Emily's wrists burned from the ropes that bound them. Every step was a stumble, every pull from the vampires dragging her forward tore skin from her arms. She could hardly see through the tears clouding her vision, but she didn't need to. The stench of damp earth and rotting leaves told her they had left the ritual ground and were heading deeper into the forest. Her breath rattled. Her heart wouldn't slow down.
"Elena?" she tried again, her voice weak, broken.
The girl walking beside her didn't answer. Elena's hands were free now, her head bowed slightly, but she wasn't being dragged. She walked off on her own accord. She belonged to them now.
Emily pulled at the ropes, desperate. "Elena! Please, it's me... Look at me! Don't let them—"
"Silence her."
The order came from behind, low and cutting. The leader.
A hard smack struck Emily across the mouth, filling it with the copper tang of blood. She whimpered, biting down a sob, as the clan snickered around her, but worse than the sting was Elena's silence. She didn't even flinch. Didn't even turn her head.
They marched for what felt like hours, the forest swallowing them whole. Eventually, the trees parted, revealing a ruin hidden in the wilderness, crumbling stone walls, archways half-swallowed by moss, and the faint glow of torches flickering in broken windows.
The vampire clan's lair.
Emily's stomach twisted.
She was shoved through the threshold of a wide hall, her knees slamming into stone. The air smelled of ash and dried blood, the walls etched with carvings she couldn't understand. Strange symbols, sharp and jagged, as though clawed into the stone itself. The sound of dripping echoed in the silence.
Chains clinked. Groans rose from the dark corners. Emily's eyes adjusted, widening in horror. She wasn't the only prisoner.
There are dozens of men and women sitting shackled against the walls, their skin pale, their cheeks sunken. Some were too weak to raise their heads. Others watched her with hollow, warning eyes.
Emily froze, bile rising in her throat.
One of the clan laughed behind her. "Another lamb in the pen."
The leader's presence silenced him. "Not a lamb," he said, his gaze fixed on Emily. "This one is different."
Emily shook her head furiously, her voice cracking as she tried to form words. "No, I'm not... Please, let me go, I don't belong here. I swear to you guys, I won't tell anybody about what happened here."
The leader crouched before her, tilting his head. His eyes seemed to pierce straight through her skull, peeling her apart piece by piece. "You are marked," he said softly, as though repeating something sacred. "Your blood sings. It would be wasteful to spill it so soon."
Emily's chest constricted. "I don't know what you're talking about, but please! Let me go!"
"You will," he interrupted, rising smoothly. "In time."
The clan hissed their approval. Some grinned, others licked their lips, but none dared touch her now, not when she was his claim.
"Elena," the leader said, his voice cutting the air.
At once, her best friend stepped forward, obedient as a servant. She knelt at his feet without hesitation.
Emily's heart cracked.
"Elena, don't, please, don't do this," she whispered, her throat raw.
Elena finally turned her head. Their eyes met. For a brief moment, Emily thought she saw her again, the girl she laughed with, dreamed with, and trusted all her secrets with. But then the faint red glow flared in Elena's irises, and her lips curled in a smile Emily didn't recognize.
"Why fight it?" Elena said softly. "It's easier if you don't."
The clan laughed again, their voices bouncing off the stone walls like a twisted chorus.
Emily's vision blurred. She wanted to vomit, to run, to claw her way back to the world she knew, but she couldn't. Chains clinked as prisoners shifted in the shadows, their hollow stares pinning her in place.
The leader turned away, his cloak sweeping the ground. "Prepare her chamber," he ordered. "She will not feed you yet. She is mine until the next moon."
The vampires obeyed instantly.
Emily struggled as rough hands yanked her to her feet and dragged her toward a narrow corridor that smelled of mildew and death. Her voice tore from her throat in a scream:
"Elena! Don't leave me! Don't let them, Elenaa!"
But Elena didn't move or speak. She only watched, her glowing eyes following Emily until the darkness swallowed her whole.
Emily's cell was little more than a hole in the stone. Chains bolted to the walls, straw scattered on the floor, iron bars sealing her inside. The door slammed shut with a clang that echoed through her bones.
She collapsed. Her body shuddering, tears burning her face. Her mind replayed every second of the ritual, every drop of blood, every flicker of red in Elena's eyes. And one thought refused to leave her.
The leader said she was marked. So no one dared touch her without his permission.
The silence stretched until a voice broke it. Weak, hoarse, from the shadows of the neighboring cell.
"You shouldn't be alive."
Emily jerked, whipping her head toward the voice. A man, gaunt, with dark hair matted against his face, stared at her through the bars. His eyes were sunken, but sharp with something she couldn't name.
"They don't spare anyone," he rasped. "Not unless they want something from you."
Emily pressed back against the wall, trembling. "What do they want?" she whispered.
The man's lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace.
"They want everything."
And before Emily could demand more, before she could even catch her breath, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The leader's shadow stretched across the bars of her cell.
Emily froze where she hung in the chains, her wrists raw, her arms aching. The brazier's smoke stung her eyes, but she didn't dare blink. The air shifted as he entered, the door scraping shut behind him with a weight that made her stomach sink.
He said nothing at first. His silence was worse than the jeers and threats of the others. It filled the chamber like suffocating fog.
Emily's pulse pounded against the shackle biting into her skin. She wanted to scream at him, to demand why she was still alive, but her throat felt locked, her breath shallow.
At last, he stepped forward, the brazier's fire catching the edges of his face, sharp, pale, almost beautiful, but in a way that seemed carved for cruelty. His eyes glowed faintly, not bright, not flaring, but steady, like coals that had been burning for centuries.
He stopped close enough that she could feel the cold aura radiating off him. The chains rattled as she pressed back against the stone wall, trying to shrink away from him.
"You are afraid," he said at last, his voice low, quiet, threaded with command. "That is good."
Emily's lips trembled, but she forced words out through her dry throat. "What do you want from me? Just kill me already!"
His hand lifted, slow, deliberate, until his fingers brushed her cheek. She flinched, her body jerking as if burned, though his skin was ice-cold. He let the touch linger, tracing down to her jaw, tilting her chin upward until she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"I already have what I want," he murmured. "Your fear. Your defiance. Both will serve."
Emily's breath hitched. "I will never serve you."
The faintest curl of a smile touched his lips, "You already do. The moment your blood marked you, your path was sealed."
She shook her head violently. "No! I'm not one of you, and I won't be."
His hand moved lower, pressing against the cut he had carved into her arm during the ritual. She gasped at the sting, her knees nearly giving out. His thumb smeared the dried blood across her skin like paint, as though claiming it.
"Not yet," he whispered.
Emily's chest heaved, panic clawing at her ribs. "Why me? Why not finish it? Why let me live?"
The leader leaned closer, his shadow swallowing her whole. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice no louder than a breath. "Because you are chosen. The others think you were spared. They are wrong. You were claimed."
Her breath stopped. Claimed.
She shook her head, trembling, desperate. "By who?" she whispered, hating how small her voice sounded. Her chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, and before she could stop herself, the second question tore out, sharper, rawer: "And who are you? What are you actually?"
The leader's expression didn't change, but the air thickened, colder, heavier, as though the very walls leaned closer to hear his answer. His eyes glowed faintly, steady as a predator's.
He leaned closer, so close she could feel the chill of his breath against her ear. His voice was a whisper of ash and steel.
"You will know me when the time comes."
Then, as if her questions meant nothing at all, his hand fell away, leaving only the weight of his words pressing against her chest like chains she could never shake.
The iron door shut.
Emily sagged against the chains, her body wracked with violent sobs she tried to silence. His voice echoed in her skull like a curse: You were claimed.