Chapter 1: The Weight of Cold Ashes
The winter snow had started to pour down, falling faster than ever against the icy glass of the car window. Every flake felt like another layer of the life I was leaving behind, burying the person I used to be under a thick, white shroud. I pressed my forehead against the glass, the chill seeping into my skin. As a vampire, I was already cold, but this—this was a different kind of freezing. It was the kind that started in my soul.
Slam. The sound of the car door shutting felt final, like the lid of a casket closing. My father climbed back into the driver's seat, bringing a gust of arctic air with him. I watched him through the corner of my eye. He looked older than he had a month ago. The lines around his eyes were deeper, and his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the steering wheel.
I am now eighteen years old ,sitting in the back seat of the car with full of resentment,I looked at father and asked. "Do we actually have to leave? We're Dracs. We belong in the High City, not some freezing village in the middle of nowhere."
"We have to," father replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "The Council made sure of that. They didn't just take our home, Drayan. They took our names."
I scoffed. "If you hadn't let them trap you, we'd still be in the Citadel. You're a Lord of the High City, and you let a common trustee run away with our entire legacy? I don't believe it. We're vampires, not sheep."
father turned to me, his voice cold and bitter, a flash of his old power appearing in his eyes. "You think this was about money? It was a coup, son. The man I trusted was a puppet for the High Council. They wanted us buried in debt so they could strip our voting rights. They left us with nothing because they want you to realize that without the City, you are nobody. They want you to crawl back and offer yourself up as their 'Key' just to have your bed back."
my jaw tightened. The muscles in my shoulders tensed under the thin jacket. "I'd rather rot in the woods than give them what they want."
"Well," father sighed, turning back to the wheel, "the woods are exactly where we're going. Redpaveley is the only place their jurisdiction doesn't reach. It's the only place you can just be a boy, and not a weapon."
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." I leaned my head against the cold glass, staring at the falling snow. I was a Prince of the High City, reduced to a passenger in a dying car, heading toward a life I never asked for.
I didn't know this trip was going to change my whole life.
I reached into my pocket and felt the cool metal of a small locket. It was the only thing I had left of my mother. Since she passed away, the world had lost its color. I didn't have friends back in the city—not real ones. I was always the "quiet kid," the one who stayed in the shadows because I was afraid that if I let anyone in, they'd see the monster inside, or worse, they'd see the hole my mother left behind. I was lonely, but I told myself I preferred it that way. If you don't care about anyone, they can't leave you.
I watched the trees blur past—skeletal oaks and pines heavy with snow. We were moving away from the neon lights and the constant hum of the city into a silence that felt deafening. I didn't know then that this trip was going to change everything.
The car finally rolled to a stop at the entrance of a place called Redpaveley. While my father hopped out to talk to the guards, I stayed behind the glass, watching a world I had only ever heard about in stories. This wasn't the dark, scary woods of a horror novel. It looked like a normal town, but the energy was different. I saw a girl walking a dog that looked a bit too much like a wolf; I saw a man lighting a streetlamp with a snap of his fingers. Vampires, witches, and were-kin all walking the streets together. No wars. No hate. Just... life.
That's when I saw her.
She looked about my age, wearing a thick, oversized coat that seemed far too light for the freezing air. She had short hair and glasses that kept fogging up in the cold. She was helping an old lady carry a crate of apples toward a small storefront. As they stepped off the curb, a bright red apple slipped out, rolling across the icy road toward our car.
She moved with a sudden, beautiful speed—a blur of motion that was too fast for a human. She caught the apple inches before it hit the slush, her movements fluid and graceful. She laughed, a sound that cut through the silence of the car, and handed it back with a smile that felt warmer than the heater blowing in my face.
My heart skipped a beat—a physical ache I hadn't felt in years. I was a vampire who had just lost everything, a guy who lived behind an invisible wall because I was sure I was unlovable. But looking at her, I felt a crack in my armor.
I didn't know she was a werewolf yet. I didn't know our kinds were supposed to be rivals. I just knew I was in trouble. I couldn't look away, and for a moment, the debt, the city, and the cold mother-shaped hole in my heart didn't feel so heavy.