Ariella
Thornhill,
Vankar Island
Northern Isle Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 11th 6414
10:53 pm
"What do you think of it?" Lily asked, her voice soft yet curious as she turned the music off. The song we'd just listened to was Anarchy in the UK, one of the most iconic tracks from the album. The rebellious energy of the song still thrummed in my veins—I'd been dancing the entire time, swaying to the jagged rhythms and sharp vocals.
Lily had watched me the whole while, her eyes twinkling with amusement as I let loose. I hadn't paid her much mind as I lost myself in the music, but now her question hung in the air. I flopped onto the armchair closest to the fireplace, still catching my breath, as Lily sat across from me, waiting for my response.
"It's amazing," I said, my voice warm with enthusiasm. "It's raw and unapologetic… like the music is daring you to feel something." I paused, reflecting on the day. It had been one of the best I'd had in a long while.
We'd been back at the mansion for about an hour, enough time for the afterglow of our town exploration to settle in. Earlier, Neil and Ben had taken us to the drifter district, a lively stretch of historic stone and brick buildings packed with antique shops, charming boutiques, and a sprinkling of well-known retail stores. With Remembrance Day just around the corner, shopkeepers were busy putting up decorations—streamers, wreaths, and banners—all adding a festive energy to the air.
After a leisurely stroll, Neil brought us to Harold's Drive Diner, his favorite local spot. He swore by the hamburgers, and after tasting one, I had to admit he wasn't exaggerating. Juicy, flavorful, and topped with just the right amount of sauce—it was easily the best burger I'd had in years. With satisfied stomachs, we meandered over to Griffin's Park. There, under the fading daylight, we abandoned any pretense of maturity and played on the swings like carefree kids. The cool evening air whipped around us as we swung higher and higher, laughing until the streetlights blinked on.
Eventually, Lily and Ben decided it was time to call it a day. As we walked back to the edge of town, Neil and I exchanged contacts. We agreed that, as partners for the Dungeon raid, we'd need to coordinate strategy sessions and decide when to venture into the depths. For the first time in a long while, I felt a genuine spark of camaraderie. These weren't just strangers in a new town—they were starting to feel like friends.
Now, in the warm glow of the firelight, I couldn't help but smile. The music, the day's adventures, the new faces I'd come to know—it all made me feel lighter somehow. I looked over at Lily. She was waiting patiently, her expression unreadable yet calm. I leaned back in the chair, the flames casting flickering shadows across the room.
"I'm glad we went out today," I added, almost more to myself than to her. "It feels good to have something… different. Something real." Lily nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. She didn't have to say anything; I knew she felt the same.
I reached for the glass of synth blood that Hector had prepared for me when we got back. The hamburger and ice cream I'd had earlier were still sitting heavy in my stomach, but they didn't quiet the deeper craving gnawing at me. I had been pushing down the hunger for hours, and the longer the night wore on, the harder it was to ignore. Lily had noticed the strain in me and insisted we head home sooner rather than later.
"You know," Lily said, her voice thoughtful as she stared at the flames in the fireplace, "they were responsible for revolutionizing punk music back then. There was no one like them, not in the history of popular music. Not even today."
I swirled the dark liquid in my glass before taking a measured sip, letting the familiar taste calm me just a little. "I can see that," I replied. "But I was never into music the way you were. Probably because my mom forced me into piano lessons when all I wanted to do was play outside with the other kids."
Lily nodded slightly, a hint of a smile flickering on her face. "Yeah, I remember that."
The mention of my mother brought an ache that was as deep as it was familiar. Unlike my father and brothers—whose bodies I'd seen reduced to ash—my mother's fate remained a painful unknown. I had searched for her in the chaos before Sanders found Lily and me, pulling us from the burning palace. I had fought him with everything I had, determined to go back for her, consumed by fury at the thought that I'd left her behind.
"You didn't abandon her," Lily said softly, breaking into my thoughts. Her gaze was still fixed on the flames. "I was the one who dragged you out of there. If anyone abandoned her, it was me."
I felt a tear slip down my cheek and land in my lap, the start of an emotional tide I struggled to keep at bay. Vampirism had a way of intensifying everything, and sometimes it felt like my emotions teetered on the edge of overwhelming. But Lily was the tether that kept me from losing control. Her presence alone kept me grounded, and though she couldn't hear all my thoughts, moments like this made me glad of it.
