The night wrapped the streets in silence.
Zephrine moved quickly through the narrow alley, her dark cape tied tightly around her shoulders. A small lamp flickered in her hand, its weak glow barely pushing back the shadows. Every step echoed too loudly, as if the darkness itself was listening.
Her breath came uneven.
"It has to be here… somewhere," she murmured, scanning the ground. "How could I possibly lose it?"
Her fingers tightened. The royal pendant wasn't just jewelry—it was identity, power… and danger if found by the wrong hands.
She retraced her steps from the academy, eyes darting from corner to corner, heart pounding harder with each passing second.
Then—
A faint glimmer.
"There…!"
Relief rushed through her as she hurried forward, kneeling down. The pendant lay half-hidden in the dust, its surface glowing faintly, almost… alive.
"Oh God—you scared me."
She picked it up carefully. Even in the dim light, it shimmered with an unnatural glow, magic humming softly beneath its surface.
For a moment, she just stared at it.
Then, without hesitation, she slipped it back around her neck.
Safe.
Zephrine exhaled and turned to leave.
But just as she stepped away—
A sound.
A choked cry.
She froze.
Another cough—weak, desperate.
"…please… let me go…"
Zephrine's grip tightened around the lamp.
Slowly, cautiously, she moved toward the next street.
What she saw made her stop.
A woman knelt on the ground, her pale skin almost ghostly under the faint moonlight. Her hands clutched her throat, fingers trembling as if she had just escaped someone's grip. She struggled to breathe, coughing violently.
Something felt… wrong.
Dangerous.
And yet—
Zephrine stepped forward.
"Hey… what happened?" she asked softly. "Are you okay?"
The woman's head snapped toward her.
Even in the darkness, her eyes glinted—sharp, alert.
"You shouldn't be here," the woman said, her voice low, strained. "Why are you here?"
Zephrine frowned, taking another step closer.
"I want to help you. Please… stand up."
But the woman wasn't looking at her anymore.
She was staring into the darkness behind them.
"No," she said quickly. "I don't need your help. Just go."
Zephrine shook her head, concern overpowering caution.
"I can't leave you like this. You're in pain—"
"I said GO!"
The woman's voice snapped through the air, sharp and sudden.
The flame of Zephrine's lamp flickered wildly.
And for a split second—
The shadows behind them shifted.
Before Zephrine could step back—
She felt it.
A presence.
Sudden. Overwhelming.
An aura pressed in behind her, trapping her in place like an invisible cage. A tall, firm body stood just inches away. She could feel the faint brush of fabric… the warmth of his chest almost touching her back—
No.
Not warmth.
Cold.
Unnaturally cold.
A sharp scent surrounded her—dark, expensive, unfamiliar. Her breath hitched as she felt it—
A breath near her ear.
Ice-cold.
"Going somewhere?"
The voice was low. Husky. Dangerous.
Every instinct inside her screamed.
Run.
Her muscles tensed, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs. She didn't think—she moved.
Zephrine bolted forward.
One step. Two. Three—
Before she could take the fifth—
He was already there.
Standing right in front of her.
Her breath stopped.
He was tall—easily over six feet—his presence towering, suffocating. Dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead, partially shadowing his face. But his eyes—
Deep.
Blood red.
They locked onto hers like a predator watching its prey.
His features were sharp, almost unreal. Beautiful in a way that made her chest tighten—
And terrified her all the same.
Zephrine froze.
Her body trembled, unable to decide whether to run… or collapse.
A faint sound left his lips.
"Uh-uh…" he murmured, almost amused. "You can't run like that after showing up."
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Then crouched slightly, lowering himself to her level, his gaze never leaving hers.
"Too late."
Behind her, the woman's voice broke through, desperate—
"She has nothing to do with you! Let her go!"
The man chuckled.
Soft.
Dark.
Dangerously charming.
The sound sent a shiver down Zephrine's spine.
"True…" he said slowly, glancing back for a second. "She had nothing to do with me."
His eyes returned to Zephrine.
Something in them shifted.
"But now…" he added, voice dropping, "that changes."
Zephrine instinctively stepped back.
He stepped forward.
Every step she took—he matched.
"In the dark… in Arkanis…" he murmured, almost thoughtfully. "Why?"
A faint smile curved his lips.
"It was your fate, darling."
Her back hit something solid.
Cold stone.
A wall.
No more space.
Her breathing turned shallow, uneven. Words refused to come out. Her voice—gone.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her.
"Are you mute?"
Behind them, the woman tried to rise again.
"You can't—"
The man didn't even look at her.
He simply lifted a finger.
The air shifted.
The woman was yanked upward, suspended midair, her hands flying to her throat as an invisible force tightened around it.
She choked.
Gasping.
"Don't interfere," he said coldly.
With a flick of his hand, she was thrown aside, crashing back to the ground.
Silence fell again.
Then—
He stepped closer to Zephrine.
Closer.
Until she was completely trapped.
His hands came up, pressing against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.
No escape.
"I asked you something," he said softly, leaning in.
His voice dropped to a whisper near her ear.
"Can you speak… sweetheart?"
Zephrine's entire body trembled.
Her heart raced so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
Slowly—
She nodded.
And something dark flickered in his eyes.
Something that made it very clear—
That was exactly what he wanted.His gaze slowly dropped.
