FULL SUMMARY: Post-TFH. Fighting to keep their sanity and the other alive, Sydney and Adrian must balance on the fine line between truth and lies. While the center might hold, the foundations of both their people are rocked in the search to duplicate the Strigoi vaccine. Views become skewed. Bloodlines are revealed. Bonds are forged and tested. Steeped in shadows and silver linings, history is changing and in the making. In the struggle to find a way back to each other, Sydney and Adrian will have to decide: be together or stay apart for the greater good. And with his personal demons rearing and her memories disappearing, the choice might be made for them.

The Vampire Academy and Bloodlines series belong to Richelle Mead. I do not know and am in no way associated with the author. All other publicly recognizable details belong to the original owners. Copyright infringement is not intended.

The following fan fic is for entertainment purposes only. Although titled after the next installment of the Bloodlines series, it is not the real sequel to The Fiery Heart or even an attempt at the series' direction. It is simply from my own imagination and whims, born from a need to continue living in Ms. Mead's world. While I've done my best to stay true to her characters, plot, and story details along with myth and history, I might have gotten something wrong—or just thumbed my nose and took liberties. You can dropkick me for it and the fact this isn't edited. But I wish you wouldn't. I bruise easily.

Find the link to Adrian's playlist on my profile. Songs will be added once the chapters are posted.

Content warning: Series spoilers, mild language, brief violence, and mentions of torture, self-harm, and drugs.

Reviews are magic and appreciated.

SILVER SHADOWS

Part One: The Spiral of Silence

There are some qualities—some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence—sea and shore—
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More."

— From Edgar Allen Poe's Sonnet—Silence

Chapter One

Adrian

"How I wish, how I wish you were here," I sang softly and horribly off tune in to the air, Pink Floyd's words reverberating in my head. Though the album had stopped playing an hour ago, the static of the still spinning record echoed in the space. "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl."

A fish bowl of oblivion. And as much as I was already living in it, I wished I could sink deeper into its dark emptiness and silence.

Instead, I was all too aware of laying in my living room, cushioned by a shaggy secondhand rug. Homebound traffic thrummed with the occasional honk outside my windows, and the setting sun swashed my yellow-painted wall with brilliant color. Twilight, my kind the Moroi's favorite time of the evening, marked the end of another day since Sydney's capture by her own people, the Alchemists.

Nearly six weeks had passed since the organization had discovered she was in a relationship with what they considered was an evil creature of the night. Over six weeks since she and I had eaten her birthday dinner on the exact spot I lay, where she had laughed and wiped peppermint frosting from the corner of my mouth just before I leaned in to kiss her. Candlelight had played softly against her blonde hair and reflected in her amber eyes, creating an exquisite picture, but nothing was more beautiful and stunning than her full-blown smile and her saying she loved me. A smile that hardly anyone saw, and words that she had never said to any other man but me. Me.

An ache weighed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Then, and now. Yet also, like that moment, the memory soothed. She was real. We were. We weren't a dream, but one realized and come true. Sometimes, I wasn't sure. In these rare instances of clarity, I was. I needed to be. Sydney needed me to be.

Groaning, I stood up and avoided looking at scattered blank canvases and the stocked liquor cabinet. The lure of alcohol was bottomless, never-ending and tempting, but not quite as deep as the desperation to find the light of my life.

I patted my pockets, searching for my keys and reaching for my cell. I silenced it just as the alarm sounded. Striding to the door and grabbing a light jacket, I headed out and thought of how Sydney would be proud of not only my punctuality but also of my planning ahead and gaining an internal clock. My aunt, the late Moroi queen, would have teased me for trying to be responsible, but I knew she would have been proud too, if not also a little suspicious of the cause or motive.

No, don't think of her.

I didn't want her making an appearance tonight, and I couldn't think of them together. Aunt Tatiana was dead. Sydney was alive. She wouldn't share the same fate, not if I had anything to do about it and definitely not anytime soon. Marcus Finch, a former Alchemist and the Robin Hood to its wayward members, assured me as much. The Thought Police would try to "reeducate" her, not kill her.

