tied up.

The thought induced adrenaline enough to clear my sight and confirm my slight befuddlement, the rope turned out to be one of those weird drape things that so often hung beside curtains: the silk material snaked between my wrists and coiled round the firm, wooden post of a bed.

My bed.

I recognized it immediately, rather despite the persisting internal thumping, but beyond that there was nothing. I found myself barely able to recall anything beyond my immediate surroundings, and even that was a struggle. It actually took me a whole minute to notice the piece of cloth that gagged my mouth. My eyes closing again, I grimaced and leaned back, only to fall against the wall with a thud. I groaned and tried to reopen my eyes again, blinking several times to get the focus.

The room was dark, but that odd, almost surreal kind of dark that only occurred in the twilight hours. The hefty purple drapes were pushed to the side as the delicate white voile shifted in the breeze of the open window. I shivered, suddenly realising I was cold. Looking down to see that I only had on a pair of jeans, it was clear that the breeze was only part of the problem. I felt an uncomfortable warmth that expanded within me as the goosebumps did across my exposed skin.

I was afraid, but more than that: I was ashamed.

I felt exposed and vulnerable. Something within me didn't quite sit right. And what perplexed me more was the knowledge that it had very little to do with my being tied up. Something else. Something worse. Something… Something…

What the fuck was it?

I grunted in frustration, and then again in pain when I tried to sit more upright and my head hit against the wall once again. The thumping got louder. Something warm trickled down my back. My eyes widened in horror. I tried to move my head to see when a figure flashed in my periphery. I froze. My breath shallowed, for the fear that even the slightest breeze could alert the phantom in my chamber. Through the eerie darkness, I watched as the figure swept through the morning's haze toward the door. By the speed it was going, something had clearly alarmed it. I narrowed my eyes as it hesitated by the door before slowly prying it open. A dim, orange hue from the corridor seeped through the hinges and onto the phantom's face to reveal no phantom at all, but a very, very familiar face.

And just like that, it all came back…

"Good morning, Mr. Ivashkov," she said, propping her chin up with her arm, causing her spine to curve and the covers to fall further down her body.

I grinned. "Good morning, Miss Lazar."

The deviousness never left her eyes as she brought her lips to mine. I responded casually, running my tongue over her bottom lip. "Mmmmm…" she hummed. I smiled and pulled back. "Tease." She smirked.

I chuckled. "Everything in moderation."

She rolled her eyes and then herself, falling onto her back and scoffing at the ceiling. "Why limit yourself?"

I glanced at her amused. "Ever heard of too much of a good thing?"

Her eyes snapped to mine; she pouted as though caught between seduction and contemplation, before propping herself up on her elbow. "Some things are worth the indulgence." Her brows furrowed a little. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like?"

"To sleep with myself?" I joked.

She smiled, but there was a seriousness that stood firm in the murky depths of her grey-blue gaze. "To be magnificent."

I cocked a brow. "Am I not?"

She was unmoved. "You are caged. And, the worst thing about it is that it is a cage of your own making." I frowned. Her eyes fluttered down to my hand that rested on the sheets between us. She ran the fingers of her free hand over my palm, before picking it up and entwining it with her own. "You could be exceptional." Her eyes flicked back to me. "If you'd only let go." She pulled back and my hand dropped with a thud.

My frown deepened, my confusion overwhelming my kneejerk reaction to jest. "If I'd let go of what?"

That deviousness returned and her smile turned sardonic. "Everything."

I eyed her dubiously. "I think you've had too much to drink."

She shook her head. "I haven't had anything."

I raised my eyebrows. "No?"

"You doubt me?"

"I should know."

She inclined her head, gazing at me as one would a dog. "You fear me."

I scoffed. "I fear you?"

"You fear me." She affirmed. "Or at least the idea of me. You say you are free, believe it even, but the truth is you living a lie."

I nearly laughed outright. "Really?"

