Chapter 9 Royal blood

Night draped over the city like a heavy curtain, blanketing its sharp corners in shadows and silencing the bustle to a hush. Rain sat huddled near the flickering neon light of a broken sign above a closed pawn shop. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, stared ahead as the cold seeped through her coat, into her bones. Another day had passed, and though she had avoided trouble, there was always the sense that something unseen was closing in.

Across town-far from the dirt-slick alleys and broken-down buses of Rain's life-a different meeting took place. This one was older, darker, and held under the veil of the woods that had not known daylight in centuries. Hidden beneath rock and fog and silence, a chamber stretched beneath the roots of the forest. This was the cradle of the Nightborne, an ancient vampire clan that had outlived kingdoms and watched the ages pass like seasons.

In the center of the stone chamber stood a woman, statuesque, her skin pale as bone and her eyes gleaming crimson beneath a hood. Her name was Maelira, the Crimson Regent, and she was second only to the vanished monarch whose bloodline had long since been presumed extinct.

But that presumption had changed.

"There are whispers," Maelira said, her voice like silk dragging over a blade. "Of the human man called Austin. Of the woman he ran away with."

The council murmured, the name stirring unrest. "The princess," one of them said under their breath.

Maelira nodded slowly. "They called her Althaea. She disappeared nearly a decade ago. Thought to be dead. But there are... signs now. Too many to ignore."

She turned to the flames flickering in the stone basin at the center. Within it, shadows danced unnaturally. Smoke curled and shifted, forming the faint outline of a woman's face-her eyes golden, her hair as pale as moonlight.

"We find her," Maelira continued, "and we restore the line. This war-torn world needs the royalty of the blood back in its rightful place."

A cloaked figure stepped forward. "If she lives, she will resist. She chose exile."

Maelira's smile was cold. "Then she will be reminded."

As the council dispersed like bats at dusk, the wind outside screamed through the branches. The Nightborne had not moved in decades. Tonight, they would.

Back in the city, Rain jolted awake. A sudden crash echoed nearby. Just a cat, probably. Still, she scrambled up and moved quickly down the alley. Something had changed in the air. It wasn't just hunger or fear anymore-it was something thicker, harder to describe.

She wrapped her coat tighter, trudging toward the underpass she often hid in at night. She passed the graffiti-covered walls, the rusted fence, the man with the shopping cart who never spoke.

Somewhere in her gut, a strange ache stirred. Like a memory she didn't have trying to claw its way out.

Behind her, in the deep fog of the evening, two sets of eyes watched. One, feral and gold. The other, red as spilled wine.

They did not speak.