Valois Manor had been unnaturally quiet for days.
No whispers from the walls. No strange dreams. No more dead vultures under vanities.
Luca had assured Emilia that the bird incident was probably just a cruel prank. Something to scare her. He'd promised to handle it, to keep her safe. But even though the halls of the manor were still and calm, her mind wasn't.
There was always a low buzz under her skin now. Like a quiet hum of energy that never went away. Her senses were sharper—too sharp. She could hear footsteps on gravel even when the windows were closed. She could smell rain before the clouds even formed. A few nights ago, the curtains in her room had moved, not with wind—but with her breath.
The power was growing. She could feel it like it was learning her body and becoming more confident. But with it came fear.
And questions.
She found Cyrus in the east wing library, alone as usual, sitting in a deep armchair by the fire with a crystal glass in hand. The liquid inside was thick and dark red. It looked nothing like wine.
Emilia crossed her arms as she stepped closer. "What are you drinking?"
Cyrus didn't look up immediately. He took a long, slow sip and sighed, as if enjoying something rich.
"Aged to perfection," he said at last, raising the glass slightly. "Pigeon wine. Freshly drained."
Her stomach twisted slightly. "That's blood?"
"Yes," he said casually, giving her a sideways glance. "Would you like a glass? I've got another."
She frowned. "Why pigeon?"
"It's light. Mellow. Better in the mornings, really. But I was feeling nostalgic." He studied her expression with a smile. "You humans always wrinkle your noses. I've never understood that."
"I'm not human anymore."
His eyes gleamed. "Exactly why I offered."
She took a sip of the glass and savoured the taste.
"You know about the dream. The vultures. The bats."
"Yes."
She waited. "And?"
"And dreams in this house are rarely just dreams," he said, setting his glass down. "Especially not when vultures are involved."
"Speak clearly, Cyrus."
"Fine." He leaned forward. "Vultures are symbols of old power. Unstable, rotting power. When they show up in someone's dream, it usually means something ancient is awakening or watching. Sometimes both."
She went cold. "So I'm being watched?"
"Not just watched. Tested."
"By who?"
"You'll have to ask your beloved for that answer."
She hated the way he said it—"your beloved." Always laced with a hint of sarcasm.
"Why are you telling me this and not Luca?"
He raised a brow. "Maybe because I'm more honest. Maybe because I don't have anything to lose."
That didn't help her trust him. Not one bit.
Later that evening, she finally snapped. She couldn't keep pretending she wasn't angry.
Luca had just returned from one of his "meetings." His jacket was off, his black shirt slightly open. He looked perfect and she hated how that made her pause.
"We need to talk," she said sharply.
He looked up from where he was untying his boots. "About?"
"The dream. The dead vulture. Why Cyrus knows more about what's happening to me than you do."
He stood slowly. "Emilia—"
"Don't Emilia me. You've been keeping things from me. And I'm done playing the helpless little girl."
Energy sparked at her fingertips. The mirror on the wall cracked just slightly.
Luca's eyes darkened. "You're losing control."
"Because I'm tired of being lied to!"
"I never lied. I only tried to protect you."
"By keeping secrets? By letting Cyrus explain the vultures while you hide behind perfect words and promises?"
He moved closer. "You don't understand what Calista is capable of."
She stilled. "Calista?"
He nodded. "My aunt. The one we don't talk about. She was expelled from this family over a century ago. And she wasn't happy about it."
"So you think the vulture was from her? A threat?"
"I know it was."
She clenched her fists. The power flared again, her anger barely held back. But Luca reached out, gently taking her wrists in his hands.
"Breathe," he whispered. "Let me help you."
Her magic slowed, tamed by his calm.
"She's trying to scare you. Because she knows you're becoming something powerful. Something she can't control."
Emilia's voice trembled. "Why me?"
"Because you're bonded to me. And because you're special. She's trying to get to both of us and it's clearly working".
She stared into his eyes, still unsure, but slowly softening. He cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers.
"I will protect you," he said. "At all cost. Even from her."
She didn't want to forgive him that easily. But she melted into his arms anyway.
The next morning, Emilia sat in the garden courtyard with Aunt Viv.
The older woman was feeding tiny black bats from her open palm. They chirped and fluttered, completely unafraid.
"They like you," Vivienne said.
Emilia giggled as one of the bats landed on her shoulder. "I had a dream about bats. They were protecting me."
"They are. They're connected to you now."
"Because I'm... what, a vampire now?"
"Because you're our Luna."
Emilia blinked. "What does that mean?"
"Queen of the night. They see you. They feel your bond to this place. To Luca."
The bats swirled above them, graceful in their movement.
"I've taught them to respond to your energy," Vivienne said. "They'll help you with small things. You'll see."
Emilia smiled as one perched on her arm. "I love them."
"Oh darling Em. They love you even more." She chuckled
That night, Luca and Cyrus walked together through the graveyard behind Valois Manor. The moon hung heavy and pale.
Cyrus lit a cigarette. "You know she's watching."
Luca nodded. "She always was."
"How long before she makes her move?"
"Not long. That vulture was a warning."
Cyrus exhaled smoke. "She's bolder than before. And smarter. She won't come at you directly."
"She'll come for Emilia."
"Exactly. And Emilia isn't ready."
Luca stopped walking. "Then we find Calista. Before she finds her."
The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves around the old tombstones.
Cyrus looked out across the graves. "I wonder how many of us she's already turned."
Luca didn't answer.
Because he already feared the worst.