Evidently none the wiser to how ridiculous I was finding this exchanged, Avery continued. "It's why you run to the booze, why you drown your talent in a well of mediocracy instead of embracing it for all its worth." She ran the fingers of her free hand through my hair, her eyes wide with awe. "You can make dreams a reality…" She leaned closer, "…and I could make you so much more." I drew back a little, but before I could form a more substantial objection, she pushed herself up and straddled my hips and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Because, Adrian Ivashkov, we are the same." She coiled herself back to a perfectly upright posture. "We were born to be magnificent."

I felt something shift in my periphery. On instinct, my gaze shifted pane. The dimming flare of the almost fully set sun dulled further into the background as the glowing haze of Avery's aura dominated my vision.

Only this time, I saw something very different.

This time, I saw the gold.

This time, I saw that Avery Lazar was a spirit user.

My heart stopped. My blood ran cold. My eyes widened in horror.

"You're…" I couldn't even bring myself to say it. We are the same. Her words echoed in my head as though they were my own. But I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. How I could have seen her almost every day for nigh on three months and not even suspected. How I dismissed her so quickly as nothing more than a pampered product of court whimsy. How I so willingly believed her ignorance.

It was at that moment that I realised not only the extent to which I had underestimated her but just how masterfully Avery had played me: she hadn't just compelled me, she had taken my pride, my ego, my arrogance and flattered me into putty. She had controlled it all. At the expense of us all, she had made her will, reality, and reality, her bitch.

And then I was hit by something else entirely. For the full weight of her meaning dawned on me just as she manipulated reality, I manipulated dreams. Heck, even Lissa's healing could be considered a sort of bodily manipulation!? Were we the same? I thought back to the callousness in which Avery treated her brother, the ease in which she lied to us all. Added to that was whatever perverse horror going on with the ghosts. Lissa at least had Rose, but I… Was I…?

"You're a spirit user?" I all but whimpered, the question almost begging her to deny it.

Avery smiled, fanning her fingers across my chest, and pressing her hips down further against me. "Now you see, we are perfectly matched…" Her voice was like the wind's howl on a silent night. Her hands drifted down my chest, towards my abdomen. "We were made for each other." She murmured, her gaze following her hands. "Adrian," Her eyes flicked up as she trailed a line of kisses up my sternum until she reached my lips, "be magnificent with me."

Her kiss was like poison on my lips, and the sensation awakening me into action as I pulled back in disgust. "No."

Avery blinked. "What?"

"No," I repeated, pushing her off. As soon as I did, I felt the full exposure of my nakedness. Desperately, I jumped up and began frantically looking for my clothes.

"Adrian!?" Even at the substantial distance I had put between us, her shock was tangible.

I briefly met her gaze and found no regret, no remorse. A shudder of shame went through me. Were we the same? "No." I weakly said again. Indeed, if I was being completely honest, I wasn't one hundred percent sure I was responding to Avery.

My uncertainty was not lost on Avery who, I observed in the corner of my eye, had raised herself to an almost serpentine posture. "Adrian…" she said more gently this time, "don't deny yourself. Come back to me."

I buckled the belt of my jeans and looked up at her. The sun had gone completely, and she knelt tall on my bed like a serpentine shadow. "We are not the same."

She tilted her, pouting patronizingly. "Not even you believe that."

"I couldn't hurt anyone to get what I want. Dead or alive." I spat.

Her countenance darkened. "What?" she all but growled.

My eyes widened with surprise as realisation dawned on me once more. She didn't know. At this a smirked. "What? You think someone didn't notice? You may have fooled me, but Rose has been on to you for months now."

Despite the darkness that surrounded us, her glare glowed with her anger. My smirk grew, only to immediately falter when I clocked my shirt discarded on the floor as I was reminded of the events of the not an hour ago. Another shudder went through me. I had to get out of there.

I had to find Rose.

"Oh, Adrian…" My eyes flicked to Avery; she had stood up from the bed and flung on my dressing gown, her fury remained, but her grin had returned as she sauntered past my fireplace. Shit, I had said that out loud. I forgot the shirt, and made my way past her, only to hear: "You must realise, I can't let you go."

