Erica stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, her body tense as if bracing for the familiar throb of a headache. But none came. She waited a beat longer, then sat up abruptly on the thin mattress of her bed. The harsh white light from the overhead bulb pierced the dim cell, yet it didn't sting her eyes—not even a flicker of discomfort. Before she could ponder the oddity, a primal instinct surged through her, sharper and more intimate than any she'd known before. It wasn't just a feeling; it was a warning, etched into her very blood: *You are being watched.*
She whipped around, her gaze locking onto the figures beyond the iron bars. A man in a tailored red suit, accented by a crisp yellow shirt beneath, stood at the forefront. Flanking him were three hooded individuals, their faces obscured by masks and shadows, exuding an aura of silent menace. Erica rose to her feet, her stance defiant, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.
"I must say," the man began, his voice smooth and laced with intrigue, "you are certainly interesting." He lifted a thin file from the table beside him, scanning it briefly. "Erica Elara." He set it down, his eyes piercing hers with calculated curiosity. "A female name as your surname, even after adoption. Tell me, Miss Elara, why did you do it?"
Erica met his gaze unflinchingly. "If you're here to lecture me on morals, you're wasting your time. Just let me see my family, and I'll serve my sentence in prison."
He chuckled, a low, mocking sound that echoed off the cold stone walls. "Miss Elara, as I said, you are *interesting*. You rob a governor's private vault for your little brother and betray your own crew. Why?"
She straightened, her voice steady. "They betrayed me first. Someone tipped off the enforcers—"
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "No, that was the security protocol. The entire enforcer command was alerted the moment you breached the vault, Miss Elara. But none of that concerns me. What *does* is what happened to you afterward—and whether the reports are true." He nodded to one of the hooded figures, who handed him a small, ornate object. "Time for a little test, Miss Elara."
The device resembled an ancient compass, its needle encased in a crystal dome etched with faint runes. He pointed it at her, and the needle spun wildly before locking onto her direction with unerring precision. A satisfied smile crept across his face as he returned it to the hooded attendant. "Now, you may know who I am. I am the Councillor of Aurealis, sent by the Council of Men."
Erica's mind raced, piecing together fragments of whispered legends—the Council, shadowy overlords pulling strings from the human realms. But she kept her expression neutral.
"Do you see a floating panel?" he asked, leaning forward. "One only your eyes can perceive?"
"Yes," she admitted, recalling the ethereal display from her blackout: the unlocking of bloodlines, the naming of Elara.
"That panel, Miss Elara, is worth more than any gold you could have stolen. It's the key to your family's future—and your freedom. But now, you face a choice. Option one: The Council has ordered the arrest of your entire family. Raising a girl who turns to theft? We can't allow such influences to persist."
Erica lunged toward the bars, her fists clenching around the cold metal. "My family did nothing wrong!"
"Oh, but they did 'everything' wrong," he replied coolly. "They raised you, after all. And as for you? Execution for breaking the law—immediately after this conversation ends."
"You can kill me," she snarled, pressing against the bars. "Just leave them out of it. You said it yourself—I don't even bear their surname."
The Councillor turned away, as if to leave, his footsteps deliberate. Then he paused, his back to her. "Then perhaps the second option will suit you better. The Council will treat your brother—fully, at our expense. In return, you venture to the LOST Realm and hone your powers at the LOST Academy. Simple."
Erica recoiled, stunned. The LOST Realm—the forbidden domain of ancient bloodlines, whispered in tales as a place of peril and power. "Oh, and I believe you're familiar with it," he added with a knowing smirk.
Her thoughts churned like a storm. ("Too straightforward. There's a catch—I'm walking into a trap. But what choice do I have?")
"I agree, Councillor," she said finally.
He sighed dramatically, still facing away. "You disappoint me, Miss Elara." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Then you die now. What a waste of power and potential." He began to walk away, the hooded figures trailing him.
Erica's heart plummeted—she'd misread the game. "I choose the second option!" she called out desperately.
The Councillor halted, pivoting back with a triumphant grin. He sauntered closer. "Perfect. Never forget, Miss Elara: little details can cost you your life—and in your case, your family's as well." His smile widened. "Now, we have a deal."
"Not yet, Councillor," she countered, her dark eyes boring into his. "You skipped a few 'little details' yourself."
"Such as?" he asked, grinning wider, as if enjoying the spar.
"You didn't mention my crime being forgiven."
"That's because it's not part of the deal. You'll have to prove your usefulness at the Academy. Work hard, and perhaps we'll overlook it."
The echo of approaching footsteps interrupted them—sharp clicks of heels reverberating through the empty cells. A woman emerged from the shadows, appearing in her forties, with sleek black hair framing a face of striking beauty. Her figure, curvaceous and commanding, was modestly concealed by a flowing blue gown beneath a black overcoat. Men would falter in her presence, drawn to her effortless allure.
"Ah, just in time," the Councillor said, turning to her.
"Please, introduce yourself," she replied with a warm smile, then addressed Erica. "I am Morganne Pierce, your new principal. And I must say, I have an intriguing student—a human who awakened a Bloodline, going by the name Erica *Elara*." She emphasized the surname, her eyes twinkling with unspoken knowledge.
Erica forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Morganne returned it, then turned to the Councillor. "The Academy begins its first semester this year, and I must be there. So, if you'll excuse us, Councillor—we'll be on our way."
The Councillor glanced at Erica. "Hear that? You won't be the awkward newcomer..." He nodded to a hooded figure. "Fetch the enforcer in charge to open her cell."
"I believe that won't be necessary," Morganne interjected, stepping forward. With effortless strength, she gripped the heavy padlock and twisted it until it shattered in her hand. She unbolted the door, swinging it open. Erica stepped out, free at last.
The Councillor laughed, a bitter edge to it. He closed the distance to Morganne, mere inches separating them. "It's surprising, isn't it? Even with all this power..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Men still rule the world. And now, men are claiming your 'special' Bloodlines."
Morganne's smile remained serene, unyielding. "Erica, let's leave."
Erica nodded, falling in step beside her as they strode down the corridor, leaving the cell—and the Councillor—behind.
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Outside, Erica and Morganne approached a sleek black vehicle parked under the enforcer station's floodlights. They slid inside, the engine purring to life. As the car pulled away, merging onto the highway, the night swallowed them.