A silence like death.
Then—
Boom.
The chamber trembled. The walls cracked.
And Seraphine's scream shattered the very air.
A scream so sharp, so raw, it didn't sound human.
It was the cry of a woman who had lost everything.
A cry that tore open the skies.
And in that moment—Seraphine was no longer herself.
Her eyes were pitch black, glimmering with bloodlust and divine vengeance. Her power exploded outward in a spiraling storm—black magic, Lycan rage, and witch fire all twisted together like a curse reborn.
The Elders turned in panic.
"Seal her!" one screamed.
But it was too late.
They had awakened the monster.
She moved.
A flick of her wrist—and one elder's body exploded into ash.
Another tried to run, but invisible chains wrapped around his throat, yanked him back, and crushed him like a ragdoll.
Seraphine didn't hesitate.
She didn't pause.
There was no mercy.
She tore through them with brutal, elegant violence.
One by one.
Crushed.
Burned.
Torn apart.
The chamber flooded with blood and the stench of fear. Screams echoed for only seconds before being silenced forever.
The once-mighty Council—gone.
When the final elder fell to the floor, his lifeless eyes wide in horror, Seraphine stood at the center—her hair whipping wildly around her like flames.
Then, her voice—cold, godlike—echoed across the ruined chamber.
> "To those who conspired with the Council..."
"To those who watched and stayed silent…"
"Let this be your punishment."
She raised her hand.
A dark sigil formed in the air.
> "You will be stripped of your blood. Of your strength. Of your name."
A wave of black and gold surged from her palm, expanding like a pulse.
Across the land, nobles and elites who had lent their loyalty to the Council fell to their knees, clutching their chests.
In an instant—they were human.
Stripped of everything.
They cried. They begged. But it was done.
Seraphine lowered her hand, eyes still gleaming with wrath.
Behind her, Caveen and Carlos pushed through the dust and debris.
And there he was.
Alaric.
Still.
Too still.
Seraphine collapsed beside him, cradling his lifeless body. Blood soaked her gown, his blood—warm, precious… fading.
Carlos knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her, grounding her as she trembled violently.
The strong, fierce woman who just annihilated a council of gods now wept like a child.
Carlos didn't speak.
He only held her tighter, letting her tears soak his shoulder.
Across the room, Caveen fell to his knees. His chest heaving, his fists clenched.
Then—
A howl.
Wild. Broken. Agonizing.
A cry that reached across the heavens and shattered hearts.
Those who heard it would never forget it.
Carl and Maika, miles away, dropped everything they held. A sudden, unexplainable ache pierced their souls.
They looked at each other—eyes wide, breath stolen.
> "Caveen…" Maika whispered, hand over her chest.
"Something terrible has happened," Carl said, jaw clenched, eyes dark.
Back in the blood-soaked chamber, Seraphine laid her head on Alaric's chest.
No heartbeat.
No rise and fall of breath.
Just silence.
Tears spilled from her eyes like rain, mixing with the blood beneath them.
> "You promised me…" she whispered, voice breaking. "You said you'd come back…"
The only reply was the echo of her sobs in the dead chamber.
And the memory of his final words.
> "Wait for me... I'll come back, my love."
Ravenshade Sanctuary stood still under a blanket of mourning.
No wind stirred. No birds sang.
Only silence.
And in the heart of that silence—he lay.
Alaric Vaelthorne, the last Elven royal, the awakened vampire prince… now resting in a glass coffin, suspended between life and eternal sleep.
Golden sigils glowed faintly around the coffin, pulsing with a weak rhythm—as if waiting for the day he would return.
At his side, every hour, every moment—Seraphine.
Kneeling. Sobbing. Unmoving.
For days, she didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Didn't speak.
Her once radiant eyes were now hollow, ringed with shadows. Her lips were cracked from dehydration. Her skin, pale and cold—not from her vampire blood, but from grief.
She would whisper to him sometimes, her voice hoarse and broken.
> "I should've stopped you from going there."
"You said you'd come back… you promised…"
"Please, Alaric… open your eyes…"
But the man she loved only slept.
Unmoving.
Unreachable.
---
It was on the fifth day that Maika and Carl arrived at the sanctuary.
Their expressions were grim, eyes filled with sorrow as they entered the chamber and saw her.
Seraphine didn't even turn her head.
She knelt beside the coffin, forehead resting against the cold glass, tears still falling.
> "Seraphine," Maika whispered gently, kneeling behind her. "You need to rest. You haven't eaten in days…"
Seraphine's voice was faint, but laced with warning.
> "Don't… please don't tell me what to do."
Carl stepped forward, jaw tight.
> "You're punishing yourself. This isn't what he would've wanted."
Her body trembled.
> "Then bring him back," she rasped. "If you can't do that—leave me alone."
A heavy silence filled the sanctuary. Maika looked to Carl. He sighed and stepped back.
For a month—they stayed.
They cooked meals she never touched. Sat beside her even when she ignored them. Cried with her in silence.
And still—Alaric never stirred.
---
On the thirtieth day, Maika and Carl stood outside the sanctuary gates.
Their bags packed. Their hearts heavy.
Inside, Carlos stood watch.
He had been the only one Seraphine tolerated in the room, the only one she let near without pushing away. Maybe because he didn't speak unless spoken to. Maybe because he simply understood the kind of grief that doesn't want comfort—only silence and time.
Maika turned to Carlos before leaving.
> "Take care of her," she said, voice soft. "She may look strong... but she's breaking."
Carlos nodded, eyes grim.
> "She's already broken," he said. "But I'll be here to help her pick up the pieces."
As Carl and Maika disappeared beyond the forest path, Carlos returned to the sanctuary chamber.
There she was—still kneeling.
Still weeping softly.
Still whispering words to a man who could no longer reply.
---
That night, a storm rolled across the skies of Ravenshade.
Thunder cracked like screams.
But Seraphine didn't flinch.
She pressed her hand to the glass, eyes glassy with fatigue and sadness.
> "I'll wait," she whispered, lips trembling.
"No matter how long it takes… even if it's forever…"
And behind her, Carlos remained silent… the last shield, the last companion of the fallen queen who had lost her king.