"Thank you, Lil," I murmured. The words were inadequate for the storm of gratitude I felt. I told myself once again that worrying over my mother would change nothing. She was gone—like the rest of them. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I finished the glass of synth blood. I knew I could shut my feelings down if I wanted to, seal them off like a dam, but Lily had taught me better. She'd taught me that feeling—truly feeling—was not a weakness.
Before I could say more, the front door creaked open and Sanders stepped into the room. He glanced at us, his usual stern expression softened by what might have been faint amusement.
"Oh, there you are," he said. "I heard you girls went to town."
"We did," Lily replied brightly. Then her tone shifted, taking on a sharper edge. "Speaking of which, did you know someone was murdered recently?"
I turned toward her, confused. "Wait, how do you know it was murder? I thought he died in the Dungeon."
"I just know. It's a gut feeling," Lily said with certainty.
I didn't push her for an explanation. Lily's instincts had always been sharp, often leading her to truths no one else could see. She went quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. "Plus, ever since we arrived in this town, something has felt… off."
Sanders exhaled through his nose, his face tightening. "The Association informed me there was a stampede of magic beasts in the Dungeon. The poor soul got caught in it."
Lily was on her feet in an instant. She crossed the room in a few determined strides and jabbed her finger into Sanders's chest. "That's not what I meant, Sanders," she said firmly, the fire in her eyes unmistakable.
I wasn't surprised by her boldness. Any other human might have earned a swift rebuke—or worse—from Sanders for a gesture like that, but Lily wasn't ordinary. And Sanders, for all his authority, didn't push her away. Instead, he watched her silently, his expression unreadable.
"You said this place was the safest for us," Lilith said, her voice sharp as she jabbed a finger into Sanders's chest. "That no one would ever think to look for us here." She leaned closer, her intensity practically daring him to deny it. "And yet, as soon as we arrive, someone just happens to end up dead."
Sanders shifted his cold gaze downward, his eyes locking on the finger pressing against him. He remained perfectly still, his body a wall of rigid control. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured. "Thornhill is the safest place for the Princess," he hissed. "The R.E.T.U won't think to look for her here. All you have to do is keep her safe while you explore the Dungeon. That's something you can manage, isn't it?"
Lilith straightened, narrowing her eyes. "Of course I can."
"Good." Sanders stepped back, brushing invisible dust from his lapel. "We won't be here long. A year, perhaps—just enough time to complete the preparations."
"Preparations for what?" Lilith's voice carried a mix of frustration and curiosity.
I glanced between the two of them. Sanders always kept us on a need-to-know basis, and it grated on me more than I cared to admit. I could sense the deeper reason we were here, lingering like an unspoken truth just out of reach. But Sanders never wavered in his approach.
"You'll find out when the time is right," he said, his tone final. "For now, just keep your heads down and stick to the story we've given. We'll be here for a year, no more. You, Lilith, have one job: keep the Princess safe from all threats. Leave the rest to me."
Lilith growled softly, her lips curling in defiance, but she withdrew her hand. Her eyes never left Sanders as he turned on his heel and strode away. I exhaled slowly as the tension in the room ebbed, but it was clear Lilith wasn't done bristling. She crossed her arms and glared after him until his footsteps faded into silence.
"Well," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "I guess it's time for bed."
Lilith nodded, and we made our way up the staircase side by side. The hallway above was quieter, the weight of the day settling in around us. As we reached our rooms, Lilith gave me a brief squeeze on the hand before heading to hers. I lingered a moment, watching her ascend the next flight of stairs until she disappeared around the corner.
I stood by my own door, my ear attuned to the faint sounds of her movements. The soft creak of her door opening, the muffled click as it closed—it all gave me a small sense of reassurance. Only when I was sure she was safely inside did I begin to open my door.
That's when I heard it.
"Help me."
The voice froze me mid-motion, but not with fear. It was more of a strange familiarity, a peculiar echo of something I couldn't quite place. Slowly, I turned, my pulse quickening. The figure standing outside my door was just as I had seen that morning: a childlike form, faintly translucent. It wore the same cardigan sweater and gray shorts, but now I could make out its hair. It wasn't brown as I'd first thought, but a deep, inky black. The long, curly strands framed a face that was hard to discern through its spectral glow. Boy? Girl? It was hard to tell.
