Chapter 7: Whispers Beneath the Moon
The next morning, Elara woke to the sound of ravens screaming in the sky.
She sat up in the wolf camp, clutching her shoulder. The mark still stung from the dream—thin lines of dried blood crusted over the ink-like sigil, pulsing faintly beneath her skin.
Kael was gone.
Only a single flower lay beside her bedroll—a silver nightbloom, sacred to the wolves. A symbol of protection… and distance.
Shadows in the City
Back within the walls of the Veiled City, unrest spread like wildfire.
A vampire had been murdered in the Neutral District—his body drained dry, heart ripped from his chest. The scent of wolf lingered in the air.
Tensions flared. Witches whispered of omens. Hunters polished their silver stakes.
Elara returned under Lucien's watch, the vampire prince more guarded than ever.
"You saw them, didn't you?" he asked.
"I did. And they're not the monsters you make them out to be."
"Then you're more naïve than I thought."
Lucien moved closer, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.
"You have no idea how quickly loyalties shift when blood is on the streets."
A Witch's Warning
Lady Syra, high priestess of the Crimson Circle, summoned Elara to her tower. The witch's eyes glowed behind a veil of firelight and incense.
"You are the pivot," she said, circling Elara. "Your soul sings with three bloodlines—witch, wolf, and fang."
"I never asked for this."
"None of us did," Syra replied. "Yet here you are, chosen by the very Veil we once sealed."
Elara flinched. "What's behind the Veil?"
Syra's smile was bitter. "Not what. Who."
The Ball of Houses
To mask the brewing chaos, the humans hosted a grand masquerade—The Ball of Houses—uniting noble bloodlines of all five factions.
Elara stood at the top of the stairs in a crimson gown, her mask adorned with symbols of all three heritages.
The music drowned the whispers, but she felt them.
Half the room feared her. The other half wanted to use her.
Kael arrived in a sharp suit, raw and elegant. Lucien was already there, a glass of bloodwine in hand.
The triangle tightened.
"You came," Elara whispered.
"I never left," Kael said.
Lucien cut in. "He doesn't belong here."
"I don't belong anywhere," Elara replied. "Not yet."
Fire in the Garden
But just as the ball reached its peak, the skies opened. Screams echoed from the outer courtyards.
Flames roared across the gardens—green fire. Witchfire.
A message scorched into the stone: "The Pact is Broken."
And from the smoke… a figure in silver armor stepped forward, eyes glowing with golden fury.
A vampire hunter.
"Bring me the girl," he called. "Or I'll burn this city to ash."