---
The girl stirred at dawn.
Virella sat beside her, head resting against the old stone wall of their hideout, one hand loosely gripping the hilt of her dagger. She'd slept little. Dreams haunted her—of vaults, burning forests, and blood seeping from stone.
When the girl's eyes opened, red and glowing faintly, Virella was already awake.
"It's okay," she whispered. "You're safe."
The girl flinched, trying to sit up. Her limbs were weak, starved of movement and blood. She was terrified—but not of them.
"He's coming," she said.
Virella leaned closer. "Who? Varen?"
The girl shook her head. "No. The others. The ones he woke before me."
---
Elsewhere—miles away and hidden deep beneath the jagged cliffs of a mountain range—Varen stood in the center of a stone chamber lit by hundreds of black candles. He wore no cloak, no armor. Just a simple tunic of faded gray, stained with earth and blood.
Around him, six figures kneeled in a circle, their eyes closed, their bodies still.
Vault sleepers.
Each one was ancient—older than Varen himself. Vampires preserved through time, some turned by the first progenitors, others made in secret and sealed away. Their blood had aged like wine, thick with power.
Above them, carved into the stone ceiling, was the sigil of the First Blood Pact—the one Varen's mother had tried to destroy.
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the ceremonial blade. Its handle was wrapped in werewolf leather. The blade itself, forged in fire and quenched in vampire hearts, gleamed under the flickering light.
"You are the last," Varen whispered, pressing the tip to his palm. "The last ones who remember when this world feared us."
His blood dripped onto the stone.
"Rise."
---
The girl's name was Isolde.
Or at least that's what she remembered being called, once. She had no memory of her family, no memories of the world before her capsule. Only flashes—firelight, silver chains, a name whispered in darkness.
"Varen saved me," she said, her voice hoarse. "But he used me, too."
"You're not the first," Rian said. "We think there are more like you. Sealed. Hidden."
Isolde's eyes narrowed. "There are five more. I saw them in the dreaming realm."
"Where?" Alaric asked.
"I don't know exactly," she said. "But they're waking soon. And some of them… they don't want to be free."
Virella's stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean some of them chose to be sealed. Because they knew what they were becoming."
---
In the mountain chamber, the six vault sleepers opened their eyes.
All of them were changed.
Their faces bore scars of centuries. Some had hollow eyes, others strange patterns on their skin—ancient sigils once used to contain madness or power.
But all of them bowed to Varen.
One by one, they pledged allegiance—not to a crown or a council—but to the Blood-Born Empire Varen had promised to raise.
"Where is the Alpha's son?" one of them rasped. "The traitor."
"You mean Alaric?" Varen said, smiling coldly. "He'll come to us in time."
Another of the sleepers, taller than the others and covered in silver-thread tattoos, narrowed her eyes. "And the girl?"
"Virella," Varen said. "She's part of this story too. She always was."
A pause.
"You still care for her."
Varen didn't answer.
---
Callum and Alaric argued in the hallway just beyond Isolde's room. The tension between them had grown since the vault discovery.
"You think I'm just going to let her run into danger again?" Callum snapped. "She almost died last time!"
"She's not helpless," Alaric said, voice sharp. "And she's not yours to protect."
Callum stepped forward. "No, but at least I don't lie to her!"
Alaric's eyes flickered. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You said you came back for revenge. For your mother. But you're using her. Same as Varen did."
The words hit hard. Alaric's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he walked away, leaving Callum staring after him.
Virella had heard it all.
She stepped out of the shadows.
"Callum."
He turned, startled. "I didn't mean—"
"I know," she said gently. "But you're wrong about him. And about me."
He looked at her, eyes softer now. "You still love him, don't you?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she asked, "Do you remember the ruins beneath Elaris?"
He blinked. "Yeah. Why?"
"Because I saw something in one of the vault murals. A prophecy. One that mentioned my bloodline."
Callum's eyes widened. "What did it say?"
"That the child of blood and shadow would choose the path between light and ruin."
---
Back at the mountain stronghold, Varen stood alone now.
The others were preparing for war—training, testing their new strength, summoning creatures bound by old pacts.
He stared at the mountains beyond, lost in thought.
A soft voice interrupted him. "You're trembling."
It was his sister—Maelis. Once lost to time, now returned by dark magic. She had been one of the sealed sleepers. And she hadn't aged a day.
"I saw her," she said. "The girl. She carries your mark, whether she knows it or not."
"She made her choice," Varen said.
"And yet, you still watch her."
Varen didn't respond. Instead, he walked toward the great forge at the heart of the cavern.
He touched the hilt of the weapon being reforged there.
A blade that had once belonged to his mother. The same one that killed the Council Alpha.
"She will come," he said. "And when she does, she'll have to choose. Me—or the world."
---
That night, Rian brought them a map.
"I traced Isolde's memories," he said. "Three vault locations. One near the marshes of Serinhold, one hidden beneath the old ruins of Arvale, and another… possibly in the Sunken Cathedral."
"Too far to hit at once," Callum said.
"Then we split up," Virella said.
Alaric nodded. "You take Serinhold with Isolde. I'll check Arvale. Callum goes to the Cathedral."
Rian raised a brow. "That place is dangerous."
"Then I'll bring friends," Callum said. "I'm not scared."
---
As they prepared to leave the next morning, Virella stood by the doorway of her room, watching Alaric ready his gear.
"I'm coming back," he said.
"I know."
He looked at her, his voice softer now. "I never lied about how I feel. Not once."
"I believe you."
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "When this is over—if we're still standing—"
"Then we'll talk," she whispered. "About us."
And for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
Then the moment passed.
And the war continued.
---