"Life was never made to last."
"Then why does it fight you with such fury?"
"It fights because it fears me."
"No, it defies you."
"It doesn't matter, in the end, there is only silence."
"Then let it scream until the end."
-------------------------------------------
Years Ago — The Outskirts of Valewatch Village
Before the fire, before the screaming and smoke, there was laughter.
That's what Keira would remember the most, not the heat that blistered her skin, not the iron taste of blood in the back of her throat, not even the hollow silence that followed.
No, what stayed with her, what dug into her ribs and refused to leave was the sound of laughter. Soft. Wild. Full of dirt, wind and sky. The kind of laughter that belonged to children who didn't yet know how fragile a world could be. She could still hear it sometimes, in dreams. Or in the moment just before waking. Not a sound exactly, but the shape of one, like memory stuck too deeply into her bones.
And him.
He had been there too.
Not a phantom or a flicker, but solid, real in a way the others weren't anymore.
She couldn't recall the shape of his face, not truly. Time had stolen that from her. But she remembered the way he moved, like he belonged to the wind more than the ground.
He ran ahead, always. Never looking back, but never leaving her behind. She remembered the feel of his hand catching hers when she tripped on roots. The grin he tossed over his shoulder like a promise. The way his shadow stretched long beside hers in the last light of day.
The village had been quieter then. Tucked beneath the hills like something half-asleep.
There were lanterns strung between crooked trees, scent of cooked grain in the wind, elders who told stories to keep the dark at bay.
And Keira had believed them. Believed the dark stayed where it was told.
She hadn't yet learned that some shadows don't come from the outside.
Some rise from within.
The fire would come. The screaming would follow.
But not yet.
For now, there was laughter.
And him.
------------------------------------------
"Don't wander too far." her mother said without turning from the herb pots. "Sun's going down."
She was hunched over the wooden table near the hearth, sleeves rolled to her elbows, fingers stained green from crushed leaf and root. The scent of rosemary and old smoke hung in the air, softening the walls like a memory.
Keira stood in the doorway, one boot on and the other in her hand, struggling with the stubborn heel.
"I'm just going with Reyes again," she said, tugging. "He said he found a secret path with mushrooms that glow."
Her mother paused, one hand hovering over a cluster of dried sage.
"Oh, glowing mushrooms now, is it?" she said, more amused than concerned. "Last week it was tree spirits. Week before that, a tunnel to the sky."
Keira grinned. "This one's real. He swears on his fangs."
"That boy would swear on anything if it meant dragging you into the woods with him."
She shook her head but didn't stop working. Wrapping the herbs in linen with practiced care, tucking them into the hanging bundles above the fire. "One day he'll get you both turned around so badly you'll end up in the elven lands."
"Better than ending up in Aunt Maera's root cellar again."
Her mother tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
"You dug up half her winter stock. She still curses your name when the potatoes sprout."
"That was his idea!"
"I know," she said, finally turning to look at Keira, really look at her. "But you followed him."
She crossed the room, wiping her hands on her apron, then reached to brush a stray wisp of hair behind Keira's ear. Her fingers were rough, warm, smelling faintly of thyme and old wood.
"Stay where I can find you," she said, voice quieter now. "The woods are older than we are, and not all beautiful flowers mean well."
Keira nodded, her grin softening. "I'll be back before the lanterns burn out."
"You'd better," her mother said, stepping back. "or I'll tell your friend you stole the last honeycake."
Keira gasped. "You wouldn't."
Her mother raised a brow. "Try me."
And just like that, the tension broke. Keira laughed, loud and bright, and tugged on her other boot.
She was almost out the door when her mother called after her, gentler this time:
"Take your cloak. Even summer winds forget to be kind."
Keira hesitated only a second, then grabbed it from the hook and slung it over her shoulder.
"I love you," she said.
"I know," her mother replied, brushing a strand of hair from Keira's face. "Now go chase your glowing mushrooms, little bat."
Keira grinned, then turned and slipped out the door.
The air changed instantly.
From the warmth of the cottage to the cool hush of evening, as if the world outside had been holding its breath. The path to the trees welcomed her like it always did. Soft soil underfoot, the scent of damp moss and sweet rot clinging to the breeze.
The forest was thick with mist and fireflies.
Mist curled around the roots like curious fingers, cool and damp against Keira's legs as she moved. The air shimmered with soft golden pulses, fireflies drifting lazily, lighting and dimming like forgotten memories. Somewhere above, branches creaked softly, old and tired but not unfriendly.
Shadows moved between the trees like whispers. Not the kind that hunted, not yet, but the kind that lingered and listened. Keira didn't mind them. She knew these woods like old friends.