And then—
It stopped.
On her neck.
The pendant.
A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips.
His fangs glinted faintly in the dim light.
Sharp.
Lethal.
Zephrine's breath hitched.
He lifted his hand.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His fingers brushed against the royal pendant, tracing its surface… before sliding lower, just barely grazing her skin.
The touch was cold.
But it burned.
A strange sense of possession lingered in the way his fingers moved—like he already owned what he was touching.
Zephrine swallowed hard.
The movement didn't go unnoticed.
His eyes flickered up instantly, catching it.
Watching her.
Studying her.
Enjoying it.
Her lamp flickered weakly somewhere behind them, casting just enough light for her to see them—
Those fangs.
A vampire.
The realization hit her like a shockwave.
No…
Her mind spiraled.
Vampires… they weren't supposed to be like this…
Everything she had believed—shattered in an instant.
He wasn't what she had imagined.
He was worse.
Much worse.
His finger paused at her throat, right where she had swallowed.
Then slowly… he looked back into her eyes.
"A royal… huh?"
His voice was almost amused.
"Didn't expect a trembling royal."
His smirk deepened.
"So tell me, sweetheart…" he leaned in slightly, voice dropping, "which royal are you?"
Zephrine's lips parted—
But no sound came out.
Fear held her voice hostage.
His expression darkened just a fraction.
"I don't repeat myself."
He stepped closer—
And something inside her snapped.
"The youngest princess… Zephrine."
The words rushed out, breathless.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
"Zephrine…" he repeated slowly, rolling her name over his tongue as if tasting it.
A dangerous softness crept into his tone.
"That explains it."
His gaze swept over her.
" The youngest ones are always… spoiled."
His eyes flicked briefly toward the woman lying on the ground, still gasping weakly.
Then back to her.
"So, princess…" he murmured, tilting his head, "shall I take you?"
A pause.
His red eyes darkened.
"Are you worth it?"
Zephrine's heart pounded violently.
Please don't…
No… please…
Her thoughts spiraled, desperate and loud—
Too loud.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
Low.
Knowing.
"Looks like you're not willing," he said softly.
Her breath caught.
He… heard that?
"But guess what…" he continued, voice turning darker, "I don't think I can let an opportunity like this go."
He reached up, gently catching a strand of her hair between his fingers.
Lifting it.
Admiring it.
"Who could possibly walk away…" he murmured, almost to himself, "…from a beauty like you?"
His fingers slid through the strand slowly.
"Deep red…" he whispered.
"Dark as blood."
His eyes met hers again.
And then—
He winked.
"Beautiful…" he murmured, his gaze darkening as it lingered on her.
"Looking at you… it feels like your blood would taste just as sweet."
His fingers slid through her hair again, slowly moving the strand aside—exposing her shoulder.
Zephrine's breath hitched.
No.
She couldn't just stand here.
She couldn't—
Before her fear could freeze her again, she shoved him with both hands and stumbled away, putting distance between them. Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out.
"You can't do that—I… I will—"
He raised an eyebrow, amused.
"What, princess?" he said softly. "What will you do?"
Her hands clenched.
"I… will fight you."
For a second—
Silence.
Then a low, dark chuckle escaped him.
"How, sweetheart?"
Zephrine hesitated.
She had no weapon.
No plan.
But she closed her eyes for a brief moment, focusing—trying to recall what she had been taught.
Summon it… steady your mind…
She raised her hand—
And summoned.
A flash of light—
And then…
A stick.
A thin, wooden stick.
She froze.
He stared at it.
Then—
He burst out laughing.
A deep, uncontrollable laugh that echoed through the empty street. He actually wiped at the corner of his eye, still chuckling.
"Oh, princess…" he breathed. "You are something."
His grin widened.
"You made me laugh after decades."
He gestured lazily toward the stick.
"So what are you going to do with that, hm?" His tone dripped with mockery. "Kill me? Go on… have a try. I think I might die."
Fear crept back in.
Her grip loosened.
And she threw the stick away.
No.
Again.
She shut her eyes, forcing herself to focus—harder this time.
You can do this…
Energy surged through her.
A stronger glow.
And this time—
A sword appeared in her hand.
Royal.
Elegant.
Dark metal gleaming under the faint light, power pulsing along its edge as if alive—responding to her.
He stopped laughing.
His expression shifted.
Now… there was interest.
"Well," he said quietly, straightening. "Now this is getting interesting."
But Zephrine's grip tightened.
Too tight.
Her breathing was uneven.
She didn't know how to use it.
Not really.
Panic flickered across her mind—
And he saw it.
Of course he did.
A slow smile curved his lips.
Then—
He vanished.
Zephrine's eyes widened.
Her head snapped left. Then right.
Nothing.
Only silence.
Her grip on the sword faltered.
"W-where—"
A breath.
Cold.
Right near her ear.
"Boo."
"Aaah!"
She gasped, stumbling back—
But before she could react—
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.
Firm.
Unyielding.
In one swift motion, he pulled her closer—
Too fast.
Too strong.
Then—
Pain.
Sharp.
Sudden.
His fangs sank into her shoulder.
Zephrine cried out, her body going rigid as the cold burned through her veins.
His grip tightened just slightly, holding her in place.
"Rest now… sweetheart," he whispered against her skin.
No one knew what would happen will shw survive or not?