I grimaced at what that could mean but quickly pushed aside the thoughts.

My phone rang, thankfully pulling me away further from ideas of coercion as I reached the Ivashkinator and settled into the 1967 Mustang, the outside gleaming and the interior clean in case we found Sydney at any moment. She loved the classic car, maybe as much as she loved me. No matter what condition we found her in, she would ask about the hunk of metal she had named. I wouldn't disappoint her, and like with everything Sydney cared about, I did too.

I closed the door and started the ignition before answering my cell without a glance at the caller I.D., expecting it showed an unregistered number.

"Tell me you have news, Marcus."

He groaned then growled. "You did not just answer that way. Wasn't it that kind of carelessness that got everyone in to this mess?"

The air in my lungs expelled in a rush. No matter what precautions Sydney and I had taken to hide our relationship by having an extra pair of phones, losing one with texts between us had changed our lives for the worst. I had been careless to not check for mine before getting out of her car the night of her birthday, only for her sister Zoe to find it and turn Sydney in to their people.

The reminder was a punch to the gut, but Marcus was right. It was my fault Sydney was caught, and I should be more careful. I wasn't about to admit either to him, though, and stayed silent.

"Man, I'm sorry." He exhaled heavily. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm just frustrated."

My shoulders drooped. "No news then." I expected as much. Still, I had hoped.

"None," he confirmed. "I've got an couple plans in motion, but …"

"But they'll need time before we get answers." I pulled out of the parking lot. Tucking the phone between my cheek and shoulder, I shifted gears and headed toward Vista Azul. "And they're risky and your last resort." Also meaning his last options, that he'd run out of ideas.

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what those plans are?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Nope. The less you know of those, the better."

"Well, thanks for the update." My tone was dry, but I meant the words, and Marcus had learned to ignore my attitude. He chuckled in that way of his when things weren't really that funny.

"Of course. I figured you'd try to contact me tonight anyway, but I ditched the last burner phone. Don't call it. And stop saying my name out in the open."

"Speaking of safety and caution." I changed lanes, receiving a honk and a finger from the man I cut off. "You need to switch up the calling times a bit more. You're becoming predictable."

A scary thought. The man was actually dependable and no longer surprised me. He'd call every few days for my updates and with any Alchemist rumor or clue to run by me. Grudgingly, I had begun to trust him, something Sydney might be happy to hear. But with him on the run as the Alchemists' Most Wanted and being one of my very limited avenues to finding Sydney, no one could afford for Marcus to be caught because he slipped or lost his edge.

He guffawed. "All right. You just be sure to stay predictable."

"That's the plan."

And so far an easy one, at that. These days without Sydney and mood stabilizing pills, only drinking, smoking, and partying—well, maybe not so much the last—helped me cope with crippling emotions and the destructive effects of spirit, the rare magic element I could wield. But most importantly, my once old vices and behavior masked my true feelings and intentions. If the Alchemists were keeping tabs on me—which, undoubtedly, they were—they couldn't suspect that I, or any of else, was looking for her. They needed to believe I'd moved on and wasn't a threat to them or Sydney's "recovery."

Marcus grunted. "Good. I have to go out of state for a few new recruits. I'll call you in a couple weeks. When you least expect it," he added, making me snort. "Or when I get word."

The line clicked, and I let the phone drop in to my lap.

When. He'd said "when," not "if." Gotta love the guy for his faith.

I wished I had more.

I shook off the pitiful thought. Amberwood Prep had come into view. The secluded private high school in Palm Springs was home to Jill Mastrano Dragomir, my best friend and the only living family to Lissa Dragomir, our young Moroi queen.

After an assassination that would've have been successful if not for me using the magical element of spirit to bring Jill back from the dead and thus bonding her to me, she—along with a band of stake-wielding misfits who were more family than mere friends—was whisked away to hide. No Moroi, the living vampires, or Strigoi, the undead vampires, of our secret existence would expect Jill to be in the sunny SoCal location of higher education for humans.