She knew where the blue moss grew thickest, where nettles hid horned rabbits, and where the crows gathered before rain. She'd found fox kits once beneath a hollow cedar, curled like flames. There was safety here, in this quiet wild. The woods knew her. She had grown beneath these branches, learned to move with the wind, her steps trained to match the silence.
But tonight, something was off.
Not wrong exactly. Just... out of step. Like a note held too long, or a lull between heartbeats. The kind of difference that made her ears prick.
Still, she wasn't afraid. This was her second home. A living map stitched into her feet.
She checked the old log by the creek first, where she and Reyes used to sit for hours daring each other to eat the weirdest berries they could find.
No Reyes.
Then she slipped past the fern-draped roots to the crooked stone near the path. They used to crouch behind it and giggle until their stomachs ached and their sides hurt.
Empty.
No footprints. No sign of him.
She frowned, brushing a curl from her face and glancing around. The fireflies blinked steadily, unbothered. The mist drifted low, unbroken.
"Rey?" she called, voice hushed but clear. "This better not be another joke..."
A rustle to her left.
She turned sharply, one hand already reaching for the small dagger tucked in her boot.
Then froze.
A cat.
Small. Black. Sitting neatly on a flat rock. It didn't flinch, just stared at her with wide amber eyes, its tail flicking with slow, deliberate rhythm.
Keira crossed her arms, trying not to smile. "What, just you?"
The cat didn't move.
She knelt, one knee sinking into moss, and stretched out a hand. "You didn't see a clumsy idiot with terrible hair run through here, huh?"
The cat blinked. Once. Slowly.
Then shimmered.
Not like sunlight on water. No, this was darker, deeper.
The cat's edges rippled, fur blurring into smoke, smoke unraveling into shadow. Limbs stretched with slow, liquid grace, too smooth, too silent. Its spine arched backward in an impossible curve, and where paws had pressed into moss, toes now curled. A shape unwound itself from the mist, human, but not quite yet. Something in-between.
Keira stumbled back a step, her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a curse.
She'd seen him shift before, glimpses of wings or smoke. But never like this.
Never this slow. This quiet.
The last threads of fur vanished into the air like ash. What remained was a boy, barefoot, smirking with little fangs poking out, a single firefly tangled in his dark, messy hair.
His eyes sharp, always too knowing, glinted gold in the moonlight.
"Terrible hair?" he asked, brushing moss from his tunic. "That's rich, coming from someone who still has twigs in her braid."
Keira let out a breath, more scoff than laugh. "You're such a show-off."
"You say that like it's a flaw." He grinned.
She squinted at him, the edge of her earlier shock still cooling. "You planned that, didn't you? The whole silent-cat-in-the-woods routine."
Reyes gave a lazy, exaggerated bow. "Only practiced it five times."
Of course he did. Shifting came easier to him now, not perfect, but smoother than it should've been for someone his age. Most Vampyrs spent decades just trying to hold a single form without twisting too far, warping limbs or forgetting how to come back. Reyes could already manage smaller creatures like cats, foxes, once a bat, though his wings had been lopsided for an hour afterward.
He was still learning. Still a child in the eyes of his kind. But the talent was there.
Turning into a person, a real one, with eyes that fooled and voices that mimicked? That was only possible in legends and folklores. Dangerous. Forbidden in some families.
But Keira could tell... he was already thinking about it.
"You're the worst," she muttered, even as she stepped beside him.
"And yet..." He arched a brow and nodded toward the hill. "You're still following me."
She shook her head, but couldn't help the smirk tugging at her mouth. "You promised glowing mushrooms."
"And I always keep my promises."
She didn't answer right away, just fell into step beside him, shoulder brushing his for the briefest moment.
As they walked, the mist closed behind them like a curtain. The forest exhaled.
"You think your mother knows?" Reyes asked, brushing aside a low-hanging branch as they made their way through ivy and twisted roots.
Keira stepped over a patch of tangled undergrowth, her boots leaving faint impressions in the damp moss. "She always knows," she said without hesitation. "She pretends she doesn't, but she does."
Reyes gave a low, thoughtful hum, kicking a pinecone aside with the toe of his boot. "And she lets you go anyway?"
Keira shrugged. "Yeah. I think... she wants me to have this. The woods. The space to breathe. To be someone else for a little while."
He didn't answer right away. The only sounds were their footsteps on damp earth and the hush of leaves above.
Then, softer than before: "Wish mine did."
She glanced over, caught off guard by the shift in his tone.
He wasn't looking at her. Just ahead, where the path disappeared into silver mist. His hands stayed loose at his sides, his shoulders slouched like always, but something had changed in the way he held himself. As if he was careful not to speak too loudly, in case someone might hear.
It wasn't sadness exactly. More like silence that had learned how to speak.