"It hurts."
The words sent a chill through me, not because they were frightening, but because of the plaintive, aching tone. My mind jumped to the ice cream shop owner's offhand comment about the mansion's supposed hauntings. It had seemed like a harmless local legend at the time. Still, the thought nagged at me: could ghosts linger? Could they have regrets so heavy they stayed tethered to the world?
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "How can I help you?" I asked quietly.
At first, there was no answer. The silence stretched out, and I began to wonder if I'd imagined the whole thing. Then, the child slowly raised a translucent hand and pointed.
Toward the study.
"Answers… help… too dark… it burns…"
A brilliant white light burst around me, so sudden and overwhelming that I barely had time to react. The world disappeared in the glare, and I felt myself caught in it—like being pulled into a dream that wasn't my own.
****
"Ella! Ella!" Lil's voice cut through the haze clouding my mind. "Hey, are you alright?"
I blinked hard, as if trying to physically clear the fog that had settled over my thoughts. Slowly, I began to take in my surroundings. The room was starkly lit, with sleek walls of polished stone and gleaming metal, a faint hum of machinery thrumming beneath the surface. The fog in my mind was finally lifting, though not entirely. Bits and pieces of my memory were still fuzzy, still out of reach.
I could recall fragments—the ghost outside my room, the blinding white light that had enveloped me. After that, everything blurred. I vaguely remembered Lil waking me up, her concerned voice pulling me from sleep. I remembered breakfast, though the details of what we'd eaten were hazy. Then there was Neil and Ben waiting for us outside the Dungeon Association building. Now, here we were: inside the building, standing before the receptionist's desk.
Something about the bright interior and the faint antiseptic scent made the air feel unnaturally crisp. This wasn't just any office space—it was designed for efficiency, security, and an undercurrent of authority. Behind the desk stood a woman with a practiced, professional air, her black two-piece suit immaculate, her expression polite but firm.
"I'm fine," I said quietly, trying to shake off the lingering sense of disorientation. Lil glanced at me for a moment, her sharp gaze assessing, before she turned back to the receptionist.
"As I was saying," the receptionist continued, her tone measured but unyielding, "unless you are an Ascendant, we cannot issue you a license. Our sensors don't detect any cultivation energy in you, so I'm afraid I can't approve it."
That was the unexpected problem.
Lil wasn't an Ascendant. She didn't possess the traits required to cultivate the magical or martial energies the Association recognized. She didn't have an awakened soul core, nor could she perform Mana Arts or spells. To anyone looking at her with a scanning device, she appeared completely ordinary—just a human without the spark of cultivation or the flow of mana.
Except I knew better.
I'd lived with Lil for eight years, and she was anything but ordinary. Lilith Kain had always been exceptional. She didn't rely on the cultivation techniques the rest of us used; instead, her strength came from a special physique and a unique bloodline. She possessed an innate power that put her on par with martial cultivators, even though she never drew upon any mystical energy.
"That's ridiculous," Ben said, his voice sharp. He stepped forward, his combat uniform catching the light. The sleek silver fabric marked him as a Body cultivator, someone who specialized in physical enhancement through Essence refinement. I wore a similar uniform, though mine was a vibrant cyan. Ben folded his arms, clearly unimpressed by the receptionist's insistence. "I sensed a surge of power from her yesterday. Are you sure you're not hiding your strength?"
He turned to Lil, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Lil, standing tall and steady, simply shook her head.
"Sorry, but the sensor's right," Lilith said, her voice steady and unfazed. "I don't do that cultivation bullshit or whatever…" She let her words hang in the air for a moment, giving Ben enough time to absorb the shock of what she'd just said. Then, with a cold, unwavering gaze that seemed to cut through the room's stale air, she continued, "…but I can still kill most of the warriors in this building."
Her tone was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it felt like a declaration of the weather—except the atmosphere had shifted. The room seemed to chill, the weight of her words sinking into everyone present. Then, without warning, a crushing pressure filled the space.
It wasn't a physical force, but it might as well have been. Everyone except me staggered beneath it. Raiders in the room tensed, their instincts screaming danger. Conversations faltered, and heads turned toward her. Even Ben, usually full of bravado, froze under the sudden intensity, his earlier cockiness evaporating. The crystal sphere on the receptionist's desk—a device specifically designed to detect energy flow—shattered with a sharp crack, unable to withstand the force radiating from Lil.