Seeing her standing near the curb in front of her dorm, her wavy, light brown hair blowing around her, I could feel my chest lighten but then tighten. Her face was paler than usual, and dark circles ringed her eyes. I was wrong before. Besides imbibing, Jill literally and figuratively could keep the spiritual darkness at bay by pulling it from me. For her sake, not only Sydney's, I could tone down my depression and self-medicating.

Plastering on a smile, I pulled up in front of her and leaned over to pop open the passenger door. "Hey, Jailbait."

She eased onto the seat and squeezed my arm. "Hey."

Okay, so I wasn't fooling her.

She offered me a small smile and shook her head.

I loved her, but damn the bond.

Her smile grew. She chuckled softly as she turned to close her door. A hand stopped it, and that pretty smile slipped when the guardian—or her shadow, I should say—bent over and his face came into view.

Eddie Castile. A dhampir, he was half-Moroi. With the exception of having an affinity of an element, he had all my kind's supernatural strengths but none of our weaknesses. With quicker reflexes, heightened agility, and better endurance, dhampirs protected the Moroi. Add that Eddie was extremely dedicated and in love Jill and, well, no one—human, Moroi, or Strigoi—would hurt her.

By the look on Jill's face, I knew—he was the exception. She had kissed him weeks ago, much to his shock. But despite her returning his strong feelings, he still needed "time" to think about their relationship, what our society would consider taboo. Maybe not as bad compared to Sydney and me, a human and Moroi, but bad enough. Moroi and dhampirs had the occasional fling to ensure the continuation of both races, but a serious relationship was unusual and distasteful. A male dhampir and a female Moroi and the fact she was royalty? Completely scandalous. While I didn't believe that was enough to deter the ever-determined Castile, I knew duty was.

"Going somewhere?" he asked with a raised brow.

She smiled tightly. "Just waiting for you."

I covered my laugh with a cough and hid my first real smile of the day. Eddie didn't even try.

With what sounded like a growl, Jill stepped out and snapped the seat forward. Normally, when Eddie accompanied us, he sat passenger in my two-door car, but he made no protest today. The six-foot-plus guardian folded himself in to the back, narrowly missing the seat as Jill flipped it into place, sat down with a huff, and slammed the door.

"Whew." I studied the pair. Yesterday, they were fine, even a little cozy, at the home of Clarence Donahue, a Moroi whom was perfectly out of touch with society—and in the mind—but allowed Jill and me the chance to use his feeder twice a week. What the hell had happened since then?

A glare, jade green identical to Lissa's, was my answer.

"Okay …" Maybe I didn't want to know. "Seat belts, children."

A coffee shop pit stop and fifteen minutes of strained silence on the road later, and I changed my mind.

"Adrian, don't," murmured Jill.

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm sorry, but I can't." I glanced at her and then in the rearview mirror at Eddie. "What happened? Why the cold shoulders?"

No answer.

"Do either of you have any idea what I would give to have Sydney next to me?" I parked in front of Wolfe School of Defense, my hands clenched around the steering wheel. "To have her safe? To have time—or even the chance? And you're both wasting it!"

Nothing. Not a peep.

I gritted my teeth and stared ahead. Malachi Wolfe, owner of the training center Sydney and I had once attended, stepped out of his dilapidated home adjacent to the facility, followed by Jaclyn Terwilliger, Sydney's history teacher. She smiled and waved at us as Wolfe wrapped an arm around her and whispered in her ear, making her blush.

Who would have known the eye-patch-wearing, tale-spinning ex-Marine and the hippy caffeine addict could be so good together? Sydney and I hadn't. We'd been floored when they'd started dating. Sometimes, they still baffled me, but it was nice to see an unlikely pair so happy together, caring for one another unconditionally and shrugging off what others thought.

If only the two stubborn imbeciles in the car with me could do so.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, so bone and soul weary—and afraid. Afraid of what would or wouldn't happen tonight. Afraid for Sydney and myself. Without her, I didn't know what to do and what would happen to me. The hole carved in my chest gaped wider with each passing day, until there would be nothing left.

I could help those who mattered the world to us and were here now, relatively safe, though.

