After the dance, everything changed.
The castle no longer felt the same — the air itself carried a strange heaviness, as if something unseen was shifting between light and shadow. Bellatrix couldn't understand what was happening to her. Every time she saw Magnus, her heart stirred in a way she hadn't felt for centuries. His presence — his gaze, his voice, even his silence — all reminded her of someone she had once loved.
But that was impossible. That man was long gone… wasn't he?
While Bellatrix struggled with confusion, Mephisto was drowning in worry. He could see his queen's mask cracking little by little, and it terrified him. The people of the kingdom began to gossip endlessly. Whispers filled the air — that the queen had fallen in love, that the mysterious man Magnus might soon become king. Some even dared to say that the two of them were destined lovers.
But Bellatrix paid no attention to rumors. Her mind was consumed with only one thought — who is Magnus really?
Determined to find answers, she sent one of her most trusted servants with a single command:
> "Find out everything about Magnus Veylor — his family, his past, where he came from, what he was before he arrived here. Leave no stone unturned."
While her servant left to uncover the truth, Magnus was trapped in his own storm of thoughts. He sat alone in his room, staring at the flickering candlelight, his heart conflicted.
> "Why do I feel this way about her?" he muttered to himself. "Is it pity? Is it because of her pain… or have I truly fallen for her? No… impossible. I can't love a vampire. I won't love her. If I want to find the truth, I must uncover her past."
But when he questioned the people of the kingdom, no one knew anything. It was as if Bellatrix's history had been erased from existence. Frustrated and desperate, Magnus made a reckless decision.
That evening, when Bellatrix went out for her usual walk across the kingdom, Magnus slipped quietly into her chambers. The scent of roses and iron filled the room. He searched through drawers, old letters, the fireplace — anything that could reveal even a single clue about her past. But there was nothing. Not a single trace. It was as if her life before the throne had been swallowed by shadows.
Disappointed, he turned to leave. That's when he heard it — a faint sound, a low hum, like a heartbeat coming from behind one of the castle walls.
He froze.
> "What was that?" he whispered. "Am I imagining things?"
The noise grew louder. A strange, dark aura seeped from the cracks between the stones. His curiosity overwhelmed his fear. He pressed his hand against the wall — cold, smooth, and unyielding. He pushed, kicked, even struck it with his sword, but nothing happened. Finally, out of frustration, he slammed his fist against the wall with all his strength.
This time, something shifted. The wall trembled — and a thin line of light appeared where his blood had splattered.
Magnus stared in shock.
> "Blood… it reacts to blood?"
Without hesitation, he drew his blade and sliced his palm open. Blood dripped down his hand as he pressed it to the wall. Slowly, the stones began to move, grinding against each other until a hidden doorway appeared before him.
The air inside was suffocatingly cold. He stepped into the darkness, the door sealing shut behind him. The further he walked, the heavier his chest felt — as though something ancient and powerful was watching him.
At the end of the room, he saw it — a massive, shadowed creature, bound by enormous black chains. Its body pulsed faintly with red veins of light, like fire trapped inside a stone.
Magnus felt his breath catch.
> "What… what is this thing?"
He had never seen such a creature before. Not in any hunter's tale, not in any forbidden text. Despite his fear, pity flickered in his eyes. He stepped closer, whispering,
> "Why would Bellatrix imprison something like you?"
He reached out and touched the creature's skin. Instantly, his vision exploded — a flood of memories that weren't his own.
He saw Bellatrix — smiling, kind, alive in a way he had never imagined her. She stood beside a man, tall and gentle, their hands intertwined as sunlight fell on them.
Then — chaos. People shouting. Blood. A battlefield. Bellatrix standing over the same man, screaming his name as flames devoured everything around them.
Magnus gasped and ripped his hand away, panting. His heart thundered in his chest.
> "What… what was that? A vision? A memory?"
Driven by instinct, he touched the creature again, and another flash came — brief, broken fragments of the same story. But before he could see more, footsteps echoed outside. Startled, Magnus pulled back and rushed out of the hidden chamber. The moment he stepped through, the wall sealed itself shut once more.
When he looked up, Bellatrix and Mephisto had just returned from their walk. Magnus's face was pale, sweat trickling down his neck. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes — her intuition whispering that something wasn't right.
> "You seem… troubled, Magnus," she said quietly.
"Just tired, your Majesty," he lied, bowing low.
Later, alone in his room, Magnus sat in silence, the vision haunting him.
> "Why was Bellatrix in those memories? Who was that man beside her? And who were those people fighting against them? None of this makes sense…"
He gripped his chest, feeling something ache deep within him — something old, something familiar.
> "No matter what it takes," he whispered, "I'll find out the truth."
But what Magnus didn't know… was that Bellatrix herself had no knowledge of that secret room. She didn't even know that creature existed.
And what Magnus saw — those weren't visions of Bellatrix's past.
They were his own memories.
The forgotten truth of a love that once defied the world — and ended in blood.