"Such murderous intent…" the receptionist murmured, her eyes glued to the cracked sensor on her screen. She glanced back at Lil with a mix of disbelief and caution. "How many lives have you taken?"
Lil shrugged, her shoulders barely moving. "A…few." Her voice was quiet, almost indifferent, but the words landed like a punch.
The receptionist—her name tag read Alethia—stared at Lil, squinting slightly as if trying to decipher a puzzle. With a sharp intake of breath, Alethia's senses reached out to Lil's aura. What she found was as baffling as it was unnerving: no mana flowed within her, and her Soul Core—the telltale sign of an Ascendant—was dormant. Yet there was something else. Some force, some presence, radiated from Lilith, setting off warning bells in Alethia's mind. It wasn't cultivation energy, but it was potent and unmistakable.
"Follow me," Alethia said, her professional mask firmly in place. She turned to another worker behind the counter and whispered something too quiet to hear. Then she moved swiftly to a nearby door, beckoning us to follow. "Come with me."
Lilith glanced at me, her expression unreadable, and then we both stepped forward. Neil and Ben exchanged a look but trailed behind, their earlier bravado noticeably muted. We filed into an elevator, the quiet hum of its descent doing little to ease the tension. Alethia led us down to a lower level, the atmosphere becoming cooler and quieter with each passing floor.
When the doors slid open, Alethia led us into a large room that looked more like a training facility than a standard office. The walls were lined with observation cameras, their dark lenses gleaming in the sterile overhead light. In the center was a fighting podium—an arena clearly designed for physical trials or demonstrations. The air smelled faintly of metal and disinfectant, the same scent you'd find in a well-used gym.
Alethia gestured toward the podium. "Wait here," she said briskly, then disappeared through another door without waiting for a response.
As soon as she was gone, silence stretched through the room. Neil paced nervously along one wall, his shoulders tight with tension. Ben stood off to the side, casting wary glances at Lil. It was clear they were both uneasy—understandable, given what had just happened upstairs. Lil had unleashed her killing intent so effortlessly, so naturally, that it left an impression. Even now, she seemed calm, her arms crossed as she casually leaned against a wall.
Neil finally broke the silence. "Are you not a cultivator?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. He paused his pacing to look at her directly. "Because yesterday, I could've sworn I sensed something. Some kind of power."
Ben nodded slightly, though he remained quiet, his expression unreadable.
Lil let out a short laugh. It wasn't mocking, but it wasn't particularly friendly, either.
"Do I look like I have mana?" Lil asked dryly, her voice carrying the faintest edge of sarcasm.
Mana—the refined product of Spirit Energy drawn from the Spirit Essence in the atmosphere—was the cornerstone of cultivation. Once an Ascendant awakened their Soul Core, they could channel this energy and shape it, choosing either the path of Magic cultivation to become a Mage or the physical discipline of Body cultivation to become a Mana Artist. Lil, however, had no such connection. She couldn't harness mana, couldn't perform any of the intricate techniques associated with it.
And yet, despite her lack of traditional cultivation, she radiated a power that was undeniable. Ben and Neil—especially Ben—could feel it, though they couldn't quite define what it was. Lil, for her part, seemed completely unbothered by the puzzled looks directed her way. Her signature devilish smile spread across her face as she sauntered up onto the podium, casually surveying the room like it was hers to command.
The heavy door swung open behind us, and Alethia returned—this time accompanied by another figure. The newcomer was a young man, though his reluctant demeanor made it clear he wasn't thrilled about being there. His combat suit was striking: black and orange leather accented with protective armor pads, a long, sharp sword hanging from the belt at his waist. His brown hair was slicked back, highlighting a series of faint scars that crisscrossed his otherwise handsome face.
Even without looking directly at him, I could feel the strength rolling off him like waves. His aura was sharp and forceful, a constant reminder that he was no stranger to battle.
"Hmph," Lil muttered under her breath. She didn't bother masking her distaste for the young man's show of presence.
"So," he began, his voice low and laced with casual arrogance, "who will I be testing?" His sharp gaze flicked over me, then landed on Ben. That smirk of his—too confident, too self-assured—immediately set my teeth on edge. "The vampire girl doesn't look half bad. Or the lycan boy—he seems promising."