It was only too late that I saw the coal shovel in her hand…

The memory hit me just like that bloody shovel, awakening me fully. I had also come to the haunting realisation that the warm liquid trickling down my back was very probably my own blood. On the plus side, the throbbing headache had dulled a little, though my pounding heartbeat was doing a fantastic job of making up the loss. As were Avery's words, for I also realised the idea that we were the same was the foundation of the shame I was feeling. Though given that my prior reaction had resulted in my keeping my head smacked with my own coal shovel, I needed to not let them paralyze me this time.

The light of the corridor had given me a renewed sense of hope. However, I couldn't alert the person at the door without alerting Avery, who not only had her magic but my iron coal shovel very close to hand. It was probably best for all involved to avoid drawing her attention.

At the very least, she was distracted. I did try to listen in, but my head was still a little foggy which irritably made everything around me sound as though it were occurring underwater. Plan B was therefore given a full promotion. I needed to get to Rose. How became my primary concern as dreamwalking was out of the question – not only did I know that Rose was very much awake but given that it was all I could do to remain conscious with my head wound, I very much doubted I could muster any sort of Spirit magic right now.

Thus, I needed to get out of this on my own. I thought I could make for the window, before remembering that I was four floors up. I didn't want to risk death, particularly given that death seemingly no longer guaranteed full liberty from whatever Avery was doing. There was also another issue. Indeed, when I inspected my ropey shackles for means of escape, I discovered that Avery had clearly had some girl scout training because the knot was something to behold. It twisted in ways that would have been difficult to follow even with proper lighting and a not-bashed-in scull. Thus, I ended up just indiscriminately tugging at my wrists, which, as it will surprise no-one, saw no success. I groaned internally. Instinct had me tugging again, only this time I yanked against the bedpost and not between my wrists. The result was still as disappointing, made worse by the pain that shot through my shoulders as a combined effect of the force and angle. An involuntary whimper left me, but the silence that followed left me far more horrified.

They had heard me.

Shit.

I watched as Avery tried to play it off, but when she tried to slam the door, she was stopped dead in her tracks. The door jarred and she stumbled forward, losing her grip. The door flung open, light flooding in along with another familiar face.

Belikov.

My heart jumped a beat. I honestly never thought I'd see the day when I would be actually happy to see the Russian cradle-robber. Even in that moment, the irony of it all wasn't lost on me. But my shock was twofold as it dawned on me just how much danger he was in.

For he could not see Avery grab that shovel.

"Belikov!" I yelled from beneath the gag.

His reaction was a sharp as cut glass, but not even he could anticipate the sheer velocity of that shovel. I watched him fall, out cold. Avery turned and slammed the door, plunging the room back into darkness. She let out a sigh of frustration, tossing the shovel to one side and burying her face in her hands. Moments later, she flung them out akimbo, stretching before bringing them down. She then caught my gaze and smiled, drifting across the room, over Dimitri, towards me. She was still dressed only in my robe, the gentle silver silk against her pale skin giving her an ironically ghostly appearance. I draw back as she knelt before me but found myself blocked by the wall. She reached out and ran the fingers of her left hand in my hair, unphased by the dried blood that clumped it together.

"This would all go so much smoother if you were with me." She whispered, before brushing her lips over my cheek.

Not a minute later, there was a knock at the door. Avery softly sighed, before pulling away and walking towards the door. When she opened it, Simon stepped in.

"We have a problem." She said, cutting straight to the chase.

With an alarming lack of hesitation, Simon replied: "Do you want me to dispose of them?"

"No, Adrian is not to be harmed. As for this one…" she gestured down to Dimitri, whom she had just left where he had fallen "…we need him." She said, sounding almost disappointed. "I don't know how much exactly, but Rose Hathaway definitely knows something." Her words dripped in bitterness. "But…" her tone shifted, and her grin returned, "now we have the upper hand." She crouched down and stroked her hand across his head. "Because Rose won't do anything to harm her precious cripple."

