The storm hit at midnight.
Winds howled against the Blackwell Estate like wolves demanding entrance. The skies cracked open, purple lightning tearing through the dark like veins of fury.
Amara stood in the courtyard again—only this time, she was not here to take an oath.
She was here to break one.
She raised the journal of Adeline Blackwell above her head and shouted the words written in the margins in blood:
> "By the heir's will, by blood's betrayal, let the Vault's silence be shattered!"
The ground beneath her trembled.
Elders screamed from the mansion windows. Ward lines across the estate sparked and died.
Then… the Vault doors exploded outward.
A wave of heat, shadow, and raw magic burst from the depths. It flung Amara backward into the stone wall—but she rose again, face bleeding, eyes blazing.
Lucien appeared within the smoke, shirtless, hair wild, glowing with marks Amara had never seen before.
"You've broken the lock," he said. His voice was deeper. Older.
Amara faced him. "And I'll break more if I must. What are you?"
Lucien stepped forward. Not with menace… but with pain. "I am the one created to guard the Blackwell line. But I am no longer bound by it."
She lifted the journal. "Then help me end it."
He looked past her—to the Vault, now pulsing like a living heart.
"No," he said. "It's too late."
Suddenly, a scream echoed from deep within the Vault. A second presence was rising.
The Destroyer… was waking.
Lucien's eyes glowed red.
Amara tightened her grip on the journal and whispered, "Then we fight fire with blood."