"Sorry, Maximus," Alethia interrupted, her tone calm and composed. "You'll be facing Lith Rochester."
Maximus's smirk vanished in an instant. He turned his full attention to Lil, frowning in clear irritation. He stepped onto the podium and jabbed a finger in her direction. "You want me to fight a girl?" His tone was heavy with disbelief, verging on insult. "She can't even cultivate, and you want me to test her? Seriously, Alethia—if you weren't so well-favored by the Director, I'd strike you down for wasting my time."
Alethia remained unfazed. She didn't flinch at his outburst, didn't scowl or snap back. Instead, she smiled coolly, letting the moment hang until Maximus grudgingly turned back toward Lil.
"So, you want to be a Dungeon Raider," he said, his tone still dripping with disdain.
"Not really," Lil replied evenly. She stood perfectly still, her arms loose at her sides, her body language as relaxed as if she were standing in line for coffee. But I could see it—the quiet fire in her eyes. She was irritated, no question.
Maximus raised an eyebrow. "Not really?" he echoed, sneering. "Then why are you here? If you don't want to be a Raider, what's the point of this?"
Lil smiled again, but this time, her eyes glinted with something more dangerous. It wasn't just amusement or annoyance. It was something far more predatory. She tilted her head, pointing casually at the sword hanging from his belt.
"I guess," she said, her voice as smooth as silk, "right now, I just want to take that sword of yours."
"Huh," Maximus said, smirking as if he'd just heard a good joke. "You're funny. Okay… let's do this. I won't even use my Battle Art—make it fair for you."
Fool. I couldn't help but shake my head at his arrogance. Did he truly not realize what he was dealing with? Battle Arts weren't just flashy techniques—they were a fundamental understanding of the flow of combat, a practitioner's unique method of imposing their will on the battlefield. By choosing to forgo them, Maximus had unwittingly given away his greatest advantage.
"Alright," Lil replied, her voice steady, her gaze fixed on Maximus. She slid into a stance so fluid, so natural, it felt as if the air around her stilled in reverence. Her left fist came forward, her right close to her chest. A faint chill swept through the room, and the atmosphere grew heavier, denser, as though her very presence had shifted the natural order.
Before anyone could react, Lil vanished. One second she was on the podium; the next, she was directly in front of Maximus, moving faster than the eye could follow. Her left fist shot out and cracked against his face. The force of the blow reverberated through the room, a sharp, brutal sound that sent shivers down my spine. Maximus stumbled, but Lil was already in motion. Her right hand came up in a swift, upward arc, landing squarely in his stomach. The impact lifted Maximus off the ground.
Without missing a beat, Lil grabbed his leg, and with terrifying strength, hurled him back down onto the podium. The entire room shook from the impact. Dust and fragments of debris floated through the air as if the podium itself had protested the violence. The shockwave was so intense it rattled the walls, and a gasp rose from the onlookers. Lil wasn't done. With a dark grin that sent chills down my spine, she swung him again, using him like a doll, smashing him repeatedly against the unforgiving surface.
I turned to gauge the others' reactions. Ben, Neil, and Alethia were frozen in place, their faces pale and their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and horror. It wasn't just the sheer force of Lil's assault that unsettled them—it was what she represented. A human, untouched by the structured paths of cultivation, effortlessly dismantling someone of Maximus's caliber? It defied logic and shattered their understanding of what was possible.
Maximus wasn't just any warrior. He was a Master Realm Body Cultivator, a level of skill and power that most fighters could only dream of attaining. His years of experience, his physical conditioning, his honed reflexes—none of it mattered against Lil. She overpowered him without the need for any mystical energy, any Soul Core, any Battle Art. It wasn't supposed to be possible, yet here it was, unfolding before their eyes.
When Lil finally finished with him, she tossed Maximus's limp form out of the podium with casual ease. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, leaving a trail of fractured stone in his wake. Without hesitation, Lil hopped off the podium and approached where he lay crumpled. The sword at his side gleamed faintly under the harsh lighting. Without a word, she bent down, slid it from his scabbard, and held it up, inspecting the blade as if it were a prize she had been waiting to claim.
"Whew! An enchanted blade," Lil remarked, holding the gleaming sword up to inspect it. The weapon pulsed faintly, as though resonating with her touch. "A sacred-grade blade. Nice."
