The night did not end when Mira closed her eyes again.
It began.
Sleep came to her like a trap—slow, strange, and far too quiet. The moment she slipped into unconsciousness, the air around her shifted again. What she found wasn't the peaceful darkness of dreams, but a chaotic whirlwind of screams, flames, and blood.
She stood in a field of ash.
The sky above was red as if painted in fire, and the earth below her feet cracked and burned. Shadows moved like beasts—twisting, snarling, whispering her name.
"Mira…"
"Mira…"
"Blood-born… Gold-blood…"
"The child of betrayal…"
Her breath shook. Her arms wrapped around herself as she stepped backward—only to see four figures ahead of her, bathed in firelight. The Lords. Aedric, Kael, Lucien, and Thorne—each of them with their backs turned to her, standing before a pyre.
On it—two bodies burning.
A man and a woman.
She couldn't move.
"MOTHER!" Mira screamed. "FATHER?!"
None of the four men turned around. Their eyes, even from the side, were void of emotion—cold as steel, faces lit only by the flickering red.
Then came a voice behind her.
"You keep trying to wake up from your truth, Mira. But it was never a dream."
She turned sharply—there he stood.
A man cloaked in black. Tall, regal, terrifying. His eyes were unlike the other Lords'—not red, but dark gold, glowing like the dying sun.
His lips curled. "You saw them die. But you don't remember. You chose not to remember."
Mira gasped as the man reached toward her, and the moment his fingers grazed her cheek, her body jerked—
She woke up screaming.
Gasping for breath, sweat soaked her skin. Her heart hammered like a wild drum, and her eyes searched the room—no fire. No screams. No shadows.
But then—
Kael kicked open her door.
His eyes flared, silver turning crimson. "What did you see?" he demanded, storming into the room as the other three—Aedric, Thorne, and Lucien—followed closely behind.
"I—I don't know," Mira panted, eyes wide, clutching the bed sheet. "It was fire—my parents—they were—burning—and you all were just standing there…"
Lucien's face darkened. "She's remembering," he muttered.
Thorne narrowed his eyes at the others. "This isn't just a dream."
Kael approached slowly, voice low but threatening. "Who touched you tonight, Mira? You're marked. I smell it. It wasn't us."
"I don't know!" she screamed. "There was a man… he had gold eyes. He said—he said I chose not to remember."
Silence.
Then a single name left Aedric's lips like a curse.
"…Valen."
Kael punched the nearby wall, cracking it down the middle. "That bastard's back?!"
Lucien's lips tightened. "The fifth. The strongest. And the most unpredictable."
Thorne spoke quietly but firmly. "He's already begun to claim her."
Mira's hands trembled. "What does he want from me?"
"You," Kael said, finally meeting her gaze. "All of you. Just like we do. But unlike us… Valen doesn't hate you."
"Then—why does that sound worse?" she whispered.
Aedric looked away.
Because it was.
Valen didn't hate her.
Valen would keep her.
Break her.
Make her his queen.
And nothing—not even the four Lords of the Night—could stop him when he decided to take what belonged to him.