The door of the cell screamed on its hinges, and two sets of hands clamped down on Emily's arms before she could even move. She thrashed, but their grip was iron, cold fingers biting into her skin.
"Let me go!" she shouted, but her voice cracked, swallowed by the echoing stone.
The soldiers didn't answer. Their faces were carved from shadow, eyes pale and unblinking as they dragged her down the corridor. The torchlight smeared across the damp walls, revealing streaks of dried rust-red that she knew, with a sickness in her stomach, was not paint.
Emily's bare feet slapped against the uneven stone. Her breath came ragged. She didn't know where they were taking her, but the words still rang in her skull like a tolling bell: Bring her to me.
The passage widened. Suddenly, she was no longer in the suffocating tunnels but out under the open sky.
And then she saw it.
The vampire village stretched before her like something carved out of a nightmare. Blackened wooden halls clustered together, their walls painted with sigils she didn't understand. Bones dangled like wind chimes from the eaves, clattering softly whenever the wind stirred. Firepits crackled in the center, throwing sparks into the night air. Dozens of figures moved through the shadows. Vampires, they are all vampires. Their movements too fluid, too quick, their eyes catching the firelight like predatory animals.
The scent hit her next. Copper, rot, and smoke, undercut with something sharp and metallic. The stench of blood.
Emily stumbled, her stomach heaving, but the soldiers yanked her upright. Their march cut straight through the village, past the gazes that turned to follow her, hungry, curious, gleeful. Whispers rose like a hiss through the crowd.
A human. A human is still breathing.
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to meet their stares, but one voice cut through the murmur, smooth and mocking.
"Careful. She might bite back."
Emily's eyes snapped open. Her heart stopped.
Elena stood near one of the firepits, her pale face illuminated in flickering orange. She was draped in dark fabric now, intricate symbols etched into her skin in red pigment. A wreath of woven bones crowned her hair. She smiled, but it wasn't Elena's smile anymore. It was a predator's baring of teeth.
Emily's throat closed. "Elena, help me..."
But her friend turned away, already swept into the cluster of vampires who welcomed her like royalty.
Emily's body went cold.
The soldiers shoved her forward again, toward a structure at the far end of the village. A vast hall carved into the trunk of a monstrous, hollow tree. Its bark was blackened, its roots curling like claws, and above the entrance hung a sigil burned into the wood: the screaming mouth.
The Bloodscream's mark.
The doors groaned open, and the soldiers thrust her inside.
The air was thicker here, heavy with incense and smoke. At the far end of the chamber sat the throne, carved of bone and obsidian, raised high on a platform of stone. Torches lined the walls, their flames unnaturally still, as if held in place by something unseen.
And on the throne sat the leader.
He was enormous, his frame broad, draped in crimson robes that shimmered like wet blood. His face was ancient and sharp, cheekbones cut like knives, his hair long and black streaked with silver. His eyes glowed faintly, the color of fresh-spilled wine. And when he smiled, Emily saw fangs that could split her throat in one effortless motion.
Her knees buckled. The soldiers forced her down before him, pressing her forehead nearly to the floor.
The leader leaned forward, his voice smooth, deep, and horrifyingly calm.
"So," he murmured, "the stray."
Emily's mouth was dry. She tried to form words, but only a rasp escaped.
The leader's gaze pierced her like a blade. "Do you know why you live, when the others do not?"
Emily's chest heaved. She couldn't speak.
A faint chuckle slid from his throat. "Because death is mercy. And I have no use for mercy."
He rose from the throne, each step echoing like thunder in the chamber. When he stopped before her, his shadow swallowed her whole. He reached down, one cold finger lifting her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.
Emily's blood turned to ice. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
"Do not mistake this as kindness," the leader said softly, his lips curving into something almost tender. "You were spared for a purpose."
He bent closer, so near that she could feel his breath against her ear.
"You will be our offering when the solar moon rises."
Emily's heart stopped. The words tore through her, leaving nothing but terror in their wake.
The soldiers dragged her back as the leader returned to his throne, his crimson robes trailing like rivers of blood.
"Take her away," he commanded.
Emily's screams echoed in the hall as she was pulled toward the doors, her voice breaking on the word that consumed her, "No!"