Keira knew the basics. Everyone in the village did. Reyes of House Merovin, born into one of the oldest bloodlines. His family didn't live in Valewatch, they ruled above it. Nobles. Higher vampires, known as Vampyrs, strict, powerful family. And they expected him to become one of them.
He was supposed to be learning discipline, politics, the art of war.
Instead, he snuck out windows and turned into cats.
Keira wanted to ask. She wanted to say me too, or tell me, or even just I hear you.
But Reyes nudged her with his elbow before she could speak, his grin cutting through the silence.
"Race you to the top?"
She arched a brow. "You'll lose."
"In your dreams, twig-legs."
Keira laughed and took off running, shoving past the vines like they were nothing. Reyes cursed and darted after her. Laughter echoed between the trees, loud and full of life. Fireflies scattered in their wake. Branches snapped. Breath came fast and sharp.
They ran like they had forever.
Like nothing could touch them.
Like home was waiting just behind the hill.
Keira reached the rise first, skidding to a breathless stop, boots scuffing the stone. She was grinning, triumphant, ready to turn and gloat -
- but then she smelled it.
Not the sweet, earthy scent of moss or bark or rain-soaked leaves she was used to.
Smoke.
Thick. Sharp. Choking.
Her smile faltered.
Reyes caught up beside her, panting, ready to argue the win, but he froze mid-breath.
They stared out over the ridge.
And below, everything burned.
Valewatch Village was a smear of fire and shadow, rooftops collapsed inward, flames moving up to the sky. The wind carried the crackling of wood, the groan of beams splitting, the distant sound of screaming. Painful screaming...
Keira couldn't move. Her heart had already dropped to her feet. Her mouth was open, but no sound came.
Reyes stepped forward, just one step, like if he got closer he might make it make sense.
"I—" Keira started, voice strangled.
The cloak her mother had made her still hung from her shoulders. It smelled like thyme and ash.
She had just been there.
That warmth, that voice, those quiet hands wrapping herbs.
Gone?
No, no, not yet. She couldn't accept that.
She turned to Reyes, expecting him to follow her, but he didn't.
He stood frozen on the slope, moonlight catching in his hair, smoke still clinging to the edges of his limbs like it didn't want to let him go. His eyes weren't glowing. They weren't sharp. They were wide, frightened.
"Reyes—"
Her voice cracked. He didn't answer. Just stared at the burning village below, the screams rising like birds taking flight.
Then, "Keira!"
He took one step forward, hand reaching for her, but not quite brave enough to touch.
"Don't—! Just wait!"
But she was already running.
Down the hill. Into the fire. Into the smoke and the screams and the smell of everything being lost. His voice followed her like a second heartbeat, calling her name again and again, until the flames swallowed everything.
The heat hit her in waves. Embers stung her arms. Shadows dashed between houses, not people, not anymore. She nearly tripped over a body. Keep going. Keep running.
"Keira!"
But it wasn't Reyes anymore.
It was her mother.
The sound of her voice cut through the chaos like a thread of light, raw and shaking, calling out again and again.
"Keira! Keira!"
She turned the corner near the well. Through the smoke stood a figure. Hair wild. Apron scorched. Her mother's arms were outstretched, searching.
Keira cried out.
And her mother saw her.
Keira stumbled into her mother's arms, nearly collapsing from the run, the fear, the smoke clawing at her lungs.
"Mamaa!"
Her mother wrapped around her like a shield, fingers clutching the back of Keira's head, pressing her close. She was trembling, not from fear, but from how tightly she held her daughter, as if she could keep the world from tearing them apart by force alone.
"You came back," her mother whispered, voice thick. "Oh gods, you came back."
Keira pulled back just enough to look at her. "We have to go, Rey, he's..."
Her mother's hands framed her face, soot-streaked and shaking. "Keira. Listen to me."
"I'm not leaving without you—"
"You are." Her mother's voice was firm now, but breaking beneath it. "You have to. There's no time, do you understand me? Run. As fast as you can. Don't stop. Don't look back."
"No! I can fight, I can..."
"You will die." Her mother's eyes burned brighter than the fire behind her. "And that cannot be the end of you."
Keira choked on a sob, shaking her head.
Her mother pressed something into her hand, something small and cold and shaped like a fang. Her necklace.
"I love you, my little bat. You are not made for cages. Now run."
Footsteps echoed behind them. Metal. Voices. Too close.
Her mother shoved her hard.
Keira stumbled back, heart screaming louder than her mouth could.
"I'll find you..." she began.
"No, Keira," her mother said, smiling through the tears. "I'll come to you."
Then she turned, arms out, facing what was coming.
And Keira ran.
She ran with the fire at her heels, her mother's voice burned into her bones, the world behind her collapsing in flame.
