The first thing that returned to me wasn't a name, but a sensation. Cold. Not the regal, crystalline chill of my obsidian throne, but a damp, oily cold that seeped through my skin from the concrete beneath me.
My eyes snapped open. Above, the sky wasn't the endless, violet void of the Shadow Realm. Instead, it was a suffocating grey, pierced by flickering neon signs that hummed like angry insects. "Liquor," one sign screamed in a bleeding red font. I didn't know what the word meant, but the color... the color made my stomach twist with a hollow, agonizing ache.
I tried to stand. My limbs felt heavy, like they were made of stone instead of starlight. My fingers brushed against my neck, expecting the weight of the Aethelgard Diamond, but there was only bare, ice-cold skin. My silk gown was shredded, stained with the filth of this world.
Who am I? I whispered the question, but my voice was a raspy ghost of itself.
Suddenly, a searing flash of memory tore through my mind. I saw The Obsidian Spire, the heart of my kingdom. I saw the three Great Vampire Houses—The House of Fang, The House of Shadows, and The House of Blood—all kneeling before me. But the image shifted. The kneeling stopped.
I saw the betrayal. I saw the High Lords of the Three Houses, led by my own advisor, raising their silver blades in a silent coup. They didn't want a Queen anymore; they wanted a war. The sky of the Shadow Realm had turned red as they turned their fangs against one another, and finally, against me. I felt the sharp sting of a betrayal spell—a dark magic intended to erase my soul and cast me into the abyss.
They thought they had killed me. They thought the Queen was ashes.
But here I was. In a world that smelled of exhaust and cheap perfume.
A sound nearby made my ears twitch. A human.
He was stumbling into the alley, smelling of sour chemicals and sweat. But beneath that, there was a rhythm. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was the loudest sound I had ever heard. I could see the pulse in his neck, vibrating under the skin like a trapped bird.
Suddenly, a searing heat erupted in the back of my throat. My fangs, long and forgotten, slid down with a sharp ache. I wasn't just lost. I was starving. The hunger wasn't a choice; it was an ancient, predatory command that drowned out every royal instinct I had left.
The man stopped, squinting into the shadows where I crouched. "Hey... you okay, lady?" he stammered, his voice trembling.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My eyes, once the pride of the Shadow Realm, now glowed with a feral, crimson light. As he took a step closer, the scent of his blood hit me like a physical blow.
The High Lords of the Shadow Realm had robbed me of my memory and my crown, but they had forgotten one thing: A starving Queen is the most dangerous monster of all.
And I was about to have my first taste of vengeance.