The throne room of the vampire palace was a cavern of opulent dread, its high vaulted ceilings adorned with chandeliers of crystal and bone, casting fractured light across walls lined with ancient tapestries depicting bloody conquests. Today, it served as a court of judgment, filled with the stifled breaths of council members, guards, and a handful of nobles who dared not whisper. At the center of it all sat Lord Primus—Lucian—upon his obsidian throne, a figure of unyielding authority. His royal robe of deep crimson silk flowed over his broad frame like spilled blood, embroidered with silver runes that seemed to pulse with dark energy. His long black hair fell unbound to his shoulders, framing a face that could have been sculpted by gods or demons. But it was his eyes—burning crimson, like embers in the abyss—that pierced the souls of all present, instilling a primal fear that made hearts stutter and knees weaken.
Vera was hauled before him by two armored guards, her once-elegant gown now tattered and stained with the grime of her cell. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back with iron chains that bit into her pale skin, drawing thin lines of blood. One guard shoved her roughly forward, forcing her to her knees on the cold marble floor with a thud that echoed through the silent hall. She lifted her head defiantly, her dark eyes meeting Lucian's gaze, a mix of hatred and lingering obsession flickering in them.
"You committed treason," Lucian intoned, his voice a low rumble that carried the weight of centuries. He gripped the hilt of his ancestral sword, resting across his lap, its blade etched with runes that glowed faintly. "For conspiring to assassinate my bride, you are sentenced to death. I granted you mercy in ages past—centuries of chances you squandered. Not this time."
A gasp rippled through the room, but it was Vera's mother—his distant aunt by ancient blood ties—who threw herself forward first. She collapsed to her knees beside her daughter, her wrinkled hands clasped in desperate supplication, tears carving paths down her weathered cheeks. "My lord, please! Spare her! At least grant us permission to investigate fully. I promise—I swear on my eternal life—I will take her far from the palace, far from you, this time!"
Lucian did not deign to look at her. His gaze remained fixed on Vera, unblinking. "Spare her life? That is impossible, dear aunt. Unless you wish to take her place on the executioner's block."
Morwen, standing nearby in her hooded cloak, stepped forward with a sob, her voice breaking. "What if it is a lie? What if someone is framing her? You cannot—"
"Enough!" Lucian's bellow shook the room like thunder, his fangs flashing in the light. The chandeliers swayed slightly. "You dare call your king a liar?"
The accusation hung in the air like a noose. Vera, seizing the moment, began to crawl forward on her knees, chains rattling against the marble. Her bound hands twisted futilely behind her, but her eyes burned with a mad fervor as she neared the dais. "Primus… Lucian… you know I did it for us," she rasped, her voice laced with delusion. "I have always loved you. Do you remember? When you took me to your bed all those years ago—I was still a virgin, untouched by any other. You whispered how beautiful my hair was, how it shone like raven wings under the moonlight. We were meant to be together. But everything changed when that bitch Ruelle slithered into your life—"
"Enough!" Lucian roared again, rising halfway from his throne, sword in hand. The air grew thick with his rage, shadows seeming to deepen around him.
But Vera was undeterred, her words spilling like poison from a broken vial. "I will kill that human slut Hazel if it means being close to you again—"
Those were her final words.
In a blur of supernatural speed, Lucian vanished from the throne and reappeared before her, his form a streak of darkness. His hand, claws extended like razor-sharp talons, plunged straight through her chest with a gruesome crack of ribs shattering. Vera's eyes bulged in shock as his fingers wrapped around her still-thrumming heart. With a savage yank, he tore it free, blood erupting in a hot spray that spattered across the marble and his robe. He held the organ aloft for a split second, its frantic beats slowing in his grip, before crushing it in his fist like overripe fruit. Crimson gore oozed between his fingers, and he flung the mangled remains aside with contempt, where it landed with a wet slap against the floor.
Vera's face froze in eternal horror—mouth agape, eyes wide with disbelief—as blood poured from her lips and nostrils in thick rivulets. She coughed once, a gurgling, desperate sound, her gaze locked on the man she had loved obsessively, now her executioner. Her body swayed, then slumped forward, lifeless, chains clanking one last time.
The room erupted in a piercing scream.
"Vera! Vera!" Her mother lunged forward, collapsing over her daughter's body, cradling the bloodied form in her arms. She rocked back and forth, wailing inconsolably, her hands staining red as she clutched Vera's cooling corpse. "My child… my only child…"
Then grief twisted into fury. Morwen lifted her head, eyes blazing with unbridled hatred. "You monster! I hate you! How dare you kill her? She has always loved you—devoted her life to you—and you repay her with death? You heartless beast!"
