The night pulsed with the aftermath of the ritual, thick with energy that refused to settle. The stone floor of the ritual chamber was stained with the remnants of Mira's blood—golden and glowing, as if it carried the power of a thousand sunrises. The Four Lords stood in silence, still feeling the raw echo of what they had just done.
They hadn't expected this.
Lucien's body was the first to respond—his canines lengthening, the veins under his skin darkening as his chest rose with silent hunger.
"What the hell is this…" he whispered, staring at his trembling hands as black lines traced up his arms.
Kaelen stumbled a step back, gripping the wall for support as his vision blurred and sharpened all at once. "Her blood… it's not mortal. It's not even Guardian."
"It's golden," Darian muttered, voice tight with awe and fury. "That's why Seraphina called her the key."
Varek clenched his jaw, the skin along his neck twitching. His pupils narrowed into slits, his irises now glowing with a pale violet flame.
"She gave us more than a mark," he growled. "She gave us… power."
A low snarl vibrated in the chamber.
All four of them—partially shifted. Their skin cooler, senses sharper, thoughts darker.
Their vampire forms had stirred.
It was her blood. Her cursed, alluring, addictive blood.
—
Elsewhere in the mansion, Mira lay unconscious, tangled in a mess of white sheets, her body marked, drained, and trembling in silence.
Her skin glistened with sweat, the marks glowing faintly—constant proof of the bond now seared into her soul.
Then—
A door creaked.
And she entered.
Salena.
Wrapped in black lace, her ruby-red lips curled upward as she approached the bedside. A bowl of cool water rested in her hands, but her eyes carried no true concern.
She knelt beside Mira, brushing her hair back gently. "Ah, the sleeping jewel finally stirs."
Mira groaned softly as her eyes fluttered open. Her vision blurred before sharpening onto Salena's wicked smile.
"You…" Mira whispered, voice hoarse. "Why are you here?"
"To offer comfort," Salena said sweetly, dipping a cloth into the water and running it across Mira's burning forehead. "But not the kind you need, dear. Just enough to remind you where you stand."
Mira flinched away from the touch. "Don't pretend you care."
"Oh, I don't," Salena admitted, letting the cloth drop onto Mira's chest. "But watching you suffer fills a particular void in me. You see, Mira… this is what happens when the sins of your parents crawl back from the past."
"What do you know about my parents?" Mira sat up, weak but burning with the need for answers.
Salena smirked. "I know they were Guardians. Enemies of our kind. They wanted to wipe out the vampire bloodlines, to poison our royal veins. And they almost succeeded. Until they had you."
She leaned in closer, her breath brushing against Mira's ear.
"And now you… a child of betrayal… are nothing but a tool to those four men. Don't let the ritual confuse you. You're not special. You're not cherished. You're just a means to an end."
Mira shook her head, her heart pounding. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Salena stood slowly, her silhouette dark against the flickering candlelight. "They marked you, yes. But did you see love in their eyes? Or just hunger? Did you feel warmth—or cold teeth breaking into your skin?"
Mira didn't answer.
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes.
"You can try," Salena said, her voice turning into a venom-laced whisper. "You can beg, obey, crawl for them. But it won't change the truth. You're the daughter of their greatest enemy. And to them… that makes you nothing more than a pretty little curse they're forced to carry."
She walked toward the door, pausing only once.
"You may share their blood," she added with a smirk, "but you'll never hold their hearts."
The door slammed shut.
And Mira was left alone, trembling, her marked skin burning with heat… and shame.
But deep within her chest, something else stirred. Not fear. Not weakness.
It was anger.
And it was growing.