The carriage rolled to a slow halt before the towering gates of Veylan Palace. Shadows danced across its obsidian walls, and cold mist hugged the ground like an omen. Serenya stepped down, her cloak catching the wind, her boots touching the cursed soil of the demon-vampire court for the first time.
Before she could take a proper look around, a guard approached. Tall, armored in black and silver, his voice was sharp but respectful.
"Are you Miss Serenya, the witch?"
"I am," she replied, straightening.
"The king requests your presence immediately."
So soon?
She followed him through long, echoing halls where chandeliers flickered like souls trapped in crystal. She passed other guards, servants who whispered but didn't dare look up. Veylan Palace pulsed with something old… and watching.
Inside the throne room, the King of Veylan sat tall, eyes shadowed beneath a crown of dark iron. He studied her in silence, then finally spoke.
"You are the witch sent to train my son, Prince Vraevyn, yes?"
Serenya nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The King leaned forward. "You are to help him control the powers awakening in him. That is your purpose. But mark this—he is dangerous. His blood is not just cursed… it is volatile. You are not here to befriend him. You are here to serve a purpose. Do it well, and cause no trouble."
Her heart pounded, but she bowed with practiced grace. "Understood, Your Majesty."
As she turned to leave, the air behind her thickened. She paused.
Someone… was watching her.
She felt it, unseen but undeniable—eyes like flame brushing across her spine.
The king's voice broke through her thoughts. "You may rest in your chambers for tonight. Training begins tomorrow."
…She nodded, letting the guards escort her out.
But as the heavy doors shut behind her, she couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was already waiting.
Watching.
Waiting.
Her chamber was dim, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight bleeding through tall windows. Velvet curtains, black and deep red, swayed gently in the breeze. The silence was thick, like the room itself was holding its breath.
Serenya sat on the edge of the bed, finally alone.
She was here.
In the demon-vampire court.
To seduce, deceive, and steal from a prince who could kill her without lifting a finger.
Her fingers traced the ring Selene had given her, then moved slowly to her waist. She whispered a soft incantation under her breath, and the hidden tattoo there shimmered. Smoke curled upward as the blade took form—dark, curved, and ancient.
The dagger.
The one meant to drain the power of the prince when the moment came.
She stared at it in silence. It felt heavier now.
Like a lie.
But she couldn't afford doubt.
Not now.
Not when the game had already begun.
She let the dagger fade back into her skin, exhaled slowly, and lay back on the bed.
Tomorrow, she would meet him.
Prince Vraevyn.
The one everyone feared.
And the one she was meant to destroy.