With a flick of her wrist, she slipped the blade into her space ring, the shimmering artifact resting snugly around her finger. The weapon disappeared in an instant, safely stored within the otherworldly pocket. Turning back to Alethia, Lil's expression returned to a neutral calm, the earlier intensity all but vanished. "So, did I pass?" she asked.
Alethia hesitated, clearly still processing what she had just witnessed. "Yes, of course you did," she said, her tone wavering for just a moment. "That was… well, that was quite an unexpected outcome." She reached into her pocket and retrieved a slim card, the metallic sheen of its surface catching the light. Handing it to Lil, she said, "As of now, you're officially a B-rank Dungeon Raider. Congratulations."
"Thanks," Lil said coolly, slipping the card into her pocket.
****
The Royal Palace of the Ashtarmel Family
Yorkside Region, Pandemonium
Capital of the Kingdom of Ashtarium
August 4th, 6406
12:49 a.m.
Ever since Lilith had woken up in the Dread Forest—where the world seemed to stand still—her memories had been shrouded in a heavy fog. She had no recollection of how she had arrived there or why she was there. All she knew was a deep, visceral need to survive. It wasn't just survival for its own sake, though. There was a purpose lurking at the edges of her mind—something she was after, something she had to find. She stayed in the forest, rooted by that yearning, convinced that leaving would mean losing her chance to grasp it.
The forest had become her home, her hunting ground. It was a hostile place, teeming with monstrous predators, but Lilith had learned to adapt. She killed, honed her instincts, and rose to the top of the food chain. Over time, she became the apex predator of that shadowy realm, living by a singular drive: survive, until what she was waiting for came to her.
Her solitary existence was shattered the day a group of men in black military uniforms invaded her territory. They reeked of bloodlust, their intent clear. They were hunters, and she was their prey. Lilith's response was swift and merciless. She fought them with a ferocity they hadn't anticipated, tearing through their ranks like a storm of claws and teeth. She tore them apart, flesh and bone giving way to her relentless fury. But despite her raw strength and her desperate struggle, they eventually overwhelmed her.
When Lilith regained consciousness, she found herself in a place entirely foreign to her: an orphanage. It wasn't a sanctuary. It was a cage, designed to strip her of her wildness and instill a semblance of control. The caretakers used every means at their disposal to tame her feral instincts, coaxing her toward calmness and composure. To an extent, it worked. She learned to suppress her primal rage, to show flashes of intelligence far beyond her apparent age. Language returned to her like fragments of a forgotten dream, and slowly, she began to navigate the world outside the forest.
But beneath the surface, her fury still simmered. That deep, consuming anger never truly went away; she merely buried it. Sometimes it surged back, breaking through her carefully maintained calm. When that happened, reigning it in felt like holding back a tide.
And then there was the girl.
She was just a child, yet there was something extraordinary about her. When Lilith had first encountered her, something had shifted. The girl's presence, her innocence, created a connection Lilith had never experienced before. It was as if their minds brushed against one another, allowing Lilith to feel the purity of the girl's heart. For the first time, Lilith felt something other than survival—something she didn't trust.
She was human now, yes. But she was still a vampire. A blood-sucking creature of the night. The part of her that had always known what she was wanted to end this girl's life before she could awaken fully—before she could give their kind a foothold in the world. Yet, when it came down to it, Lilith couldn't bring herself to do it.
A faint sound snapped Lilith from her restless thoughts. "Psst! Psst!" A sharp whisper cut through the darkness of her cell. She turned toward the window and her eyes widened. The Princess stood there, her face illuminated by moonlight. She waved at Lilith, a mischievous glint in her eyes, then unlocked the cell door.
Lilith shot up from her cot, her mind racing. How had the girl even gotten here? Before she could say anything, a rush of thoughts hit her—thoughts that weren't her own. They came from the girl, raw and unfiltered.
Lilith could sense the Princess's indignation at seeing her locked away, the sincere belief that this imprisonment was unjust. That purity again, that unshakable kindness, radiated from the girl. Lilith's head swam with the intensity of the connection. Once again, she was struck by the girl's innocence, her unyielding empathy. It was overwhelming.
The girl's emotions filled the space between them, and for a brief moment, Lilith felt her rage recede, buried under the weight of something she couldn't quite name.
