Three years passed since Trina received her predecessors' memories, a chain that stretched back to the first Vampire Queen.
It was more than just knowledge; it was a never-ending flow of lives lived, a cocktail of emotions and experiences raging through her consciousness. She struggled under its weight, a sea of victories, failures, and regrets. The memories were not hers, but they persisted within her, vivid and devouring. They would erupt unexpectedly in periods of silence: laughter that wasn't hers, screaming that reverberated through her body, and the crushing anguish of decisions made centuries before her existence.
Among the countless stories in her mind, one stood out above all others—the tale of Lucy Bloodbond, the first Vampire Queen. Her story, both a warning and a cornerstone, a tragic tale of ambition, love, betrayal, and unyielding vengeance.
Lucy was born a commoner, a girl of little consequence in a world where elves ruled with unchallenged supremacy. Their magic defined the social order, and the elves, crowned in glory, stood at its zenith.
Her mother served as an attendant in the court of the Elf King's third daughter, a position that earned them a meager life and the scorn of those around them. Yet even as a child, Lucy burned brighter than the circumstances of her birth. She was a prodigy, wielding fire magic with a ferocity and precision that rivaled even the elven mages. Her flames became a beacon for her people, who lived under the elves' crushing heel, and whispers of her talent began to spread.
One day, she was summoned to the royal court. The grand hall was unlike anything she had ever seen—its walls shimmered with light, glowing faintly as if breathing. The Elf King sat upon his throne, his gaze piercing and calculating. Lucy knelt before him, her head bowed, her heart thundering in her chest.
"Raise your head, child," the king commanded, his voice as calm and imperious as the sea before a storm. "I have heard of your talents, and I offer you an opportunity. Study under the Fire Masters of my kingdom, and your gifts will flourish beyond anything you can imagine."
Lucy's breath caught in her throat. She pressed her forehead to the floor, her voice trembling. "Why would your Majesty extend such kindness to one such as me?"
The king's lips curved into a faint smile. "Even among other races, greatness can emerge. Perhaps, one day, it will bridge the divide between us."
Though wary, Lucy accepted. But her time among the Fire Masters was far from the sanctuary she had envisioned.
The elven students saw her as an intruder, mocking her heritage and belittling her at every turn. They called her names, sabotaged her practice sessions, and whispered cruel words behind her back that often found their way to her ears. Yet Lucy endured. She poured herself into her training, her flames growing brighter, hotter, until even the Fire Masters could not ignore her brilliance. Her mentor began to praise her openly, his admiration a spark that only fueled the resentment of her peers.
Among them, one elf stood apart: Eren. Unlike the others, he offered her kindness in the form of gentle words and quiet support. When others jeered, he would speak up in her defense. When her practice robes were ruined by a cruel prank, he replaced them without a word. Slowly, their friendship deepened. In Eren, Lucy found an unexpected ally—and something more. His laughter warmed her like the sun, his presence a balm to her weary soul. Yet, she kept her growing feelings locked away, fearful of what they might mean in a world so divided.
One moonlit evening, as they walked together through a forest that glowed under the stars, Eren stopped suddenly. He turned to her, his expression unguarded, his eyes searching hers.
"Lucy," he said softly, "I think I'm in love with you."
Her heart faltered, caught between disbelief and a joy so fierce it nearly consumed her. She swallowed hard, her voice a whisper. "I think I'm in love with you too."
Eren's smile was radiant, a light that chased away every shadow in her heart. "Then would you do me the honor of becoming my betrothed?"
Tears welled in Lucy's eyes as she nodded, her voice trembling. For the first time in her life, she felt truly seen—not as a commoner, not as an outsider, but as someone worthy of love.
But their happiness was short-lived. The next day, Lucy learned a truth that shattered her world: Eren was no ordinary elf. He was the fifth son of the Elf King. Her mind reeled, the warmth of his love twisted by the weight of his lineage. Eren swore his love was genuine, promising to convince his father to bless their union. He arranged to meet her that evening in their secret sanctuary.
