Chapter 4: Crimson Threads and Silver Fangs
The air outside the Underline was thick with static. The city of Eboncourt thrummed beneath a dusky red sky, the Blood Moon rising a day too early.
Elara stood near the gate of the forgotten chapel, her breath visible in the sudden cold. The Seer had disappeared as silently as she came, leaving only cryptic words echoing in Elara's mind.
She didn't realize someone was watching her.
Not until he spoke.
"Didn't expect a witch to be so… breathtaking."
Elara spun around, hand glowing faintly with residual magic. Her eyes locked with his—eyes like rubies, glowing faintly in the shadow of a bloodlit arch.
He was tall. Dressed in noble black. Not human. Not quite monster.
A vampire.
"I'm not a witch," she snapped.
"No," he said, smirking. "You're something else entirely."
Elara raised her chin. "And who are you?"
"Lucien Corvelle. Prince of the Crimson Court. And possibly your only hope."
She froze. She had heard the name. The youngest son of the king. Known for his silver tongue, darker rumors, and rumored involvement in the Northern Massacre.
"What do you want?"
"I want to keep you alive," he said simply. "Everyone else will want to use you, break you, or burn you. I'd prefer something else."
"And what's that?"
Lucien stepped closer. "To know you."
Elsewhere…
The Ironridge Wilds
The werewolf moved through the pines like smoke, silent, tracking the scent of blood and ash.
He hadn't told her his name, not because he didn't have one, but because names meant bonds—and bonds got you killed.
But now he whispered it to the moon.
"Kael."
The wind answered with a howl.
He could still smell her. And now… him.
A vampire. Already circling her like a hawk.
Kael clenched his fists.
She doesn't know it yet, he thought, but she's mine to protect.
Back in the City…
Elara followed Lucien through a hidden corridor of red marble and blackstone, unaware of the daggered glances cast from every shadow.
"I don't trust you," she muttered.
"Good," Lucien said with a grin. "Trust is for fools."
They reached a balcony that overlooked the Crimson District. Neon signs hummed beneath gothic towers, modern and ancient clashing in eerie harmony.
"What happens next?" she asked.
Lucien looked up at the moon. "War. Maybe love. Depends on who you become first."