The night was heavy with fog, thick and suffocating. Noxbridge City had grown quiet, but the quiet was a lie. Beneath the neon glow and the distant hum of traffic, something moved — deliberate, patient, predatory. Sandra walked along the wet cobblestones of an abandoned street, every sense alert, every heartbeat a warning she could not ignore.
Raven was beside her, his steps silent, his coat brushing against her arm. She could hear his pulse, steady and controlled, a rhythm she had begun to crave as much as she feared it.
"You'll need to be careful," he whispered, not looking at her. "They can sense Bloodmarked blood from a distance. The Order will feel you long before you see them."
Sandra nodded, clutching the edge of her scarf. "I know." But she didn't. Not really. The first feeding had changed her — twisted her perceptions, sharpened her instincts, and yet left her trembling inside with the memory of what she had done.
Raven stopped suddenly, pressing a hand against the damp brick wall. His body tensed, every muscle alert. He gestured silently for Sandra to crouch behind him.
"Shadows," he muttered, voice low. "They've been watching since the river."
Sandra followed, crouching beside him, heart racing. Her vision had changed; she could see in the dim light with clarity, the shapes and movements of things lurking in the fog. Silhouettes flickered between buildings, small but purposeful.
"They're close," he continued. "Don't make a sound."
A low whistle came from the fog, a sound sharp and metallic. Sandra flinched. From the mist emerged three figures, their forms slender, their coats dark as night. Eyes gleaming silver under the dim streetlights, they moved like shadows made flesh.
One stepped forward, cane tapping lightly on the stones. "Raven Hale," he said. The voice was calm, cold, deliberate. "You continue to meddle in affairs beyond your control."
"Malric," Raven growled, his crimson eyes glinting in the mist. "I warned you."
Malric's lips curved into a faint smile. "Warnings are only for those willing to listen. You are not."
Sandra's stomach knotted. Her senses screamed danger, her body quivering with anticipation. The hunger surged again, sharp and insistent. She tried to focus on Raven's presence, on the rhythm of his pulse, on the lessons he had begun to teach her.
"You brought her," Malric said, glancing at Sandra. "The Bloodmarked. Too early, perhaps."
"She is stronger than you think," Raven said, moving subtly in front of her. "And she will learn control."
Malric's smile widened. "Then we shall see. Control is… temporary. Hunger is eternal."
The word pierced Sandra like a blade. She glanced at Raven. "What do they mean?"
Raven's eyes were hard. "They want to claim you. Or destroy you. Either way, they will not leave you alone. And they will test you tonight."
Sandra's chest tightened. "Test me?"
"Yes," he said simply. "You will survive, or you will be their prey."
The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible. The three agents of the Veil moved closer, silent, predatory. Sandra felt every beat of their hearts, every subtle movement, every small breath. She could smell the faint tang of silver and iron from their weapons.
Raven turned to her. "Remember. Fear is your enemy. Hunger is not. You must use it — not let it use you."
Sandra nodded, though doubt gnawed at her. Her first feed had been a mistake. Could she control herself now? Could she resist the pull of their blood?
The first agent lunged. It was the smallest, quickest, a blur in the fog. Sandra froze, instincts screaming. She felt the hunger flare — the urge to strike, to feed, to taste.
Raven moved first, a shadow of motion, intercepting the strike with impossible speed. The agent stumbled back, eyes widening. Sandra felt a surge of adrenaline, mixed with the same terror she had felt at the river.
"You can move," Raven said, voice low. "Follow my lead."
The second agent advanced, cane raised, eyes gleaming. Sandra's senses sharpened — she could hear the rustle of the coat, the faint hum of power emanating from the cane. Hunger clawed at her throat, demanding action.
Raven's hand pressed against her shoulder. "Focus. You are not them. You are Bloodmarked. You control your power."
Sandra inhaled sharply. The fog seemed to slow, each movement of the agents visible in minute detail. She could hear the pulse of blood in the smallest veins, the rhythm of their muscles, the subtle shifts in their weight.
Instinct and training collided. She moved. Fast, precise, controlled. A hand struck the nearest agent's shoulder — not to harm, but to unbalance. Another step, another strike. Raven's instructions echoed in her mind, guiding her movements.
The agents faltered. They were fast, skilled, but Sandra could feel her strength — unnatural, terrifying, alive. Her hunger whispered, urging her to go further. She resisted. Focus, control. Discipline.
The third agent lunged. Sandra pivoted, using the momentum Raven had taught her, avoiding the strike. Her senses flared, allowing her to anticipate movements, to dodge, to respond. She struck lightly, deliberately, unbalancing the figure.
Malric's voice cut through the fog. "Enough!"
The agents withdrew, melting into the shadows, leaving only Malric standing. He tilted his head, observing Sandra. "Interesting," he said. "Perhaps she is… worth the effort. Or the risk."
Raven's crimson eyes narrowed. "Leave now, or face consequences."
Malric's lips curved. "We will meet again. And next time, it will not be a test. The Veil will act."
With that, the agent melted into the mist, leaving only silence behind. The fog swirled around Sandra, her body trembling, every muscle alight with adrenaline and residual hunger.
Raven approached. His hand rested lightly on her arm. "You did well," he said. "Better than I expected for your first confrontation."
Sandra sank to her knees. "I… I almost lost control."
"You didn't," he said softly. "And that matters. That is what separates us from monsters who have no choice."
She swallowed, her throat raw. "And what if next time I don't control it?"
Raven looked out into the foggy street, eyes distant. "Then you will learn. Pain teaches control better than fear ever could."
Sandra nodded slowly. She had survived the encounter. But the hunger was still there, whispering, demanding. The taste of blood lingered on her lips, memory and temptation combined.
"We train," Raven said. "Starting now."
Sandra's pulse raced. The city around them was quiet, but she could feel every heartbeat, every whisper of wind, every hidden movement. She was alive, stronger than before, but hunted. And she knew — this was only the beginning.
The Veil had marked her. And the Bloodmarked were never safe.