The nights in the vampire kingdom were not quiet.
They breathed.
They whispered.
They watched.
And as Mira sat curled in the shadowed library of the unwelcoming mansion, her fingers clutching a brittle book of vampire history, her heart begged for answers—Why her? What was the tie between her blood and the four Lords? Why did they hate her but never let her go? Why did their touch ignite a fire that seared her soul even as she flinched from it?
But miles away, deeper than any human had ever dared step, past the dead trees and the blood river that carved through the forest like a wound—they had returned.
The Lords of the Night.
Varek. Kaelen. Lucien. Darian.
Their boots crushed bones and old roots as they walked side by side through the dead fog, each carrying the power of centuries with every step. No words were spoken between them as they neared the obsidian gates. They didn't need to.
The gates of the Vampire Palace creaked open of their own accord, sensing their blood—pure, cursed, royalty.
On the other side, thousands of vampires fell to one knee.
Eyes glowing red, blue, violet, green—every creature of the night in that kingdom bowed before the returning sons.
Kaelen gave a crooked smirk, cracking his neck. "I always forget how much I hate the smell of worship."
Lucien didn't look at anyone, just muttered, "We came for answers. Not for admiration."
Darian's eyes scanned the crowd, silent as always, but there was a flicker in his expression—almost regret.
Only Varek looked straight ahead, his gold eyes burning like molten punishment. "We speak to them. We get the truth. Then we decide what happens to her."
They ascended the bloodstone steps, entering the palace of dusk—a place soaked in centuries of war and whispers.
At the end of the throne hall sat the King and Queen.
The King, Aldric—the First Fang, ancient and merciless, with silver streaks in his hair like veins of moonlight, eyes as deep as graves.
The Queen, Lysaria—eternally beautiful, her skin pale as snowfall, lips stained wine-red, her silence more powerful than a scream.
The Lords stopped and dropped to one knee—reluctantly.
"My sons," the Queen's voice curled like silk in smoke, "you return bearing rage."
King Aldric's eyes narrowed. "Your blood burns. You've tasted something you do not understand. Speak."
Varek stepped forward. "Mira." He growled the name like it wounded his throat. "The girl. The one our blood bound to. Why?"
Queen Lysaria blinked slowly, her eyes flashing to the shadows of the hall where even the statues dared not breathe.
"You met her," the King said grimly. "Then the past has begun to circle again."
Lucien stepped forward, biting down his fury. "You knew. You always knew."
"You were not ready to carry that truth," the Queen replied calmly.
Darian's voice cut through the silence—low, sharp. "Then speak it now."
Queen Lysaria finally stood, descending the steps with the grace of starlight. "She is the blood-daughter of the last rebellion. The only child born from forbidden blood. Your fates were sealed the moment she drew breath."
"The Rebellion," Kaelen sneered. "You mean the one you crushed."
The King's voice thundered, ancient and cold. "We crushed it because it almost destroyed the kingdom."
"She's their daughter?" Lucien asked, voice laced with disbelief. "The leaders of the Blood Revolt?"
"She was hidden away," Lysaria said. "By your hands, in fact."
Varek stilled. "What?"
The Queen's eyes narrowed. "You killed them. Burned their sanctuary. You were too young to know. Too angry. But the child… the child was saved. Not by us."
Kaelen's hands fisted. "You made us murder her parents?"
"They were traitors," the King spat. "And now the traitor's blood runs in your mate."
The word echoed.
Mate.
The throne room dropped to a silence that suffocated.
"She's not our mate," Varek growled, voice trembling with fury. "She's our curse."
"No," Lysaria said, stepping back into her throne. "She's your mirror. The very part of you that you tried to burn—still breathing."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "She doesn't even know who she is."
"She will," Darian said quietly, finally speaking with weight. "We all will."
A heavy pause settled in the air before Varek turned on his heel. "We're done here."
"You're not," the King said.
They all froze.
"She will awaken more than blood soon. The bond will grow. Her scent will call enemies you've never faced. If you do not protect her—"
"We don't protect her," Kaelen interrupted. "We survive her."
And they walked out.
The court remained bowed until the Lords vanished into the night once more.
---
Back in the mansion, Mira's hands trembled as she opened the oldest book in the library.
A symbol burned on the page—four fangs forming a circle around a crescent moon.
Her fingertips brushed over it.
And somewhere, deep inside her chest, something responded.
A whisper.
A fire.
A truth.
She wasn't just tied to them.
She was their undoing.
And maybe… their salvation.