Ariella
Thornhill,
Vankar Island
Northern Isle Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 29th 6414
5:05 am
The Great Hall of the Royal Palace stretched out before me, as vast and imposing as I remembered. Tall, arched windows lined the long room, their crystalline glass glowing faintly in the evening light. At the far end, raised on a dais, stood the high table, a familiar gathering place for my family. My father sat at its center, his silver hair catching the light, his electric indigo eyes meeting mine with their customary warmth. He smiled at me—an expression I'd always known to be genuine, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he was in control. Beside him, my eldest brother, Elijah, stood at attention, every bit the loyal heir. The twins, Quincy and Addam, bickered as usual, their playful banter lightening the somber atmosphere. At the opposite end of the table was my mother. Her golden hair, always meticulously braided, shimmered like spun sunlight. I moved toward her—or tried to—when the air suddenly split apart with a searing roar. A fiery line erupted before me, a living wall of flames consuming the room in an instant.
It was the nightmare. The scene that haunted me night after night. My body froze as I watched in horror. My family burned—ashes where moments ago there had been laughter and love. The acrid stench of smoke and charred flesh filled my senses. Stakes, silver and merciless, impaled my father and brothers, their fiery auras feeding on the destruction. My father collapsed first, his chest pierced by a glowing shaft of metal. Behind him, his brother—my uncle, General Nehemiah—loomed. His fangs gleamed as he sneered with sadistic delight, plunging another silver stake into my father's back.
"Run, Ella, run!" my father's voice rang out, strained but commanding. Those were his final words before his body crumbled into dust, leaving nothing but a bitter emptiness where he had once stood.
"Stop it!" I screamed, my voice trembling with rage and despair. The emotions hit me like a tidal wave—grief that clawed at my insides, anger that seared through my veins, and a helplessness that threatened to overwhelm me. I tried to push the feelings away, to bury them before they consumed me. How could he? How could Nehemiah do this? My own uncle, turning on us, slaughtering us as if we were nothing. My legs wouldn't move. My body betrayed me, rooted to the spot as Nehemiah advanced. His true form was monstrous—scarlet eyes burning with malice, bulging veins writhing beneath pale skin, his grin exposing rows of serrated fangs. He moved closer, a predator stalking its prey, and all I could do was shut my eyes.
What could I possibly do against him? I was no match. Not yet. I lacked my father's strength, my siblings' talents. The only reason I had survived this long was because of Sanders and Lily—without them, I'd be nothing more than another pile of ash on the floor. When I finally opened my eyes, Nehemiah was gone. The Great Hall had disappeared, replaced by a dark, dense forest. The world around me felt heavy, the air laden with moisture and the sharp scent of pine. A canopy of ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches knitting together to block out all but a sliver of moonlight. The pale, ghostly moon hung low in the midnight sky, its light spilling across the forest floor in fractured beams.
A sudden sound broke the silence—a guttural cry from deep within the woods. "What are you doing? Stop. Aaarrgh!" The voice was hoarse, filled with pain and desperation. My instincts pulled me toward it. I wasn't sure what I'd find, but I never expected this.
A body lay sprawled on the ground, grotesquely lifeless. A charred hole, like some unnatural wound, marred its chest where a heart should have been. The smell was overpowering—burnt flesh mixed with something fouler, something otherworldly. Faint tendrils of vapor rose from the corpse, dissipating into the cold night air. Above the body stood a being that seemed to be made of living shadow. Its shape was indistinct, a writhing mass of darkness that obscured any hint of a face. Yet its left hand blazed with a blinding white light, a stark contrast to its otherwise impenetrable form.
Behind the specter, four massive wings unfolded—wings that seemed carved from the void itself. They stretched wide, their outlines jagged and menacing, exuding an aura of power that made my blood run cold. The figure shifted, and the glowing hand reached out toward me. My breath caught. It was moving. It was coming straight for me.
I jolted awake, the remnants of my nightmare clinging to me like cobwebs. My chest heaved, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free. I was drenched in sweat, a damp patch soaking through the fabric beneath me. I tried to control my breathing, to dispel the dread that still gripped me. Nightmares weren't new—two years of restless, haunted nights had made them a bitter companion. But this one was different. It felt more than just a dream; it felt like a warning.
