The night Veloria tore open began like any other—quiet, windless, and painted in the pale silver of the twin moons. In the deep valley of Evershade, where mist clung to the earth like ancient breath, Aeloria Nightthorn knelt in her herb garden, unaware that fate had already placed its hand upon her.
She pressed her palms into the cool soil, inhaling the familiar scent of damp earth and wild mint. The lantern beside her flickered, painting gold across her copper-brown skin and catching the waves of her dark hair. Tonight, the atmosphere felt heavy—almost expectant—but Aeloria, always grounded, blamed it on another sleepless night.
Her fingers brushed over a leaf, and the plant shivered as if alive.Aeloria paused.
She wasn't imagining that.Plants often responded to her touch—grew faster, healed quicker—but she had always assumed she was merely skilled, not enchanted. The idea of magic in her veins seemed too far-fetched for an orphan raised by a quiet herbalist in a forgotten valley.
Thunder growled though the sky was clear.
Aeloria rose slowly, brushing dirt from her dress. "Storms without clouds," she murmured. "Just what I need."
Another rumble answered her, closer this time—too close, too…alive.
She turned.
From the edge of the forest, something moved.A shadow, but with shape.A figure cloaked in darkness yet reflecting moonlight in the shape of eyes—crimson, predatory eyes locked onto her.
Her heart stuttered.
The figure stepped into her lantern's glow, revealing a man tall enough and beautiful enough to make breath irrelevant. Skin pale as moonlight. Hair dark as raven feathers. Shoulders draped in a cloak stitched with silver threads that sparkled like fresh blood.
But it was his aura—cold, heavy, ancient—that made her knees threaten to buckle.
A vampire.Not a wandering rogue.A royal one.
His voice, smooth as velvet stretched over steel, slid across the space between them.
"Aeloria Nightthorn."
Her throat closed.
He knew her name.
He took another step, and the temperature around her dropped. Frost began to creep across the rim of her lantern.
"You must come with me," he said. "Now."
Aeloria backed away, her heel hitting the wooden garden box. "I think you have the wrong—"
The world detonated.
A roar—not human, not earthly—split the sky, shaking the ground beneath her feet. A burst of gold and crimson light streaked overhead, so bright she threw her hands up to shield her eyes.
The vampire cursed under his breath.
A massive shadow descended through the clouds, wings stretching wide enough to block both moons. Fire crackled along the edges of the silhouette—a dragon, spiraling downward faster than any creature that size should have been able to move.
Aeloria's pulse slammed against her ribs.
A dragon. In Evershade.Impossible.Dragons never left Zephyrion's volcanic mountains.
The vampire stepped in front of her, protective in a way that made no sense. "He's early."
He?
The dragon landed with a thunderous impact that sent shockwaves rolling across the valley. Flames licked across its scales, gold over dark obsidian. The creature bent low, its molten eyes drilling into Aeloria.
Then, impossibly, the dragon shifted.
Fire wrapped around its body like a cocoon, shrinking, folding inward until standing in its place was a man—broad-shouldered, bare-chested, with golden tattoos that pulsed like molten veins. His hair, long and dark, swayed in the smoky air. His gaze—intense and burning—fixed on her with unsettling certainty.
"You found her first, blood-leech," he growled at the vampire."Doesn't change the fact that she's mine."
Aeloria stumbled back, breath torn from her lungs. "What—who—"
But she didn't get to finish.
A third presence emerged from the treeline—a towering figure with eyes like molten amber and a mane of dark curls. His gait was predatory, his muscles carved like a creature built for both war and wilderness.
A Beastborn Alpha.
He exhaled, and the forest shuddered. "Enough posturing." His voice was low, gravelly, dangerous. "We all felt the Mark awaken. She belongs to all of us."
Aeloria froze.
Belongs?To them?What Mark?
"I don't belong to anyone," she snapped, fear sharpening into anger. "I don't even know who you are!"
All three men looked at her.
And at the same time—A brilliant, searing pain exploded across her wrist.
Aeloria screamed and fell to her knees as glowing sigils—red, gold, and wild green—etched themselves into her skin in twisting, ancient patterns.
A prophecy's mark.
A mark tied to vampire blood…dragon flame…and beast spirit.
The vampire knelt beside her, voice tight with awe and fear."It is true, then."
The dragon lord's expression softened, almost reverent."The Celestial Bond lives."
The Beastborn whispered what the others dared not say."She is the key to our world's salvation… or its ruin."
Aeloria stared at the glowing mark on her skin, her breath trembling.
"What am I?"she whispered.
For the first time, none of them had an answer.