For a long moment, silence filled the room — heavy, stretched, fragile.
Lucian stood in the doorway, his shadow crossing Asher's bed like a quiet storm. The faint glow from the locket flickered once more, then faded into stillness.
"Asher," Lucian said finally, his voice low and restrained, "what did she tell you?"
Asher hesitated. "That she loved you. And that I'm… part of what she left behind."
Lucian's expression didn't change, but the way his hand tightened at his side said everything. He turned toward the window, the moonlight washing over his face, sharpening every line of regret.
"She shouldn't have reached you," he murmured. "The bond was meant to sleep forever."
"Then why didn't it?"
Lucian's eyes closed. For the first time, Asher saw something raw in his stillness — not anger, but grief long buried.
"It began the night she fell," Lucian said softly. "The night I betrayed her."
The world around Asher dimmed. The air grew heavy, and his surroundings blurred — until suddenly, he wasn't in his room anymore.
He stood in a vast courtyard, under the same moon, but brighter — alive. The air carried the scent of roses and iron.
Lucian stood before him, though younger, his crimson eyes fierce with emotion.
And before him — Amara.
She was radiant, alive, her voice strong as she said, "The Council won't listen, Lucian. They want the bloodline erased."
Lucian stepped closer. "Then we'll burn their thrones before they touch a drop of it."
Her eyes softened, but there was sorrow behind them. "You always speak of fire. I only wanted peace."
"You wanted to live among humans," Lucian said bitterly. "They would never accept us."
"And yet you loved one," she said quietly.
Lucian froze. The memory around them rippled. Asher's breath caught — she wasn't accusing him. She was mourning him.
Amara reached for Lucian's face, her touch gentle. "I never hated you for it. I hated the world for forcing us apart."
Lucian's voice broke. "Then why did you give me your blood?"
"Because I wanted you to live when I could not."
The memory burned white — fire, screaming, a sky turning red. Asher shielded his eyes, the world splitting apart as Amara's body crumbled to ash.
Lucian screamed her name, his fangs bared, the moon stained crimson above them.
When Asher opened his eyes again, he was back in his room — his chest heaving, the mark on his collarbone burning. Lucian stood before him, trembling.
"That's what I see every time I close my eyes," Lucian said hoarsely. "Her fall. My failure. And now…" His gaze flicked to the locket glowing faintly against Asher's chest. "Now her blood calls to me again through you."
Asher swallowed, his voice shaking. "Then maybe it's not a curse. Maybe she wanted to give you a chance to forgive yourself."
Lucian looked at him for a long moment — crimson eyes softening, the eternal fire behind them dimming into quiet sorrow.
"I don't deserve that chance," he whispered.
"Then let me prove you do," Asher said.
Lucian turned away, but his voice came low, almost breaking —
"Careful, Asher. Redemption always asks for more blood than it gives back."
The wind outside stirred, cold and restless, carrying with it the faint echo of Amara's voice — neither blessing nor curse, only a promise waiting to be fulfilled.
To be continued....