I placed a trembling hand over my chest, feeling my heartbeat surge beneath my palm. I knew I had to calm myself. I reached over to the drawer beside my bed, pulling it open to retrieve the small space ring I kept there. Slipping it on, I focused for a moment and retrieved several Mana cores from its storage. The crystalline spheres, faintly pulsing with light, gleamed in the dim room as I laid them out before me.
Settling into a lotus position, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Slowly, I began to pull on the essence stored within the cores, drawing it toward my own spirit. I could feel the threads of Spirit essence winding into my soul, saturating it with energy. Minutes ticked by, then nearly an hour, as I focused on refining and absorbing that essence. When I finally stopped, my body was drenched again, not from fear this time but from the heat generated by the process. My temperature had spiked, and I felt the toll of my efforts.
I turned my attention inward, reaching toward my soul core. But when I glimpsed it, disappointment tightened my throat. The core still hovered at the same light red hue it had held for so long. Its slow growth gnawed at me. Once, before my Vampirism awakening, while I had been forging the core in my soul, I had cultivated at a speed that defied reason. Now, my progress crawled, and the Mana cores I used were of such poor quality that their Spirit essence barely made a dent. If I wanted to become stronger, if I wanted to accelerate my growth, I would have to find more potent sources of Spirit essence—stronger beings, deeper dungeons. The thought alone made my hand curl into a fist, my frustration simmering as the nightmare replayed in my mind.
"Ariella… Ariella!" The voice snapped me from my thoughts. My head whipped around, searching the room for its source. No one was there. But something was wrong.
"Ariella… Ariella…" The voice came again, now layered with a faint static. The noise swelled, growing louder and sharper, as if threatening to burst my eardrums.
"Ariella! Ariella! Please… help me." A desperate, crackling cry. It sent a chill down my spine. I jumped from my bed, heart racing, as the sound reverberated through the room. For a moment, I thought I saw a figure—just a flicker—standing there. Then it was gone.
The whispers persisted, faint echoes that lingered in the air. My mind scrambled to place them, to make sense of what I was hearing. And then I remembered—just faintly—something like this had happened before. Right before our last trip to the dungeon. A ghost? A specter? I struggled to hold onto the memory, but it slipped away, leaving only unease in its wake.
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of fear and confusion. I couldn't afford distractions now. Our time in Thornhill was limited, and Sanders was working on something I didn't yet understand. I had to make the most of it. I had to grow stronger. I couldn't let myself be a burden—not again.
I glanced down at the Mana cores still scattered across the floor. I'd need more—more power, more Spirit essence. Whatever it took, I had to get back into that dungeon.
****
Thornhill took Remembrance Day seriously—far more than I'd expected. The town's main square was alive with color and sound, a whirlwind of celebrations that seemed to grow louder as we drove through. We were in Ben's car, winding our way past bustling streets and makeshift stalls that lined the sidewalks. He had picked Lil and me up from the mansion earlier, and now we were headed toward the Dungeon hidden deep in the woods. Normally, I'd have felt that familiar excitement bubbling in my chest at the thought of diving back into the fray, but today my mind was elsewhere. The celebrations seemed like a dream I couldn't quite grasp. Vendors called out to passersby, laughter echoed off stone walls, and strings of lights crisscrossed above the square, glowing faintly in the midday sun. It all seemed so festive—so alive—and yet my focus was locked on the task ahead.
We passed the fighting arena, a sprawling amphitheater that sat just outside the square's bustle. A place where warriors from all corners tested their mettle in duels for glory or grudge. Over the last several days, Lil had been making regular trips there, facing off against Jennifer McClough—a human fighter who seemed just as determined as she was skilled. I'd stood in the stands more times than I cared to admit, watching as Lil gave it her all, anticipating the moment she'd finally best her opponent. But it never came. Every time, Jennifer walked away the victor, leaving Lil frustrated, sulking, and muttering under her breath. It stung, watching Lil in those moments, but it also lit a spark in me. I wanted to get stronger—to prove to myself and to her that I could stand alongside her. And yet, as time passed, I began to notice something else gnawing at me.