She didn't stop. She didn't look back. Not yet.
Keira crouched low behind the twisted oak, breath coming in ragged pulls, each one burning more than the last. Smoke clung to her skin, thick in her throat, her heartbeat frantic.
She didn't dare move.
Between the shifting haze and glowing embers, they emerged. Elven warriors.
Their armor shimmered like leaflight, cloaks of gold and silver trailing behind them in perfect rhythm. They didn't walk. They glided, a procession of death with no wasted steps, no hesitation. Blades already drawn, still wet with blood that steamed in the cool night air.
Keira pressed her back against the tree, the bark digging into her spine. Her body screamed to run again, but her legs had gone still, frozen by fear.
Then she saw her.
Kharis.
The Queen.
She strode at the front of the host, unarmored but invincible, her gown of silken silver trailing behind her like mist. Her crown shimmered not just with emeralds, but with something deeper, something living. Power pooled around her like a second skin.
Her face was beautiful in the way a blade might be, elegant, cold, meant to end things. Her eyes were glacial, unreadable. No joy. No regret. No satisfaction. Only purpose.
She walked the burning path like it had always belonged to her.
And ahead of her stood Keira's mother.
Blood matted her hair, ran down her temple. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her stance wide not in defiance, but in protection. Still blocking the way.
Ash swirled around them in delicate spirals.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
The fire behind. The soldiers beside. Even the wind held its breath.
"You've come far," her mother said, voice hoarse but steady, blood trickling down her jaw. "But you won't find it here."
Kharis stopped a few paces away, her silhouette backlit by the burning remnants of Valewatch. The fire gilded her pale hair and caught the green of her crown, turning her into something almost celestial, like a goddess walking in ruin. But her eyes... her eyes were colder than winter.
"You always did enjoy your little riddles," Kharis said, letting her gaze drift lazily over the wreckage. "Still clinging to riddles and herbs. It's quaint."
She took another step forward, the hem of her gown untouched by ash.
"You could've stayed," she continued, voice calm and precise. "You could've ruled beside me. You knew the power you found. You knew what it was. But instead, you chose to run. You chose a forest shack and dying roots, and you hid a weapon."
Keira's mother didn't flinch. She stood straighter, eyes blazing with something older than fear. "You call it a weapon because you only see war," she said. "But it was made to hold back the dark, the kind even you can't tame."
Kharis laughed, a silver sound, crystalline and cruel. It echoed over the fire. She approached slowly, her emerald cloak dragging through the soot. "You always did prefer hiding to fighting," she said, almost amused. "But this isn't a charm you can bury in your garden."
She stopped a few paces away, flames reflecting in her eyes. "Where is it?"
Keira's mother smiled, tired, laced with defiance. "Where it belongs."
Something changed in Kharis's expression. Her lips parted, surprise, or calculation, it was hard to tell.
"That place is ash."
"Exactly," Keira's mother said. "Even you can't burn what's already dead."
Elven queen took a step forward, green magic crackling faintly at her fingertips. "So you did have it."
"I kept it from hands like yours." A breath. "And now it's buried where greed becomes dust."
The wind stilled.
"...Are you going to kill me now?" she asked, voice calm.
The wind shifted. Kharis didn't hesitate. She raised her hand and smiled.
A surge of green lightning bloomed across her palm. Not smooth and beautiful like traditional elven spellwork. This was jagged, alive. It writhed between her fingers, crackling like a beast. It cast twisted shadows across her face, turning her eyes into pits of emerald fire.
"I think," Kharis whispered, "we both know the answer to this."
The lightning leapt from her hand with a shriek.
It hit Keira's mother square in the chest.
The blast lit up the clearing, thunder snapping through the trees like a broken sky. She was thrown backward. She wasn't screaming, nor pleading, just gone, swallowed in a burst of green and flame and silence.
Keira crouched behind the tree, fists buried in the soil, mouth open in a soundless cry. Her eyes burned with smoke and something worse.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to run to her mother's side.
But her legs wouldn't move.
The woman who had taught her how to snare rabbits, how to weave herbs, how to find the stars when the world felt too dark. The woman who had loved her, without question... was gone.
Something inside Keira twisted in that moment. For a heartbeat she swore she could hear a crack ran through her chest, invisible but unmistakable, and through it seeped something darker, colder, waiting.
Kharis stood still for a moment, breathing hard, eyes sweeping the smoke-veiled woods.
"You always chose the wrong side. Even in the end."
She turned without looking back.
"Burn what's left. Then head for the Umbrael Kingdom. If she hid it, she hid it there." Her orders were quick, firm.
The elven blades gleamed as they fanned into the trees.
Keira didn't breathe.
Not yet.
Not until the forest swallowed her again.
Not until she ran.