Elissa was left alone in the dark. She looked down at her hands—the hands that couldn't light a candle—and felt a terrifying, hollow ache. She was being traded like a piece of silk to a monster in the dark.
She didn't know then that the "monster" was the only one who would ever truly see her. She didn't know that the tiny spark she had produced today wasn't a failure of magic, but the first sign of a power so ancient it had no name.
But for now, all she felt was the cold. And the terrifying realization that her life, as a girl who belonged to herself, was over.
The carriage ride toward the border was a slow, agonizing descent into silence. Behind them lay the shimmering quartz spires of Luminalis, gold fading into a hazy memory. Ahead, the sky turned the color of a fresh bruise—a deep, swirling violet that marked the beginning of the Shadow Realm.
Elissa sat huddled in the corner of the velvet-lined carriage, her knees pulled to her chest. Every jolt of the wheels felt like a heartbeat thudding against the floorboards. Across from her, Kaelen sat with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the window. Every few minutes, his fingers would twitch, and a small puff of orange smoke would curl from his knuckles—a nervous habit he only displayed when he was ready to kill.
"Stop doing that, Kael," Lyra whispered from beside Elissa. She reached out and took Elissa's cold hand, rubbing it between her own. "You're scaring her more than the vampires are."
"The vampires should be the ones scared," Kaelen growled, finally looking at Elissa. His expression softened, the hard lines of his jaw relaxing just a fraction. "El, look at me."
Elissa lifted her head, her pale hair falling over her shoulders like frayed silk. I look like a ghost already, she thought bitterly. A ghost being delivered to a graveyard.
"I'm not going to let them keep you if he's a monster," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to a low, fierce register. "Treaty or no. If Prince Alistair treats you as anything less than a queen, I will burn that obsidian castle of theirs to the ground and bring you home. Do you hear me?"
"And start a war?" Elissa's voice was barely a thread. "Father would never forgive you. Mother would probably thank the vampires for the excuse to finish me off."
"Father is a fool who measures worth in fireballs and lightning strikes," Kaelen spat. He leaned forward, his intensity radiating heat. "You have a heart, Elissa. In a family of weapons, you're the only person who actually lives. That's why I'm here. That's why Lyra is here."
Elissa looked down at their joined hands. A heart doesn't stop the Hollowed, she thought. A heart doesn't make me a Princess worth keeping. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. Kaelen was the heir; he was the sun of their kingdom. And here he was, risking his standing for the "weakest" sibling.
The carriage ground to a halt. The air inside the cabin suddenly turned frigid, the breath escaping their lips in silver plumes.
"We're here," Lyra whispered, her face turning pale.
The door was opened by a guard, and the trio stepped out onto the Iron Bridge. It was a massive structure of black metal spanning a chasm so deep the bottom was lost in a sea of rolling white mist. On the southern side stood the Witch Guard, resplendent in gold and crimson.
On the northern side, there was only darkness. Then, the shadows moved.
A group of figures emerged from the mist with a synchronicity that was unsettling. They didn't walk so much as glide, their movements liquid and silent. At their head was a man who seemed to swallow the light around him.
Prince Alistair D'Valtheron.
Elissa felt the air leave her lungs. The stories hadn't prepared her. He was tall—impossibly so—with a build that suggested the lean strength of a panther rather than the bulk of a soldier. His hair was black as a raven's wing, swept back from a face that was terrifyingly beautiful. High, sharp cheekbones, a straight, noble nose, and lips that looked like they were carved from marble.
But it was his eyes that froze her blood. They were a crystalline, piercing blue—the color of a glacier reflecting the sun. As he stepped onto the center of the bridge, his gaze bypassed the armed guards and the two powerful siblings. He locked onto Elissa.
The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them. Elissa felt a strange, humming vibration in the soles of her feet. It wasn't fear—well, it wasn't just fear. It was an electric pull, a tether snapping into place that made her skin itch and her heart race.
"The House of Aethelgard," Pureblooded Vampire said. His voice was a rich, dark velvet, a seductive baritone that seemed to vibrate through the very metal of the bridge. He didn't bow. He simply stood there, an apex predator waiting for his prize.
Kaelen stepped forward, his hand resting pointedly on the hilt of his sword. "Prince Alistair D'Valtheron. I am Kaelen Starwind, Crown Prince of the South. I believe you have a contract to finalize."
Alistair finally shifted his gaze to Kaelen. A slow, mocking smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "I have no interest in paper, Prince Kaelen Starwind. I am here for the girl."
He walked forward, ignoring the guards who shifted their spears. He stopped inches from Elissa. The scent of him hit her—cold mountain air, old parchment, and a dark, spicy musk that made her lightheaded.
Up close, he was even more intimidating. He was a god of the night, elegant and ruthless. He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face, her trembling hands, and finally, the pulse thrumming wildly in her throat.
"You are smaller than the reports suggested," he remarked.
Elissa felt a spark of her own—not of magic, but of pure, indignant frustration. She looked up, meeting his icy stare. "I apologize if my stature is an inconvenience to your kingdom, My Prince."
Alistair's eyebrows shot up. Beside him, two other vampires—his cousins, Dante and Vane—shared a look of amused surprise. Dante, the one with shorter, scarred features, chuckled lowly. "She has a tongue, Alistair. Perhaps she isn't as 'hollow' as they say."
Alistair didn't laugh. He reached out, his long, pale fingers moving with agonizing slowness toward Elissa's face. Kaelen moved to intervene, but Alistair's hand was faster. He caught Elissa's chin, his touch as cold as ice.
The moment his skin met hers, a jolt of pure energy surged through Elissa. It felt like a bolt of lightning had traveled from his fingertips, through her jaw, and settled deep in her chest. She gasped, her eyes widening.
Alistair's expression shifted. The cold, bored mask cracked, replaced by a flash of something dark and possessive. His thumb traced the line of her lower lip, a gesture that was shockingly intimate for a first meeting.
"You're shivering," he murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive, private growl. "Is it the cold, Princess? Or are you realizing that you now belong to a man who doesn't believe in 'weakness'?"
"I belong to no one," Elissa whispered, though her body betrayed her by leaning into his cool touch.