I removed my keys and opened the door. "I'm going inside to find the love of my life or, at the very least, a way to. Hopefully. Do not follow me until you two talk. Get over whatever has you angry." My glare met Jill's glistening eyes before I threw it at Eddie. "Or you holding back. Decide. Man-up."

Jaw clenched, he gave me a curt nod, letting me know he recognized the words he had emphasized on me (with a couple timed shoves) a few weeks ago so I could get my act together in some semblance of control.

I squeezed Jill's hand. Quickly, before I really lost it, I scooped up the whole bean French roast, stepped out, and shut the door. Placing the bag on the roof of my car, I reached for a cigarette and noted my hands were shaking.

Damn. It had only been a few hours since my last. I was already losing a grip. And although the tension in my body eased with the first drag, I winced. After a couple months of successfully quitting, I'd lost my taste for smoking and was worried how disappointed Sydney would be. But circumstances and old habits and all that.

No doubt noticing I needed a moment, Jackie gestured toward Wolfe's training center. I nodded my thanks and watched as she dragged him to the building.

Following them slowly across the gravel parking lot, I took in the surroundings in my periphery. A few junk cars lined the street dotted with lights, but no one seemed to be hanging around the compound. Nonetheless, for anyone watching, I deeply inhaled clove nicotine before stomping it out and swigging from the empty flask I pulled from my jacket. I stumbled around too, though I didn't have to fake the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbled out.

God, how had I ever survived like this when it was real? And how could anyone believe it now? I had been driving—with Jill in the car! As if I'd ever endanger her. Drunk drivers … Talk about evil creatures of the night. I hoped any spying Alchemists were getting their fill of my show, because they could suck it.

"Adrian?"

I stopped chuckling and looked up. I was inside the training room. Mats and dummies sectioned the garage that was more like a small warehouse. Weapons, from knives to nun chucks, crossbows to wicked-looking spears, along with all types of pads and protective gear, hung on the walls. One side was partially taken up with mirrors. And Jackie, with a hand above my elbow, stood in front of me, studying me worriedly.

As well as being a history teacher, Jackie was a witch and Sydney's mentor in the arcane trade. She'd recognized my girl's untapped power and natural talent. After great reluctance and overcoming ingrained beliefs that magic of any kind was evil, Sydney embraced it—something else the Alchemists would torture her for if they ever learned of it.

But besides being in the same coven and sharing a love for history, caffeine, and everything near the Mediterranean, teacher and pupil had grown close. Tirelessly, Jackie was trying every spell she could to locate Sydney. I loved her for it. More than that, I never once felt she judged Sydney and me and our relationship.

"Hey." I gave an awkward smile and handed her my offering. "Sorry it's not brewed bean, but I know you can't have caffeine before spelling. How's it going, Jackie?"

"Fine." Her gaze searched my eyes, a ton of questions reflecting in her own. She frowned before finally settling on: "How are you sleeping? I can give you an herbal tea, you know, to help."

I made a face.

She laughed and patted my arm. "All right, but you let me know if you change your mind."

"Will do." Though not likely. I glanced around. "Where's your beau?"

"Moving the rest of my tools to the backroom." Turning away and walking in that direction, she didn't question why I had asked her if we could meet at Wolfe's instead of her house. I was thankful. I didn't want to scare or worry her more. But I think she knew.

We weren't underestimating the Alchemists. I needed a reason and a buffer for having any contact with someone connected to Sydney, especially since Jill insisted on tagging along. She, with Jackie's Wolfe, actually provided the cover, flimsy as it was. The Princess was learning self-defense—if she and her guardian could get over themselves and come inside, and hopefully soon or all our planning and sneaking around wouldn't matter.

Jackie, ever the intuitive woman, asked, "So, Jill's getting a lesson in love tonight, huh?"

"Ha! Her and Eddie."

"Yes, well …" she hooked an arm through mine "… true love is always a tumultuous journey. Worth all the trouble, of course—and it endures a lot. But it does endure."

Jackie didn't say it, but I heard it.

Centrum permanebit.