It wasn't just the losses that bothered me. It was the way Lil spoke about Jennifer—the ease in her voice when she said her name, the almost imperceptible smile when she talked about their matches. At first, I couldn't place what I was feeling. Jealousy was a foreign concept to me. It wasn't until those brief, gut-twisting pangs grew harder to ignore that I realized the truth. I hated seeing them together, even if it was only on the field of combat.
"Not going to the arena today?" I asked Lil, breaking the silence in the car. She was leaning against the window, one earbud plugged in while music blasted faintly through the other.
"Nah," she replied, shaking her head. "Jen's busy with raiding today. No point going there." Her tone was nonchalant, almost casual, but hearing Jennifer's name spoken so easily made my stomach tighten.
As we neared the woods, Ben pulled off the main road and parked in a small lot beside a dozen other vehicles. The trees stretched up high above us, their canopies thick enough to blot out most of the sunlight. We stepped out into the crisp air and started down the narrow, dirt-packed path that led toward the Dungeon's entrance. Along the way, we passed through Enoch's Plaza, another hub of activity brimming with stalls and people enjoying the holiday spirit. The energy in the air was infectious. For a moment, I felt the pull of the celebration—the urge to let myself be swept up in the lively crowd and enjoy the day as I once would have.
"If you want, we can check some of them out," Lil said, her voice softer now. She must have noticed the way I glanced at the booths, the faint flicker of longing in my expression. She knew how much I'd loved Remembrance Day in the past, how it used to light me up inside. The past two years, though, had been different. My enthusiasm for the holiday had dulled, but maybe she was right. Maybe this time would be different.
"I don't know…" I hesitated, torn between old habits and the mission at hand. "We came here to raid the Dungeon… Maybe we should focus on that."
"Having a little fun won't hurt," Lil said, gesturing toward a section of the plaza brimming with carnival attractions. "Why don't we try some of the games over there?"
I followed her gaze, taken aback by the spectacle. I'd never been to a carnival before, let alone given much thought to attending one, and the sight before me was more than I'd imagined. The plaza had been transformed into a lively carnival ground, with colorful amusement rides, vibrant food stands, vendors selling trinkets and merchandise, and even a synthblood shop tucked among the rows of booths. The air buzzed with laughter and excited shouts, and the decorations—clown faces painted on banners, streamers strung between tents—made everything feel whimsical and surreal. The townsfolk, many of whom had no connection to dungeon raiding, wandered the stalls, their faces alight with joy as they joined in the festivities.
Our first stop was a food stand, where we bought sticks of fluffy blue cotton candy. The sweet, spun sugar melted on my tongue as Neil began to recount the history of Thornhill's carnival. But while his voice carried on, my mind drifted. My thoughts turned inward, to my family.
Every Remembrance Day since their deaths, I found myself imagining what might have been. If they were still alive, what would we be doing now in the Palace? These thoughts had been my anchor, a childish dream I clung to so I wouldn't fall apart. I stepped aside to let a group of laughing children pass, then rejoined the others.
And then there was Delilah. My cousin, who might think me dead, might have mourned me—or, perhaps, she had been complicit like the rest of her family. The thought twisted something inside me. I didn't want to think of her that way, but I didn't know what to believe anymore.
My steps faltered. Memories of that night in the Great Hall crashed over me, as vivid and sharp as ever. I saw it all again: my father and Uncle Nehemiah locked in a battle of terrifying beauty. For a mortal girl like me, the fight had been impossible to follow. The hall, bathed in cold, artificial moonlight streaming through the windows, seemed like a stage for a tragic play. The bodies of my brothers lay charred on the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of fire and death.
Sparks of light had flared and burst around the room as the two clashed, moving too fast for my eyes to track. One spark landed on a curtain, and flames erupted, spreading like a serpent made of fire, consuming everything in their path. I had been rooted in place, unable to move. My father's desperate voice echoed in my head, telling me to run, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave him behind, even as fear held me like chains.
"Ariella." I blinked. The voice was so soft, so close, that I turned instinctively. My father's face appeared out of the light—his expression one of deep concern. I felt his presence, his protection, for the briefest of moments. And then Nehemiah lunged at him…
"Ariella," the voice repeated, this time pulling me back into the present. I snapped back to reality, my surroundings shifting. The vivid memory gave way to the bustling carnival. I felt a hand squeeze mine, and when I looked down, Lil's gentle touch steadied me. She was gazing at me, her eyes full of understanding. She'd seen my memories, felt my fear and pain, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she simply pulled me forward, easing the memories back into the shadows of my mind—where nightmares waited to resurface.