"You coming, or what?" the princess asked, her tone impatient.
Lily didn't waste a moment. She slipped off the bed and stepped out of the cell, glancing at the hooded cloak the princess held out. The princess was already dressed in a similar black cloak, the hood casting a shadow over her youthful features. Wordlessly, Lily took the cloak and draped it over her shoulders, the fabric heavier than she expected. It smelled faintly of the castle—stone walls, cold air, and a hint of something floral.
"Put this on," the princess said, and Lily did as instructed. Together, they hurried toward the elevator.
"How did you get past the guards?" Lily asked, her voice low but sharp. "What about the cameras?"
The princess smiled faintly, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small, sleek device. "I handled the guards at the elevator myself. And this little gadget takes care of the cameras. But only for a short time. We don't have long."
Lily's eyes narrowed as she absorbed the girl's calm confidence. The princess was so composed—so assured. It unnerved Lily more than she cared to admit. As the elevator began its ascent, she studied the princess from the corner of her eye. This girl was young, yes, but she carried herself with an uncanny presence. And yet… why? Why would a Vampire Princess go to such lengths to help her?
"Why?" Lily asked, her voice edged with suspicion. "Why are you helping me?"
She expected a simple answer—something dismissive, maybe even patronizing. She almost braced herself for it.
"And don't tell me it's the right thing to do," she added quickly.
The princess looked up at her, a faint blush creeping across her pale cheeks. "Isn't it?"
Lily opened her mouth to retort, but the girl kept going. "I don't know why you're here. I don't know what you've done, or why my father would approve of locking you up. No one tells me anything. I'm still too young for the answers." She paused, her expression softening. "But when I look at you, I see that you're in pain. And for some reason… I feel that pain too. I can't ignore it. I can't ignore you."
The sincerity in the girl's voice caught Lily off guard. She looked away, not wanting to see that earnest expression any longer. She didn't want the princess's pity. If she let herself dwell on it too much, it would only make what she knew she had to do all the harder. When the time came—when the girl's presence became a threat—Lily knew she would have to end it. That was the harsh truth of the world she lived in.
The elevator came to a quiet halt, and they stepped out into a silent hallway. Lily's eyes immediately caught sight of two guards slumped on the floor, their necks twisted at unnatural angles.
"They're not dead," the princess said quickly, noting Lily's expression. "Just… temporarily out of commission."
Lily stared at the downed guards, her mind racing. "You did this?" she asked.
The princess gave a small, proud nod. "Started combat training a few weeks ago."
Lily blinked. Only weeks ago? Taking down two vampires—even New Bloods—without the aid of awakened vampirism? It was an impressive feat for anyone, let alone someone her age. Noble-blooded vampires truly were a class above. The girl had raw potential, that much was clear. When she eventually awakened, she would become even stronger, and Lily could see the future stretch out in front of her. This princess would one day be a force to be reckoned with—stronger than most vampires or humans could ever hope to be. She would hold that power over them, just as the world always had.
Lily clenched her fists under the cloak, forcing herself to refocus. They moved swiftly through the castle's shadowed corridors, avoiding patrols and security cameras with a skill that belied the princess's age. She was eerily good at sneaking around, her footsteps almost silent on the cold stone floors. Finally, they reached what looked like the palace kitchen, a vast space with gleaming countertops and towering shelves.
The princess began gathering supplies from the enormous cool storage, pulling out an assortment of food with quick, practiced movements. Lily watched her, wary of the girl's competence.
"What's your name?" the princess asked suddenly, her voice light, almost curious.
Lily hesitated. For a moment, she considered staying silent, or giving a false name. But the princess didn't wait for an answer. She flashed a small smile.
"I'm Ariella," she said. "But you can call me Ella."
"My name is Lilith Kain," Lith said evenly, her voice steady. "But I prefer to be called Lith."
Ariella's lips parted in a small "o" of surprise. "Lilith…" she murmured. "That's the Divine Mother's name."
The Divine Mother—the ancient, revered figure worshipped by vampires for eons. Lith had never given much thought to the significance of her own name. Her father had chosen it, but he'd never explained why. Maybe, she thought, if she ever saw him again, she would ask. A flicker of pain rippled through her mind, unbidden. A shadowy image of her father flashed before her eyes but vanished too quickly for her to grasp.