Lucy waited, her heart heavy with both hope and dread. But when she arrived, it was not Eren who greeted her. A group of elves emerged from the shadows, their faces cold with contempt. Their leader stepped forward, his voice venomous.
"Did you truly think a commoner like you could marry a prince? Did you really think he was in love with you? You disgrace yourself with such delusions. Who do you think sent us here?"
Lucy wanted to say something but she couldn't. Their words poisoned her heart with doubt. Yes, who else other than Eren knew of their secret sanctuary. Was she just a toy that the prince played with in his boredom? Questions flooded her a mind and eventually, Lucy's heart shattered, the image of Eren's smile twisted into something cruel and mocking. She opened her mouth to speak, but there was no time.
Spells rained down on her—fire, water, wind, and earth crashing against her in a torrent of power. She fought back with everything she had, her flames blazing against the onslaught, but she was hopelessly outnumbered. A blast of fire struck her arm, the pain searing through her body. Desperation clawed at her as she turned and fled into the forest, her lungs burning with every breath. They chased her relentlessly, their magic tearing through the trees around her. Finally, she reached a cliff, the ground falling away into a raging river below. Trapped, she turned to face them, defiant even as her body trembled.
Another spell struck Lucy's chest, a searing pulse of energy that sent her staggering backward. The cliff's edge crumbled beneath her heels, and before she could cry out, the ground gave way entirely. She fell, arms flailing, her scream swallowed by the icy roar of the river below.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs, the freezing water enveloping her in an unyielding grip. It dragged her under, spinning her like a leaf caught in a storm. Her body felt weightless, her limbs useless against the current's strength. Her chest burned as she fought for air, but the river showed no mercy. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision, and just before her consciousness faded, she thought of him.
When Lucy woke, she was sprawled on the rocky riverbank, her clothes soaked and clinging to her bruised skin. Her whole body ached, every breath a reminder of her fall. Yet the physical pain paled in comparison to the gaping wound in her heart. Betrayal.
She sat up slowly, her trembling fingers brushing against the soaked fabric of her robes. Her mind replayed the moment that had sent her plummeting—the way her so-called true love had plotted against her. He had promised her everything: love, a future, dreams they could share. But it had all been a lie.
The anguish boiled inside her, twisting into something sharp and unrelenting. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. Love, trust—what use were they? She had given everything, and all it had earned her was pain. The thought festered, feeding a fire that burned hotter with every passing moment. If love had left her broken, then she would rise anew, stronger, and unforgiving.
She stumbled through the forest, her steps uncertain but determined. The trees closed in around her, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. The air grew colder as she wandered deeper, her breath forming clouds in the moonlight. She wasn't sure where she was going, only that something pulled her forward, a whisper at the edge of her consciousness.
And then she saw it: a cave, its entrance wide and jagged, like the open mouth of some great beast. Shadows pooled within, darker than night itself. The sight sent a chill down her spine, but she couldn't stop. The whisper grew louder, a siren song of despair and longing.
As she stepped inside, the air shifted, heavy with an unnatural chill. The damp stone walls glistened faintly, their surfaces slick with moisture. Shadows flickered at the edges of her vision, moving as though alive. The whisper became a hum, then a chorus of murmurs, echoing around her.
"Such sorrow," a voice purred, soft yet sharp, cutting through the darkness like a blade.
Lucy froze. From the shadows emerged a figure, her presence both mesmerizing and terrifying. She was part woman, part beast, her skin pale as moonlight and her wings vast and leathery, their edges shimmering with faint purple light. Her eyes polished obsidian, and her smile sharp, able to draw blood.
"Hmmm," the creature said, inhaling deeply as if savoring the air itself. "What a delicious aroma. Anguish, betrayal… oh, such delectable despair."
Lucy stumbled back a step, her hand instinctively reaching for her staff that wasn't there. "Who—what are you?" she demanded, though her voice wavered.
