As the night swallowed Hillenwood whole, a deeper darkness stirred just beyond the edge of town. Past the meadows and the old cemetery, deep within the spine of the forest—where even animals feared to tread—stood a mansion forgotten by time.
Hillenwood Mansion.
No roads led to it. No map marked its place. It was hidden by trees that grew too tall, too tight, and leaves that never rustled. The mansion rose from the earth like a tomb carved from night itself. Enormous, jagged at the edges, with towers like broken fangs clawing at the moonless sky. The air around it stood still, thick and unmoving. Even the wind dared not blow there.
From the outside, it looked abandoned. Cold. Lifeless.
But behind one cracked, upper window—half-covered by a heavy black curtain—a faint flicker of firelight pulsed like a dying heartbeat.
Inside the mansion, the great hall sat in near darkness. Dust clung to every inch of the old stone walls. The ceiling above stretched impossibly high, vanishing into shadows. Torn tapestries lined the sides—depicting battles long forgotten, strange symbols stitched in faded crimson thread.
And before the fireplace, where the flames danced in a hypnotic rhythm, stood Julien.
He was still, silent. Like a statue carved from shadow. The firelight kissed his pale skin, casting long shapes across the marble floor. The reflection of the flames shimmered in his reddish-brown eyes, giving the illusion that they were lit from within.
He said nothing.
He only stared.
The fire cracked, breaking the silence like a whip. Its glow made the darkness in the room even deeper.
Not far from him, draped across a carved throne of black wood, sat her.
The woman.
She was not old—but not young either. Ageless. Beautiful in a way that made the bones ache. Her hair was like flowing ink, thick and straight, spilling over one shoulder like liquid silk. Her skin was porcelain pale, unnervingly smooth, and her lips—painted a blood-red hue—curved into something that could barely be called a smile.
Her fingers were long. Too long. With black nails as sharp as glass, tapping lightly against the armrest of her chair.
She looked at Julien with eyes that burned.
Not brown. Not red. But blood.
"Did you find the girl?" she asked, her voice soft as velvet—yet soaked in venom.
Julien didn't flinch. "Yes."
Silence.
"Then why," she said sweetly, "isn't she here?"
The sweetness vanished.
Her fist slammed down on the throne's armrest, and the wood cracked. The sound echoed through the cold chamber like the breaking of a bone.
Julien didn't even blink.
"I'm waiting for the right moment," he said. Calm. Controlled. His gaze never left the fire.
She hissed through her teeth. "Right moment? How human of you."
He said nothing.
"You've had weeks. We've watched her, tracked her. We've waited. And yet you play your little patience games."
Julien's voice remained even. "If we act too soon, it will backfire. She's not… ready."
The woman's lips curled. "We don't need her to be ready. We need her alive. And in our hands. We need the permax alive."
He turned his head slightly, finally meeting her gaze. "If you try to take her by force, she'll break.They made her unstable for a reason."
She narrowed her eyes.
He went on. "They built her like a weapon they couldn't control. If she wakes up too fast, she'll turn to ash before she's ever of use. And take half the town with her."
The flames cracked behind him. His voice was like stone against steel. "I've never failed. So let me do it my way."
The woman sat back, her nails coiling once more around a lock of her hair. For a long moment, she said nothing. Only stared.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"Don't fail us, Julien. We are not like them. We do not forget. And we do not forgive."
Julien turned back to the fire. "I haven't forgotten," he said quietly.
The woman's face darkened. "Those stupid scientists," she spat the word, "thought they won when they released that toxin into the air. When they destroyed the our forces. When they scattered the children and sealed the facility."
She leaned forward. "They thought they were gods, playing with flesh and blood and bone. Thought they could twist what was already immortal."
Julien didn't respond.
Her voice shifted, dripping with hatred. "But they'll see. Soon. When we finish what they started. When their pretty little creation falls to her knees and begs us to silence the scream they built inside her."
Julien was quiet . The fire danced in his eyes. Sparks crackled, echoing against the stone.
He could feel the others, restless in the upper floors, slinking through the hallways of the old mansion like ghosts. Waiting. Watching. Hungry.
They wanted the girl. Wanted her power. Her blood. What lay buried inside her—the thing the scientists barely understood. The thing Julien knew all too well.
But it wasn't time.
Not yet.
Julien closed his eyes briefly.
And in the darkness behind them, he saw her face.
Terrified. Confused. Shining with something that could still be innocence… or a threat.
He opened his eyes again and the fire burned on