Matteo hadn't slept.
Not even for a second.
Every time he closed his eyes, she was there.
Kiaro.
Golden eyes. Dark hair.
A wolf who had become a girl.
A girl who should not exist in his world—
and yet somehow… felt like she belonged in it.
By morning, the vampire citadel was awake with muted whispers, guards changing shifts, the black banners on the towers stirring faintly in the cold wind.
And Matteo… was pacing.
His boots struck the marble floor in sharp, clipped beats, echoing down the silent corridor like a war drum.
He had trained here all his life.
These halls had seen centuries of vampire princes rise and fall.
And yet today they felt too small, too silent, too suffocating.
"Are you going to wear a hole in the floor?"
Cassian's voice slid through the quiet like a blade. He leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, black hair falling into his silver eyes.
Matteo stopped mid-stride. "Maybe."
Cassian tilted his head. "Maybe… or definitely?"
"Cass," Matteo said, voice low, "have you ever heard of… Tukwai?"
The Name That Shouldn't Be Spoken
Cassian's brow rose.
The air around him seemed to chill.
"Why," he said slowly, "are you asking about that cursed place?"
"Just answer," Matteo said.
Cassian pushed off the wall. His boots made no sound. "It's a wolf settlement. Deep in the forests beyond the Bleakwater River. Hidden so well that even shadows get lost there. Vampires who go near it…" He paused, eyes narrowing. "They don't come back."
"Why?"
"No one knows," Cassian said. His tone had hardened, like stone over ice.
"And no one should know."
A shiver traced Matteo's spine.
But the image of Kiaro—barefoot in the moonlight, eyes like molten gold, burned hotter.
Later that day, Matteo slipped into the old citadel library.
The room smelled of dust and secrets. Shadows curled like cats around the tall shelves, and light from the stained-glass windows painted dying colors across the cracked stone floor.
Azel, the old librarian, sat hunched at his desk like a skeleton still clinging to life. His skin was pale parchment, his hair thin and white as cobweb silk.
"Azel," Matteo said quietly.
The old man blinked, slow and watery. "Prince Matteo… You should be resting."
"Tell me about Tukwai."
At the name, Azel's fingers froze on the map he was rolling.
For a long moment, he didn't speak. Only the soft tick of the clock filled the silence.
Finally, his hands trembled as he unrolled a different map, one older than the citadel itself. The edges were torn, the ink faded to brown.
"Tukwai…" Azel whispered, as if the word itself was dangerous.
"It is where the wolves keep their young. Their secrets. Their future."
"Why are vampires banned?"
Azel's faded eyes lifted and locked on Matteo's.
"Because long ago… we broke them. Burned their dens. Took their children to make them slaves." His voice cracked.
"They swore never to let it happen again."
Matteo's chest tightened. "What did we do?"
Azel closed the map with a soft snap. Dust rose like ash.
"Some wounds," he murmured, "are better left closed."
That night, Matteo stood at the tall glass window of his tower room.
The vampire city sprawled below, all dark rooftops and pale lanterns like captured stars. Beyond the walls, the forest stretched forever, black and endless, as if the world ended there.
Somewhere out there… she was running.
He could almost see her, slipping between the trees like moonlight turned wild. Laughing softly, unafraid of the dark. Her golden eyes finding his across the distance like they had that night.
The thought made his heart ache like a blade twisting inside him.
He should forget her.
She was the enemy.
She was impossible.
And yet…
Every hour that passed, the pull grew stronger.
It wasn't just longing. It was gravity.
Like some invisible thread was tying his heart to hers, dragging him closer with every breath.
He pressed his forehead to the cold glass.
"Kiaro…" he whispered into the night.
And the forest whispered back.
He turned away sharply, as if he could outrun his thoughts. He stripped off his armor, tossed it across the room, but his hands wouldn't stop trembling.
He remembered her voice, soft, almost teasing.
He remembered how the moonlight had touched her skin like it belonged to her.
And he remembered the way her gaze had pierced through him, past the walls, past the mask… straight into the boy who still lived somewhere inside the vampire prince.
Cassian's words echoed: Vampires who go near Tukwai don't come back.
Azel's: We broke them…
None of it mattered.
Not compared to the way her eyes had made him feel like he wasn't cursed at all. Like he was still alive.
His heart slammed like a war drum.
If Tukwai was forbidden…
then he would break the rules.
Even if it meant risking his life.
Even if it meant walking alone into the heart of the enemy's world.
Because deep down, Matteo already knew,
she was worth it.
He grabbed his travel cloak from the chair and swung it around his shoulders. The black fabric snapped like a banner as he moved.
At the door, he paused, just once.
His father's sword hung on the wall, untouched for years.
He took it.
Strapped it across his back.
His reflection in the mirror was pale and sharp-eyed, like a shadow given shape.
Somewhere far below, the bells tolled midnight.
Matteo slipped into the corridors like a ghost. Past guards who didn't see him. Past the hall where the king held court. Past everything that had ever been safe.
Every step carried him closer to her.
Closer to danger.
Closer to the place no vampire had returned from.
He smiled faintly in the dark.
Because for the first time in his life… he wasn't afraid.
Outside the gates, the forest loomed like a living thing, ancient and watchful. The air was colder, wilder. Crickets went silent as he passed. The moon slid behind a cloud.
Matteo stopped at the tree line. His breath curled white. His heart thundered.
He thought of Kiaro one last time.
Her smile like a secret.
Her eyes like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
He stepped forward.
The trees swallowed him whole.
And the world…
would never be the same.