The creature tilted her head, her smile widening. "I am Malison, Queen of the Dark Fairies," she said, her voice mocking. "And you, child, have summoned me with your grief."
The shadows around Malison shifted, revealing more figures—twisted, ethereal beings with glowing eyes and jagged wings. They lurked just beyond the light, embodying a mix of hunger and malice.
Malison took a step closer, her movements predating prey. "Tell me," she said, her voice soft but commanding. "What is it you seek?"
Lucy's lips parted, but no words came. Her mind raced, torn between fear and the simmering rage that had carried her there. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. "I want power. Power to destroy the elves… power to destroy the one who betrayed me."
The dark fairies hissed and giggled, their voices rising in a discordant symphony. Malison's smile sharpened, her fangs glinting in the dim light. "Ah, revenge," she said, drawing the word out as if savoring its taste. "Such a potent fuel for power. But tell me, little mage, what will you offer in return?"
Lucy's throat tightened. She thought of the love she had lost, the trust that had been shattered. The pain was a gaping wound, raw and unyielding. Her voice was steady when she finally answered. "My heart," she said. "I will never love again."
The fairies fell silent, their whispers replaced by a hushed reverence. Malison's eyes glimmered with something akin to delight. "A bold sacrifice," she said, circling Lucy like a vulture. "Without love, you will find clarity. Strength. But know this: power does not come without consequence. The magic I offer will take root in your soul, but it will come at a cost. Are you prepared to pay the price?"
Lucy hesitated, the weight of the choice pressing down on her. But the memory of the betrayal that had nearly killed her, was a fresh wound. She nodded, her voice firm. "Yes."
Malison extended a clawed hand, the air between them crackling with dark energy. "Then let us seal the pact."
Lucy grasped her hand, and pain exploded through her body. It was as though her very soul was being torn apart and stitched back together with threads of shadow. The warmth of her fire magic was ripped from her, leaving behind a cold, consuming void. In its place, a new power surged—dark and ancient, pulsing with malevolence.
When it was over, Lucy collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving. The dark fairies surrounded her, their whispers reverent now, as though she had become something to be feared and worshipped.
Malison loomed above her, her smile triumphant. "Rise, my queen of shadows," she said. "Go forth and claim what is yours."
Lucy stood, her legs unsteady but her resolve unshaken. The girl who had fallen from the cliff was gone. In her place was something colder, sharper. The world had betrayed her, but she would repay it in kind.
When she returned to her people, they recoiled at first, their eyes wide with fear at the aura of darkness that clung to her. But Lucy's voice was steady, her words cutting through their hesitation like a blade.
"The elves have taken everything from us," she said. "But I have found the power to take it back. Stand with me, and we will burn their cities to the ground."
Though hesitant, they rallied behind her, their fear giving way to grim determination. Lucy led them with unrelenting resolve, her dark magic carving a path of vengeance and destruction. The elves, who had once been untouchable, fell before her wrath. And as the world burned, Lucy felt only the hollow void where her heart had once been.
In time, Lucy took a new name: Lucy Bloodbond, the first Vampire Queen who established the Demon kingdom. But her hatred festered, a wound that never healed. Before her death, she cursed her lineage, decreeing that no male heir would ever be born to her line, a reflection of the betrayal that had defined her life.
Centuries later, she fell to a warrior wielding light magic, her body destroyed but her memories preserved. With her final breath, she passed them to her heir, ensuring that her legacy—and her curse—would endure.
Trina couldn't hold back the tears as she reflected on such a tragic fate, one so similar to her own. Like a floodgate breaking, her own memories surged forward, unbidden and raw.
She had been born in Drania, a bustling town in the Dermot Kingdom, a realm ruled by demonkind. Her father, Joe, was a demi-human—half-human, half-demon—a rarity that made him a target of scorn from both humans and demons. Her mother, Lilian, was a vampire, a demon whose mastery of dark magic allowed her to siphon life energy through blood. Vampires were powerful and feared, even among demons, their supposed immortality tied to their ability to regenerate—so long as their hearts remained intact.
