Author note- (CH 0 updated! Do read it, but it contains spoilers! careful!)
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We stepped out of the line and finally met them.
Mom's face lit up the moment she saw that little devil and, without a second thought, went in for a hug.
Bianca, of course, wasted no time shooting me a smug look behind Mom's back.
Then she sauntered over, hand stretched out like she owned the world. "How are you doing, cousin? Miss me?"
I took her hand and pressed it slightly.
Sirens might be powerful outcasts, but out of water? Their strength was mostly ceremonial. They were only slightly stronger than humans.
And me, who had shapeshifter blood, overpowering someone like Bianca was embarrassingly easy.
I recalled the first time I had met her... It was a family gathering, the marriage of one of mom's cousins, one of the few family members who actually got along with her. The children were kept separate, playing and laughing, completely unaware of the political chaos swirling above them.
I was five then, just like Bianca. But Bianca had already sung and was new to her songs.
She had already begun being groomed as a prodigy to take mom's place, carrying the full weight of the clan's expectations on her small shoulders. The pressure combined with the over and over reminder of mom's "betrayal" had forged her early hatred for my family.
I, on the other hand, didn't hate her. From what I remember from the series Bianca wasn't inherently evil. She was a teenager trying to hold onto her queen bee status, and didn't want to lose to Wednesday. But I hadn't accounted for her personal vendetta against me.
One prank- one stupid prank- had turned into a disaster. I'd underestimated the power of a siren song. When I came to, I was… naked. Stark naked. Right in the middle of the banquet.
That moment cemented a deep, simmering hatred in me for Bianca and the cousins alike.
I pressed my hand a little harder against hers. Bianca yelped and recoiled, scowling at me. "You!"
And I couldn't help but grin, "yeah... I missed you. Dearest cousin."
Bianca's eyes dripped with that all-too-familiar hatred. She wanted to sing. But… Mom was here. Right there. And she wasn't about to risk performing a little act of revenge in front of her.
Gritting her teeth, she forced a smirk. "Come on. The family's waiting," she said, sliding gracefully into a Rolls-Royce-type car.
Mom smiled at me and gently took my hand as we followed her inside.
*
Sarenya and Valen stepped out of the car, and in front of them loomed a massive skyscraper. Beyond it, the beach stretched lazily under the sun. The whole place had the unmistakable vibe of a luxury resort.
Little Bianca puffed out her chest, clearly trying to radiate authority. "We booked this entire building, and a few surrounding ones, for the festival. The important guests and our family are all staying here."
"Oh," Valen said, giving a polite nod. No real surprise in his tone.
To him, it made sense. Siren powers plus a lot of money meant you could practically own whatever you wanted. And being the son of a famous singer, he'd already been to countless opulent estates and high-profile concerts hosted by his mother. This kind of luxury barely registered as impressive anymore.
Bianca, however, scowled. That was not the reaction she'd been expecting. She had clearly hoped for more awe, more admiration.
Sarenya, meanwhile, felt a pang of sadness. Not a single member of her family had come out to greet her. She hadn't really expected them to, but a small, foolish part of her had held onto hope.
Just then, a few figures emerged from the lobby, breaking the tense silence.
Sarenya recognized the people stepping out- her cousins. She opened her mouth to say hello, but they ignored her, sliding past to where a sleek limousine stopped.
A man and a woman stepped out of the limo, all sharp suits and couture, sunglasses hiding their faces. A cluster of attendants hovered around them like shadows. The way people bowed and whispered made it obvious: these two were from a major house.
"Welcome, Mr. Sanguis. You grace us," one of the greeters intoned.
The man and woman nodded as they descended. A servant unfurled a large umbrella over them like a royal canopy. They moved through the lobby with the effortless arrogance of power; the woman glanced towards them and gave Sarenya and Valen a faint, measured smile as she passed.
"That's Vincent and Selene Sanguis," Sarenya murmured when she saw the questioning look on Valen's face.
Valen's mind clicked through the map of prominent families. 'Ah...the vampire family from Romania'.
The Sanguis were infamous: wealthy, politically ruthless, and the kind of clan whose favors came with ledger-like terms.
A Barclay cousin glanced in their direction as well and called, "Oh, Sarenya, you're here," then drifted inside without another word.
Sarenya didn't let it bother her.
She took Valen's hand and stepped into the hotel with him.
At the reception desk, Bianca handled their room assignment, then she turned away, shooting Valen a knowing smirk, small, deliberate, and absolutely a promise of trouble.
They stepped into their room.
It was spacious, elegantly furnished, and impressively luxurious. A cozy lounge sat in one corner, with plush sofas and a low table, perfect for relaxing or entertaining.
Valen stepped onto the balcony, and Sarenya followed, letting the warm breeze wash over her. From this height, the entire resort sprawled below like a jewel set against the coastline.
The main skyscraper gleamed in the sunlight, its glass façade reflecting the ocean waves and the smaller villas scattered in manicured gardens around it.
Palm trees swayed lazily, their shadows stretching across paths lined with fountains and exotic flowers. Beyond the buildings, the beach stretched out in an endless arc of white sand, kissed by gentle, rolling waves that sparkled like liquid crystal.
But the real spectacle was happening on the sand. An entire section of the beach was being transformed into a massive concert arena. Stages rose from the shore, scaffolding of gleaming steel climbing toward the sky. Towers of speakers and lighting rigs loomed over the sand, and cables snaked across the ground like metallic vines.
Crew members darted back and forth with precision, hauling equipment, securing rigging, and testing sound systems.
Rows of chairs were being arranged for VIP guests, velvet ropes marking the high-status sections, and a runway stretched from the stage toward the water, as if performers would walk straight into the ocean.
Valen let out a low whistle. "Dayuum."