The ruins loomed before them like the ribs of a long-dead god.
Blackened stone towers rose from the earth like broken fingers clawing at the sky. Vines wrapped around shattered archways, blooming with flowers that pulsed faintly red in the dim light. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay—like blood left too long in the sun.
Seraphine stepped forward slowly, her breath shallow.
Kael walked beside her, his hand never straying far from his sword.
Behind them, Lady Nyxara studied the crumbling walls, her pale eyes scanning the inscriptions carved into the stone.
"This place…" she murmured. "It's older than Necrosia."
Seraphine swallowed hard. "What is it?"
Nyxara exhaled slowly. "The ruins of the First City."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Kael frowned. "I thought that was just a myth."
Nyxara shook her head. "No. It was real. And this… this is where it all began."
She pointed toward the center of the ruins, where a great pit yawned open like a wound in the earth.
"That's where we'll find it," she said softly. "The Heart of the First Vampire."
***
They descended into the darkness.
Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting jagged shadows that danced like ghosts. The deeper they went, the colder the air became—until their breath misted visibly in front of them.
Seraphine pressed a hand to her belly.
Inside her, Aeloria stirred.
"I remember this place."
"It smells like home."
Seraphine shivered.
"Don't listen to her," Kael warned, walking close behind her.
"I don't have a choice," she whispered.
They reached a vast chamber lined with skeletal remains—some human, some not. At its center stood an altar made of black stone, cracked down the middle. Resting within the fissure was a single object, pulsing faintly with crimson light.
The Heart.
It looked nothing like Seraphine had imagined.
Not flesh. Not organ. It was more like a gemstone forged from liquid fire, encased in bone and bound by silver chains.
Nyxara approached cautiously, kneeling before the altar.
"It's still alive," she murmured. "After all these centuries…"
Seraphine stepped forward.
The moment she did, the Heart flared brighter.
And Aeloria screamed.
"DON'T TOUCH IT!"
Seraphine staggered back, clutching her stomach.
Kael drew his sword instantly. "What's happening?"
Seraphine gasped for breath. "She knows what it is."
Nyxara turned to her sharply. "Then tell me. What is it?"
Seraphine closed her eyes.
And the answer came—not from her mind, but from something deeper.
"The first vampire was not born," Aeloria whispered.
"He was summoned."
"From the void between life and death."
"And the Heart is his prison."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Nyxara whispered, "Gods above…"
Seraphine opened her eyes.
"He wasn't the first," she said softly. "He was the first mistake ."
***
Later that night, they sat around a small fire near the edge of the ruins.
The Heart remained untouched—for now.
Kael watched Seraphine carefully.
"You're paler than usual," he noted.
She gave a weak smile. "I've been better."
He hesitated. "Do you think using the Heart could stop her?"
Seraphine looked down at her belly.
"Try," Aeloria whispered.
"And I will show you what true hunger looks like."
Seraphine shuddered.
"I don't know if it can stop her," she admitted. "But I do know one thing."
"What?"
She met his gaze.
"If I use it, I might become something worse."
Kael frowned. "Worse than this?"
Seraphine nodded slowly.
"There are things even your nightmares won't let you imagine."
Kael sat in silence for a long moment.
Then he placed a hand over hers.
"We'll find another way."
Seraphine squeezed his fingers gently.
"I hope so."
***
That night, Seraphine dreamed again.
This time, she was inside the Heart.
Or rather, she was inside someone who had once touched it.
She saw visions—flashes of ancient history burned into her mind.
A man kneeling before a dark altar.
His hands stained with blood.
A voice whispering in his ear.
"You want power?"
"Then take it."
"Take it from the womb of the world itself."
The man screamed.
His body twisted.
His veins glowed red.
And then—
Darkness.
When he emerged, he was no longer human.
No longer mortal.
He was something new.
Something hungry.
"He called us into being," Aeloria whispered.
"And now, you carry his daughter."
Seraphine woke screaming.
***
By morning, the wind had changed.
It carried a different scent now—smoke, ash, and distant screams.
Kael stood watch outside their camp, his posture tense.
"We're not alone," he muttered.
Nyxara stepped beside him, frowning. "How many?"
Kael narrowed his eyes toward the horizon.
"A lot."
Seraphine emerged from the tent, her face pale but determined.
"They found us," she said quietly.
Nyxara turned to her. "The Crimson Council?"
Seraphine nodded.
"They want the Heart," Aeloria whispered.
"And they want me."
Kael gripped his sword.
"Then we make our stand here."
Seraphine looked toward the ruins.
Toward the Heart.
"We don't have much time," Aeloria said softly.
"Soon, I'll be ready."
Seraphine closed her eyes.
And for the first time…
She prayed.
Not for salvation.
But for strength.
Because whatever came next would decide everything.
Her fate.
Her daughter's.
And the future of the world.