Life in Drania had been harsh. Trina's family endured relentless prejudice: whispered threats, icy glares, and open hostility from neighbors. When Trina was nine, her parents decided to flee, desperate to find sanctuary far from the judgment of others. Their destination was the home of a demon skilled in smuggling demons into human lands, a mage who could disguise their demonic aura and help them blend into human society. Joe could pass as human with effort, but his limited abilities couldn't hide Lilian or Trina, making the mage's help essential.
Their journey, however, ended in tragedy. As they approached the mage's dwelling, a group of armed humans ambushed them. Lilian fought valiantly, her fire magic scorching their attackers, but she was overwhelmed. The humans mutilated her body and burned her heart to ensure she couldn't regenerate. Trina froze in terror, her young mind unable to process the carnage. Pain flared in her chest, and everything went black.
When she woke, she found herself alive but changed. She had inherited her mother's vampiric nature and regenerated, drawing on her father's life energy. But her parents were gone, their lives sacrificed to save hers. The humans, oblivious to her transformation, bound her and delivered her to another demon mage they had sought. Gold exchanged hands, and Trina realized with growing horror that she had been enslaved.
Blindfolded and thrown into a carriage, she endured a grueling journey through the night. When the blindfold was removed, she found herself in a dim, oppressive underground cell. The room was filled with children of various races: elves, beastfolk, and demons. Fear and mistrust hung heavy in the air, with non-demon children shrinking away from the three demon captives. Trina's dark aura, overwhelming for her age, marked her as an outcast even among her own kind.
The captors soon revealed their cruel intentions. A demon known as an Enslaver entered the cell, his aura suffocating. Enslavers wielded dark magic to bind others to their will, and his presence filled Trina with dread. But as terror threatened to paralyze her, a memory of her mother surfaced—Lilian casting Blaze, a fire spell she had used to protect their family.
Desperation gave Trina courage. Trembling, she tried to channel her magic. Her first attempts failed, the sparks fizzling out, but she refused to give up. On her fifth try, fire erupted from her palms, wild and untamed. The flames consumed the cell and spread uncontrollably through the building. Amidst the chaos, the children seized their chance to escape. Despite her youth, Trina became their leader, guiding them through their shared desperation for freedom.
The group fled into the city, eventually finding refuge in an abandoned underground tunnel. Hunger gnawed at them, and Trina ventured out to find food. Her search led her to the estate of Lord Harold Vermont. She slipped into the kitchen, her heart pounding, only to be caught by Harold himself. Expecting punishment—or worse—she was stunned when he offered her food instead of scorn.
He listened to her story with compassion she hadn't known existed. Harold insisted on seeing the other children, and when he did, he ensured they were fed and cared for. He arranged for the human, elf, and beastfolk children to be returned to their families or homelands. But for the demon children and a few others with nowhere to go, he offered sanctuary.
Despite opposition from powerful figures, Harold enrolled them in the military academy, personally overseeing their training to ensure their acceptance. Years of rigorous training forged the children into a cohesive unit skilled in covert operations. Under Harold's command, they carried out dangerous missions requiring precision and discretion.
When Harold retired, the unit disbanded, and many of its members followed him to the quiet village he now called home. Trina stayed by his side, serving as one of his maids. She had many from her old days, such as Maggie and Edward also serving with her in different capacities. To the outside world, she was just another servant. But in her heart, she carried the weight of her past and the deep gratitude she felt for the man who had saved her.
Her demon identity, though hidden, was a constant reminder of her journey—the hardships she had endured, the sacrifices her parents had made, and the hope Harold had given her. She wore her scars not as a symbol of pain but of resilience, a testament to the life she had reclaimed.
She wanted to do all she could now to shield Rae, from the dangers of her new demon form, taking care of her just like how Harold had taken care of she. They isolated her to give her the necessary skills and shield her from prejudice of her new identity, hopeful that she won't suffer like how Trina did.