"Is she okay?" Neil's voice cut through the haze.
"She's fine," Lil said calmly, glancing at me. "Right, Anna?"
"Yeah," I replied quickly, trying to sound convincing. "I'm good."
"You sure?" Ben raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. I nodded, brushing it off, and followed them toward the ticket booth.
We stopped at a tall game machine where a kid was testing his strength. He struck the attached puck with a hammer, and it shot halfway up the machine's column before sliding back down. The others watched, amused, as the boy made another attempt.
"I wasn't expecting to see you all here," a familiar voice called out.
Turning toward it, I saw Jennifer McClough walking gracefully toward us. She wore a white frilly dress and a brown hat adorned with a white ribbon. Her polished appearance contrasted sharply with the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the carnival, and though I hated to admit it, she looked stunning.
"Neither was I," Lil replied coolly, though the slight twitch of her eyebrows betrayed her irritation. It wasn't hard to tell that she wasn't thrilled to see Jennifer, but I knew Lil well enough to read the nervous energy beneath her aloof façade. She'd been like that when she first came to live with me—covering up uncertainty with indifference.
Jennifer gave a halfhearted wave to Neil and Ben, who still looked dumbfounded that she had approached them. Jennifer, on the other hand, turned her attention to me. Her smile was polite but appraising. I could feel her gaze moving over me, measuring, comparing. She was striking—no, she was beautiful. About my height, but with a fairer complexion that made her emerald eyes stand out even more.
"I thought it might be fun to see what the fuss was about," Jennifer said, her tone casual.
Lil's eyes narrowed slightly as she took a step closer, her gaze locked on Jennifer. "Strength testing without Mana usage? How's that fair for humans?"
"Life was never meant to be fair," Jennifer said with a shrug, her smile never wavering. "So, are you heading to the Dungeon after this?"
"Yeah, once we're done looking around," Lil replied.
Jennifer nodded, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful. "Can I join your group?" she asked, not directing the question to Lil, but to the rest of us.
Neil's jaw dropped at her request, and even Ben cleared his throat, clearly trying to suppress his awe.
"Of course," Ben said quickly.
Jennifer's smile grew a touch warmer, and then her eyes landed on me. That quiet, focused stare made me feel suddenly self-conscious, like I'd been put under a spotlight.
"Uh, sure," I said, forcing a nervous laugh. "Why not?"
She smiled again, this time more brightly. "Great. I thought you'd all be heading to the Dungeon soon anyway."
"We were," Neil started to say, but I nudged him hard in the ribs before he could blurt out any more. He winced and corrected himself quickly. "Oh, yes! Definitely. We were just about to head there. We don't have time to hang around much longer."
Ben and Lil both shot Neil a pointed look, and he quickly shut his mouth. I sighed, stepping into the lead as we made our way to the Dungeon entrance.
The portal loomed before us—a shimmering, bluish-white gateway framed by two ancient, crumbling pillars. As we approached, we began suiting up in our combat gear. My own armor was a sleek, silver-gray piece designed for speed and agility. A shortsword hung at my waist, while my bow rested easily on my shoulder, the string taut and ready.
Lil wore her usual black armored jacket—light and minimal, offering just enough protection without sacrificing her mobility. She was confident in her strength, even without cultivation, and it showed in her choice of gear. Neil's green mage robe flowed as he adjusted his long staff, the intricate carvings on it glowing faintly as he checked his spells. Ben's ash-colored armor jacket was similarly simple, a reflection of his practical, no-nonsense approach to combat.
Jennifer stood slightly apart from us, already dressed in her gleaming white titanium armor. The fitted design enhanced her graceful movements, giving her an almost regal air. Despite being the only human among us, she exuded an aura of competence and danger. Her every step, every movement, seemed measured and deliberate.
"Shall we?" Lil asked, her voice calm but brimming with determination.
I nodded, and so did the others. One by one, we stepped forward, the shimmering light of the portal washing over us as we passed through.