The black vintage car glided silently through the London night. The thick glass panes muffled the city's roar and swallowed the streetlights. Elara leaned against the cold window, the pale silver mark on her fingertip pulsing with a faint, rhythmic heat. It felt like an invisible thread—one end tethered to her soul, the other tied to the silent man beside her.
She stole a glance at Samuel. He sat perfectly upright, his black tuxedo immaculate, his profile resembling a marble statue carved by a master's hand. He had his eyes closed, long lashes casting soft shadows over his pale cheeks. He looked serene, as if the violent confrontation at the studio had been nothing more than a passing breeze.
Yet, Elara could feel the chill radiating from him, mingled with the scent of crushed roses and a faint, metallic hint of blood—the intoxicating, dangerous aroma of vampire nobility. It made her palms dampen with nervous sweat.
"Is Blackwood Castle far from the city?" Elara finally broke the silence. She needed to speak, to anchor herself against the rising tide of unease.
Samuel slowly opened his eyes. His crimson gaze flickered in the dim cabin. He didn't answer immediately; his eyes lingered on her trembling lips for a beat before he spoke. "It lies deep within the ancient forests of the western outskirts—the ancestral seat of the Blackwood line. A primordial magic barrier shields it. No ordinary human can ever find it."
"A magic barrier?" Elara frowned. "Like the one you used on the window?"
"Similar, but far older. Far more absolute," Samuel nodded. "It has been bolstered by generations of Lords. It repels supernatural incursions and veils the castle from mortal eyes. Valerius's men cannot breach it easily. For now, it is the only safe harbor you have."
Elara fell silent. She knew he was right, but the thought of being sequestered in a supernatural fortress filled her with resistance. She was a restorer of books, a creature of quiet archives, not a pawn in a war of monsters.
Suddenly, the mark on her fingertip flared with agonizing intensity. A gasp escaped her throat as she curled her fingers instinctively against the searing pain. Beside her, Samuel's face darkened. He pressed a hand to his chest, his brow furrowing in a rare display of discomfort.
"What is happening?" Elara hissed through gritted teeth, beads of cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.
"A resonance interference," Samuel's voice was strained, hoarse. "Someone is trying to forcibly sever or corrupt the contract's link. It's Valerius."
The car suddenly surged forward, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The driver's voice came sharp from the front: "My Lord, we have company! Valerius's Sentinels are on our tail!"
Elara's heart leaped into her throat. She spun around to look through the rear window. Three black off-road vehicles were gaining fast, their headlights glaring like the eyes of predatory beasts in the dark.
A flash of lethal coldness crossed Samuel's eyes. He flicked his wrist toward the rear window, and a wall of shifting shadows erupted behind them, momentarily blinding the pursuers. He then pulled a black obsidian seal from his pocket and thrust it toward the driver. "Activate the Emergency Passage. Breach the mountain barrier now!"
The driver slammed the seal into a slot on the dashboard. A beam of spectral silver light shot from the car's roof into the night sky. The air around the vehicle began to warp and shimmer, the world outside turning into a blurred kaleidoscope of gray and black.
"This is the Blackwood's private leyline," Samuel explained, his eyes fixed on the encroaching headlights. "His Sentinels are powerful, but they cannot follow us into the fold."
Elara nodded, though her body remained rigid. The burning in her finger was worsening, the interference clawing at her senses. She looked at Samuel and realized his skin had turned a ghostly, translucent white. The contract interference was hitting him even harder.
"Will we... be okay?" Elara's voice was small. She realized then that her fate was no longer her own. If Samuel fell, the backlash of the contract would likely tear her apart.
Samuel turned to her. A complex emotion flickered in his crimson eyes—something that looked almost like regret—before it vanished behind a mask of calm. He didn't speak. Instead, he reached out and gently took her hand, covering her trembling fingers with his cold palm.
The moment their skin touched, the marks on their hands erupted in a soft, silvery glow. The light intertwined, forming a protective shroud around their joined hands. The agony vanished instantly, replaced by a soothing coolness that flowed through Elara's veins.
"The bond can stabilize itself through touch," Samuel's voice had dropped to a low, melodic murmur. "With me here, no harm will reach you."
Elara stared at their joined hands. She could feel his strength, his steady, ancient heartbeat echoing through the bond. When she looked up into his eyes, the icy distance had thawed into an imperceptible, haunting tenderness.
The car lurched through the warped space and suddenly emerged into a silent, mist-shrouded forest. The pursuers were gone, replaced by the ancient stillness of towering oaks. As the tension left her body, Elara leaned back, still holding his hand. She knew this was only the eye of the storm, and the true shadows were waiting at the castle ahead.
[Samuel: The Warmth of the Bond]
The moment he took Elara's hand, the jagged discord in Samuel's blood was silenced. A surge of warmth—vibrant and life-affirming—flowed from her into him, dispelling the rot of Valerius's dark magic. It was a sensation he hadn't tasted in centuries: strange, unsettling, yet profoundly grounding.
He watched her in the silence of the car. Her face was still pale, her brow damp, her eyes wide with the wariness of a trapped fawn. Yet, beneath the fear, he saw the steel. She didn't scream; she didn't collapse. She was exactly what the records said a Script-Mage should be—resilient, brave, and unyielding.
Samuel had always viewed the Moonlight Covenant as a cold duty, a political shackle meant to keep the peace. He had never expected a human girl to be the other half of his soul, let alone one who could make his frozen heart stir.
From the moment he felt her resonance in the studio, to the way she had defended herself against the shadows, he found himself drawn to her fire. He knew it was a cruelty to drag her into his world of blood and betrayal. She belonged in the sun, among her dusty books and quiet streets. But the blood in her veins—the same blood that now hummed in harmony with his—had made her a target long before he arrived.
"Valerius will not stop," Samuel said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Now that he has confirmed your identity, he will use every resource to claim you and the manuscript. Once we are within the castle, I will begin your training. You must learn to command the glyphs in your blood."
Elara looked up, startled. "Can I truly learn it? I've never seen magic, let alone used it."
"Your blood is the magic," Samuel said, turning his gaze back to the passing shadows of the forest. "The Script-Mage lineage doesn't just use magic; they are the language of the world. Your instinctive strike back at the studio was just the beginning. With guidance, you will become the one thing Valerius fears."
"And the others in the castle?" she asked, her voice hushed. "Will they accept a human?"
Samuel's eyes turned to flint. "The Blackwood Clan obeys the Lord. I will declare you my Contractor before the entire court. Anyone who dares to slight you defies me. And they know the price of defiance."
The authority in his voice was absolute, and for the first time, Elara felt a sliver of peace.
The car crested a final hill, passing through a shimmering veil of mist. The forest opened up to reveal a sprawling gothic fortress of dark stone. Its spires pierced the moonlight like daggers, and its windows flickered with the amber glow of a thousand candles.
Blackwood Castle. Her sanctuary, and her prison.
Samuel was the first to step out into the biting night air. He turned back, extending a gloved hand toward her. His palm was cold, but his grip was a promise of iron.
"Come," he said, the moonlight catching the crimson depth of his eyes. "Welcome to Blackwood Castle, Elara. Welcome home."
Elara looked at his hand, then at the looming towers of her new life. She took a breath, reached out, and let him lead her into the dark.