RPOV

"What did he mean 'everyone'?"

It must be said, Christian Ozera wasted no time in a crisis. The words had barely left my mouth before he interjected. Heck, Mason had barely left the room.

"He said she was going after everyone: everyone in the Shadow World." I said, still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.

"What, every ghost?" Eddie perked up from his box, torment raging across his countenance as his desire to believe the best in people, but knowledge of the worst battled for dominance.

I thought back to what Father Andrew had told me. Young and violent deaths. Less than forty days. But Killian's brother had died years ago. So had Ivan Zeklos. So had Andre Dragomir. "I don't think it's just ghosts."

His eyes widened. "Oh." He said. I saw Killian tense too.

"Why, though?" Christian broke the silence. "Why does she want to bring anyone back?"

I slumped onto a box of my own, burying my head in my palms with a sigh. That was the killer question here. With everything I knew already, I could well believe that spirit could bring back the dead. But why Avery wanted to was beyond anything I had known. "I have no idea," I admitted through my hands, feeling everyone's eyes on me. The fatigue of having not slept really hit me at that moment, and all I felt was dejection. "I have no idea."

I heard Killian clear his throat. "Okay…" he said tentatively, "Let's take this from a different angle. What exactly happens when someone is brought back?"

Rebekah Tarus zombie-esque form flashed through my mind. I shuddered. "Nothing good," I said, rubbing my hands on my face.

In my periphery, I saw a frown form on Killian's face. "But you were brought back?"

I looked up, my hands falling into my lap. "Yeah, but I wasn't-" I cut myself off. I had been about to deny it, but the truth showed otherwise. I was dead. Albeit only for a moment, but I was technically dead. My fatigue was pushed aside by the conclusion manifest.

What happens when someone is brought back by a spirit user?

They are shadow-kissed.

No sooner had the idea formed in my head than its implication hit me. "She's making more bondmates."

Eddie frowned. "She's what?"

"When someone is brought back, they are shadow kissed." I echoed my thoughts.

Killian eyed me curiously. "Can she have more than one?"

At this, hope surged within me once more. "She already does – her guardian is as well as her brother."

"Shit." Eddie said with his eyebrows raised and fingers massaging his temples.

"Okay, so she's making bondmates. What for?" Christian asked, wasting no time. "Why would she want more people knocking around in her head?"

Killian frowned once again. "Is there a benefit to having a bondmate?"

"Bit rude, Hazza."

He gave me a wry look. "You know what I meant."

I grinned, but when I saw Christian's glare, I elected to get back on topic. "Right, well the ability to share the darkness is the most obvious upside."

"And what does that do for the spirit user?" Killian asked, edging my thoughts on once again.

"It allows them to practice their magic," I replied plainly.

I saw Eddie's eyes flick up. "It removes the limitation."

Killian, Christian, and I all looked towards him. "How'd you mean?" I asked.

"Well, without the darkness, wouldn't Lissa be able to fully embrace her power?" He posited. "Maybe the more bondmates you have, the more magic you can harness?"

"So, Avery wants power?" Christian gawked with no little disgust.

I was suddenly reminded of the argument Killian and I had witnessed between Avery and her father, and the look on Killian's face when he caught my gaze told me he remembered it too. The way she had been subjected and belittled. Hell, she had even said her very coming to St. Vlad's was against her will – something she had been forced to do. And I very much doubted things were any different at the Royal Court. "She wants her own power…"

He nodded slightly. "She wants her own freedom."

At that moment, I pitied her.

I saw Christian grimace before a confusion covered his countenance. "Wait, what's any of this got to do with Lissa?"

"Maybe she's not strong enough yet?" Eddie suggested. "Maybe she needs Lissa's magic as well?"

"But how would she-" My words stopped with a jagged halt like a needle falling off a record as the answer hit me.

Compulsion only got you so far.

She was going to kill Lissa.

Hello there!

So, we're back in action! Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know :D

Stay safe xx