CHAPTER NO 17
"The City of Crimson Glass"
The journey to the vampire capital took three nights and two blood-red dawns. The closer they came, the heavier the air became thick with magic, memory, and fear.
Selene could see the city long before they reached its gates. The Crimson Spires rose like daggers into the mist, their glass edges reflecting the moonlight in fractured shades of red. A thousand torches burned along the walls, flickering like the eyes of a sleeping beast.
The capital was not a city it was a living shadow.
Nyra rode beside her in silence. Her armor was hidden beneath a dark cloak, but even disguised, she radiated power. The blood mark on her wrist shimmered faintly under the cloth the sign of the Oath they shared.
Selene touched her own mark. It pulsed softly, like a second heartbeat.It still frightened her this connection, this magic she didn't understand but she no longer felt alone.
"Nyra," she whispered, "will they recognise you?"
Nyra's lips curved faintly. "If they do, we're already dead."
That answer didn't comfort her, but Selene said nothing more. She trusted Nyra now not because she was a princess, but because she had chosen her, not the prophecy.
They entered the city through the Shadow Gate, a narrow passage carved beneath the mountain. The guards didn't stop them. Vampires rarely questioned those who walked with confidence.
Inside, the streets were filled with silence. The houses were tall and thin, built from black stone that reflected the faint red glow of the torches. No laughter, no music only the sound of footsteps and whispers that faded when they passed.
Selene stayed close to Nyra. She could feel eyes watching them from behind the glass windows.
"Why does everyone look afraid?" she asked softly.
Nyra's gaze swept the street. "Because they know what's coming. The Council rules with fear. And fear is a fragile crown."
They stopped at a small inn near the edge of the Cathedral Quarter. It was run by an old vampire with a scar across his eye. He looked at Nyra for a long moment before bowing slightly.
"Rooms for travellers?" he asked in a low voice.
Nyra nodded. "Two. And silence."
He said nothing more only handed her the keys.
That night, Selene couldn't sleep. The city felt alive around her breathing, shifting, whispering through the walls.
She stood by the window, looking at the red moon that hung low over the spires. It looked closer now, too close, like it was watching.
When Nyra entered, Selene turned quickly. "You're awake too."
Nyra nodded, her cloak gone, her hair unbound. The faint light caught the edges of her features, making her look both ethereal and dangerous.
"The Council moves tomorrow," Nyra said quietly. "They've called for the Blood Assembly. Every noble house will attend. That's when I'll speak."
Selene frowned. "Speak? You mean fight."
Nyra's eyes flickered. "Sometimes, words wound deeper than swords."
Selene walked closer, her voice trembling. "And if they don't listen?"
"Then I'll make them."
There was something in her voice not arrogance, but conviction, the kind born of loss and purpose.
Selene hesitated, then asked softly, "What if they hurt you again?"
Nyra met her gaze, eyes softening for the first time that night. "They already did, once. When they made me believe love was a weakness."
She turned toward the window. "Now I know it's the only strength that matters."
When dawn came, the city was restless. Bells rang from the Cathedral of Blood slow, heavy, echoing through the streets like war drums.
Selene dressed quickly. Nyra had already donned her ceremonial armor silver trimmed with black, bearing the crest of her house: a blood-red moon surrounded by thorns.
They left the inn and walked through the crowded streets. Vampires gathered in silence, their faces pale and cold. The Blood Assembly Hall stood at the heart of the city, carved into the mountain itself. Its doors were lined with crimson glass, reflecting the faces of all who entered.
Inside, the hall shimmered with dark light. The twelve Council members sat in a semicircle, their robes long and shadowed. At the centre stood the High Lord of the Blood Council, his voice deep and cruel.
"Princess Nyra of House Veils," he said, "you return without summons. Why?"
Nyra stood tall, her cape flowing behind her like a shadow. "Because you are wrong."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
The High Lord narrowed his eyes. "Wrong?"
"You call me cursed because I defied your order. You call her cursed because she was born different. But you're the ones who are blind. You built this world on fear and now it's rotting beneath you."
Selene felt every eye turn toward her. The air grew colder.
The High Lord's voice rose, sharp and venomous. "You broke the Oath. You bound a mortal to your blood. You tainted our line."
Nyra's voice did not waver. "No. I freed it."
Lightning cracked outside, shaking the hall.
The High Lord stood. "Then by the laws of the Blood Council, you are condemned. Both of you."
Selene gasped, but before she could move, Nyra raised her hand.
Her sword flashed in an arc of crimson light. The sound rang through the hall like thunder.
"No," Nyra said, her voice calm, her eyes glowing red. "I am done obeying."
The Council members rose from their seats, but the air shifted the runes of the Blood Oath on Nyra's wrist flared bright, and a surge of magic burst through the hall.
The glass windows shattered, red shards swirling like fire.
Selene felt the energy burn through her veins, wild and terrifying. The mark on her wrist blazed to life. She saw shadows move not outside, but within her. Power she didn't understand, answering to Nyra's.
Together, their blood sang.
The High Lord's voice turned to fear. "What have you done?"
Nyra's eyes locked on him. "I've chosen the one thing your laws could never kill."
Selene stepped beside her, her voice trembling but steady. "Love."
The hall erupted in chaos vampires shouting, the air cracking with energy.
But amid the storm, Nyra reached for Selene's hand. Their fingers touched and the world stilled.
The Blood Oath's power flared once more, a wave of crimson light sweeping across the hall, erasing shadows, erasing silence.
And for the first time in centuries, the capital trembled not from war, but from change.