Lucian calmly wiped the blood from his hand with a pristine white handkerchief, folding it neatly afterward as if the act had been a mere inconvenience. His voice was silk over steel, deceptively soft. "Careful, aunt. You are already old. Perhaps you grow lonely without your husband… and now your daughter. I could reunite you with them, if you insist."
Morwen recoiled, her screams dying to whimpers as she clung tighter to Vera's body.
Lucian turned his back on the scene. "Lazarus," he commanded, his loyal servant stepping forward from the shadows.
"Yes, my lord."
"Behead every servant who has ever attended Lady Hazel. Slaughter the families of those who aided in her kidnapping at the market—leave no one alive. Then summon every maid and manservant in the palace. Proclaim the new edict: any who defy me or raise a hand against my bride will be beheaded, along with their entire bloodline."
With that, he strode from the hall, the hem of his robe trailing through the pooling blood, leaving behind a room frozen in terror.
Tobias lingered in the alcove, hidden from view. His face was ashen, fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. He had loved Vera in secret for centuries—watching her from afar, admiring her fire, her unyielding passion. Now, she was gone, her body dragged away by indifferent guards as servants rushed in with mops to erase the evidence. Grief and rage boiled within him, but he swallowed it down. Vengeance would come later.
──
In Hazel's chamber, the air was thick with unease. New maids flitted about like ghosts, their faces pale and hands unsteady as they adjusted curtains or poured fresh water. They avoided eye contact, whispering only when they thought she could not hear. Hazel sensed the shift immediately—something dark had transpired, casting a shadow over the palace.
She retreated to her washroom to splash water on her face, but paused at the door when snippets of gossip floated in.
"…ripped her heart right out, he did… in front of everyone…"
"…all because she threatened Lady Hazel…"
"…ruthless, our lord is. Vera's blood still stains the throne room floor…"
Hazel's heart sank. Vera—dead? And because of her?
She marched out, intent on confronting Lucian in his chambers, but met him halfway in the corridor. He was freshly bathed, the scent of soap and sandalwood clinging to him, his expression softening at the sight of her.
"My lord," she said, bowing slightly.
"My lord?" he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Why did you kill Vera?" she demanded, voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
"Because it was her time to die," he replied without a trace of remorse, brushing past her toward her chamber.
Hazel followed, undeterred. "That is no explanation."
As they entered her rooms, the servants scattered like frightened cats, bowing low and fleeing without a word. Lucian sat on the edge of her bed and patted the space beside him.
Hazel complied, but maintained a deliberate distance.
"I killed her for you," he said nonchalantly, as if discussing a minor matter. "She hired assassins to end your life. She deserved death."
Hazel's eyes widened. "She was behind the kidnapping?"
"No," he admitted. "That was another's doing—I have suspects, but proof eludes me yet. Vera's scheme was separate. I slaughtered her assassins before they could strike."
He noticed the gap between them. "Scared of me now?"
Hazel shifted closer, her shoulder brushing his. "From now on, no killing. If you must take a life, seek my permission first. Disobey, and I will leave you."
Lucian stared, then burst into laughter—a deep, melodic sound that transformed his fierce features into something breathtakingly beautiful.
Hazel crossed her arms, forcing a stern expression.
When he saw her seriousness, the laughter ceased. "As you wish, little rabbit. I promise."
"Lucian," she continued, curiosity overtaking her, "about the cave… I never knew I had such abilities. I must speak to my father."
"He arrives before nightfall or tomorrow morning."
"I want to show you something." She raised her hand and flicked her fingers. Instantly, flames sprang to life in every chandelier, bathing the room in warm, golden light.
Lucian went rigid, shock etching his features. Ruelle, he thought, staring at her. Those were Ruelle's gifts—command over fire and lightning. If Hazel remembered her past life, would she despise him? Or was he the one owed anger for the curse that bound him in a coffin for centuries?
"You are truly special," he said, recovering. "Never doubt it." He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly.
"I love you, Lucian," she whispered.
The words ignited joy in him—she had fallen, truly. Excitement thrummed in his veins.
She leaned in, kissing him deeply. He responded with fervor, fangs grazing her neck before piercing gently. He drank, savoring her essence, and she moaned, loving the rush of pleasure his bite ignited.
"I want to give you a gift," he murmured huskily, dropping to his knees before her, hands sliding up her thighs. "For being my good girl."
A knock interrupted. A servant entered hesitantly, bearing a sealed letter. "A message for you, my lady."
Lucian rose in a flash, dagger drawn, eyes murderous.
Hazel grabbed his arm. "No killing, Lucian. For nearly disobeying, return to your chamber—that is your punishment."
He glared, but obeyed, stalking out with restrained fury.
Hazel dismissed the servant, who stared in wide-eyed astonishment at how the fearsome king bent to his bride-to-be's will.