Her chest tightened. That was why she needed to return to the forest—why she couldn't give up. She had to find her family. She had to find him.
"And Kain…" Ariella trailed off, her brow furrowing slightly. "That's strange."
Lith's gaze hardened. "What's so strange about—"
Before she could finish, Ariella clamped a hand over her own mouth, her eyes darting toward the window. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Royal guards. Lith's instincts kicked in, and she crouched low as the two of them remained hidden. The muffled steps drew nearer, then gradually faded into the distance.
When silence returned, Ariella exhaled and smiled. "That was close," she said, her voice light with relief.
"Was it, now?" a deep, smooth voice drawled.
Both girls froze. They turned toward the sound and saw him. The King himself. He was lounging on one of the kitchen tables, his legs crossed casually as he enjoyed a bowl of ice cream. The sight was surreal. Lith hadn't sensed his presence at all, and now the room seemed heavier—charged. The air practically hummed with the raw, intimidating power that radiated off him.
Lith's stomach knotted. Vampires grew stronger as they aged, their strength deepening with every century. How old must he be? She couldn't fathom it. Fighting him wasn't an option—she'd be crushed before she even got close.
"Father," Ariella said, her voice tinged more with surprise than fear. "What are you doing here?"
"Why, Ella, this is my kitchen," King Rafael said, setting his bowl down. "Surely I'm allowed to visit my own kitchen whenever I please."
"Yes, but—" Ariella began, but the King cut her off, his tone turning stern.
"Besides, I wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything foolish. Like, say, helping Lilith here escape back to that wretched Dread Forest."
Lith's jaw tightened. "I'm not going back to that cell," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. If it came to it, she would fight her way out.
The King raised a hand, his tone almost dismissive. "I have no intention of sending you back there."
Lith blinked, taken aback. "What?"
Ariella looked just as startled. "Really, Father?"
Rafael nodded. "I was planning to have you released in the morning and give you a place here in the palace."
Ariella's face lit up. "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.
Lith wasn't convinced. "Me? Live among you vampires?" she asked skeptically, her gaze narrowing.
"You might not know this, Lilith," Rafael said, his voice softening, "but I knew your father, Jonathan Kain."
The world seemed to tilt. Lith stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Her father's name, spoken aloud by the King himself. Memories began to surface, clearer now than they'd been before. Her father's face—his black hair, darker skin, the scar on his cheek that mirrored her own. His smile. It was all there, vivid and real, until the King's next words shattered it.
"He was one of my oldest friends," Rafael continued. "But I'm afraid he's dead."
"Dead…" The word came out in a whisper, her mind refusing to accept it. "You're lying."
"I'm afraid it's the truth," Rafael said gently. "Your father was a powerful man, and powerful men make powerful enemies."
Lith's legs gave out beneath her, and she dropped to her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall. It couldn't be true. Her father had promised to come back for her. He'd promised to take her home. This couldn't be real.
Rafael stepped closer, his voice measured and calm. "Your father protected me. He signed a blood contract, binding his life to mine. For three centuries I didn't hear from him, until one day he sent a message. A plea to keep you safe. By the time I found him, he was gone. It took another century before I finally located you. You were in the last place I ever would have thought—hidden in that forest where time itself stands still."
His words struck her like a blow. Her memories of life before the forest were fragments, scattered and faint. Blood, darkness, survival. That was all she remembered.
"What do you want from me?" Lith asked at last, her voice raw.
"Stay here," the King said. "The palace is the safest place in the kingdom. You won't have to fight anymore. You can have a normal life."
A normal life? The very idea seemed absurd. Normal wasn't a concept Lith could even comprehend. But before she could speak, Ariella chimed in. "C'mon, think about it!" she said eagerly. "You can stay with me. I have a whole wing of the palace to myself. You can share it with me. There are so many empty rooms, and it gets so lonely at night when everyone's gone."
Lith hesitated. Ariella's excitement, her sincerity, was overwhelming. There was something in her that Lith couldn't quite place—something pure and strangely comforting.
"Fine," Lith said finally. "I'll stay."
Rafael gave her a small, approving nod. "You'll have a safe place here. And I know exactly where your skills will be most useful." A faint smile tugged at his lips, a grin that hinted at more than he let on. Lith didn't trust it. She knew there was more he wasn't telling her. But for now, she had little choice but to play along.