Sydney's message to me before the Alchemists took her away, given through Eddie because he was the only one of us who had been there, and translated by Jackie because it was Latin. Although Jackie's full translation with "endures" or even "remains" was off, the message was clear. But while those were pretty variations and sounded everlasting, I preferred the words Sydney and I had quoted before from a William Morris poem. They meant infinitely more.

The center will hold.

I didn't say anything, nor could I look at her, but I wrapped an arm around Jackie's shoulders and squeezed.

As we entered the backroom, Wolfe peeked over a stack of boxes. "You hitting on my woman?"

It hurt to do so, but I smiled. "Just appreciating."

"You do that." He grunted and dropped the boxes next to a solid wood worktable. Straightening, he narrowed his one eye—which I was sure had the patch over it yesterday—and pointed at me. "And only that."

My lips twitched. I nodded as solemnly as I could. Jackie gave him a fond look before her glittering eyes turned to me. Our mirth, what little we had, evaporated.

The moment of truth. Would we connect with Sydney tonight or get only blackness as we had been?

"We'll find her, Adrian."

I nodded but wasn't so sure.

Kissing Wolfe on the cheek, Jackie handed him the coffee and silently began unpacking what she needed to scry.

Wolfe looked at the label on the bag. "Oh good. The chihuahuas love whole bean French Roast." I knew that. Sydney had told me the bizarre tidbit about Wolfe's eleven tiny monsters.

"C'mon, pretty boy." Wolfe beckoned me with a hand, obviously knowing Jackie needed to be alone. "I brought a futon in to the next room for you. Jaclyn wanted you to be comfortable, though I don't why. I once had to meditate on a bed of coals under the scorching African sun to commune with a medicine man, who in turn would tell me a women's name. Like Wanjiru the Maiden, she would need to be found, bought from her family, and sacrificed to bring rain."

My brows shot up. Although I wasn't surprised Wolfe had another crackpot tale, the ridiculousness always shocked me, this one even more so because of how close he had hit home. Did Jackie tell him about our situation and what I was about to do? As far as I was aware, Wolfe didn't know about the Alchemists or my kind and specific ability. I wasn't exactly meditating, but the state of walking through others' dreams did seem trance-like to those witnessing from the outside.

Even eerier, Sydney would have to be rescued from her "family" or she'd be sacrificed for the "greater good." Granted, it wouldn't be with her life—which I still couldn't quite believe—but it would be everything that made her Sydney. Her spirit and individuality, her fiery heart, her thirst for knowledge and will do what was right. All that I loved about her would be gone, more the longer the Alchemists had her.

I swallowed and asked Wolfe, "Did it rain?"

"Not because of me. I wasn't really part of the tribe and never got a name." He crossed his arms and shrugged. "But it did rain. It flooded, actually. People died, though later many rejoiced. They had a bounty in crops." He stared at me, expression … intense and unexplainable. I shivered. Wolfe shook himself, slapped me on the shoulder, and squeezed. "I'll wait by the front for the lovebirds to come inside. Don't holler if you need anything."

I snorted, but my insides trembled. I wasn't ready to let go of Sydney, for anyone. Ever.

From my pocket, I took out another dependence of sorts, my only companion and tangible connection to Sydney—Hopper, a callistana she once brought to our realm through a spell and that was now trapped in his inert form without her. A serpent dragon similar to the Chinese rather than the European kind, he was protective and yet more of our baby than a bodyguard or helper. My fingers worried across his hard scales, which had lost some of their gold luster, his beady eyes also less pleading and anxious than yesterday. He wasn't going to last a year this way.

"Don't give up yet, buddy."

Petting Hopper despite that he was a figurine, I sat on Wolfe's plaid futon, the only other item in the small room besides a metal desk with a matching chair. A few moments later, an echo of a closing door and multiple footsteps indicated Jill and Eddie came inside. All was quiet afterward.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back and summoned a bit of spirit. The element brought the familiar rush of joy and life but, like both, fleeting as I pushed my mind to reach for Sydney's and encountered black.

Then suddenly, the void shifted from impenetrable shadows to mist, thinning to reveal a shape with a familiar but erratic aura.

My breath caught before I ran. "Sydney!"