As if understanding the offer, the dragon moved.

  Darksmoke unhinged its massive jaw and let out a roar that tore through the silence of the valley, a sound that vibrated deep in the human group. A sudden, blistering blast of heat washed over them as the beast snapped its teeth.

  Garen stumbled back, shielding his face, and even the horse froze.

  Alexander didn’t flinch. He simply watched the humans do so, amused by the display.

  "Why should I not feed them to Darksmoke?" Alexander repeated, crossing his arms over his chest plate as the dragon’s growl settled into a low, hungry thrum.

  Sebastian stepped forward, placing himself smoothly between the knight of Carmyne and the exhausted humans.

  “I saw how you looked at them, Alexander. I think you understand.”

  Sebastian stepped aside, exposing the group to the knight’s scrutiny. “Your dragon has keen eyes. Ask yourself whether you are using yours. I think the power of ruins beneath the valley have altered the humans above it.”

  “Maybe the source comes from the Crown, and they are the key that leads us to it,” Sebastian said.

  Alexander grunted in response.

  Before the conversation could continue, shadows approached.

  Four tall, cloaked figures revealed themselves, surrounding the group.

  They wore layered black robes, their faces obscured by deep hoods. Beneath the fabric, faint crimson runes glowed on blackened armor. Each held a long staff topped with a spearhead.

  Selene and Selis tensed, recognizing the same figures they had fought at the ruins.

  One of the figures moved forward. It bowed its head slightly toward Alexander.

  "My Lord," the Veilbound said, its voice a collective whisper. "We have swept the valley. No further evidence of the Corruption were found."

  “Good. This place cannot fall into silence like that forsaken kingdom,” Alexander said. He turned his back on the humans. “We need to stay vigilant. What happened today can happen again.”

  He gestured to Sebastian. “Veilbound, assist the ‘diplomat.’ He and his party need transit.”

  "As you command," the Veilbound intoned.

  Alexander didn’t waste time. He walked toward the cliff face where Darksmoke waited. With a burst of supernatural speed, he vaulted into the air, landing perfectly on the dragon’s neck and settling into the saddle between the massive spinal spikes.

  “Try not to die. Your words will only protect you so much,” Alexander called out.

  He paused, his gaze sliding down to Astraea standing in the dirt. A rasping chuckle echoed from his helm.

  “And you, squire—It is dreadfully hard to look imposing when you limp like a peasant.”

  Darksmoke roared, a sound that shook the stones loose from the cliff. The dragon unfurled its massive wings, pushing off the peak with a thunderous crack of muscle and wind. In seconds, they were airborne, a terrifying silhouette banking sharply against the moon before disappearing into the night.

  On the ground, Astraea watched them go.

  She stood perfectly still, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her red eyes tracked the dragon until it vanished. Inside, a cold, venomous jealousy coiled around her heart.

  She let out a sharp, angry breath, her fangs clicking together.

  "What is that you command," one of the Veilbound announced, turning their void-like gaze to Sebastian.

  "We require portal," Sebastian ordered.

  The four Veilbound struck the butts of their staves against the ground in unison.

  A dormant geometric pattern etched itself into the dirt in thin, glowing lines, encircling the group.

  Selis recoiled as if burned.

  The moment the crimson light touched the soil, her body seized. It was the same hum, the same suffocating pressure that had locked her muscles in the ruins during the battle with Astraea. The memory of that paralysis crashed into her mind.

  She scrambled backward, her boots slipping on the gravel. She dropped into a low, defensive crouch, trembling from the terrifying expectation of the bind snapping shut around her again.

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  Beside her, Garen stared at the glowing earth, his eyes wide and stark against his soot-streaked face. He looked up at the faceless sorcerers.

  “What in the Architect’s is happening?” he stammered, his voice cracking. He took a stumbling step back.

  Sebastian glanced at them. “Do not be afraid,” he said softly, his eyes landing briefly on Selis. “It connects. It does not bind. Not this time.”

  He raised his hand. With a thought, a single, heavy bead of crimson welled on his fingertip. He turned his palm downward and said, “In our core, we are just blood.”

  The drop fell. It struck the center of the pattern.

  The reaction was instantaneous. The blood acted as a key, sending a shockwave of red light racing through the complex geometry. The lines flared blindingly bright. The wind howled, whipping Selene’s hair across her face. The world twisted—the mountains warped like oil paint runs in the rain.

  There was a sensation of falling upward, a breathless compression of space—

  Flash.

  The cold wind of the mountain vanished instantly, replaced by the damp, salt-heavy air of the sea.

  They slammed back into existence on solid stone.

  The horse whinnied in confusion, its hooves clattering loudly on wet cobblestones. Selene stumbled, disorientation washing over her, but Sebastian caught her arm to steady her.

  They were no longer in the wild. They stood in a small, enclosed courtyard paved with dark stone. High walls rose on three sides, built into the side of a massive fortress. The stone was veined with faint red minerals that pulsed softly in the dark.

  Above, the sky was a narrow strip of black, framed by towering spires. And filling that air was a sound that made the silence of the mountains feel like a mercy—the distant, chaotic screaming of dragons circling the high towers, their cries echoing off the wet stone like thunder.

  "We are home," Sebastian said.

  The heavy ironwood door ahead swung open.

  A woman stood there. She was immaculate in her dark dress and pale apron, her black hair tied back with a simple ribbon. Her red eyes widened slightly as she took in the sudden crowd.

  She composed herself instantly, dropping into a curtsy. "Master Sebastian. We... we were not expecting your return with... livestock."

  “These aren’t livestock, Freyr,” Sebastian said, stepping toward the door. “Is the Headmistress within?”

  Thump. Thump.

  The sound of a heavy stick hitting stone echoed from the hallway.

  Freyr stepped aside quickly, head bowed. Emerging from the shadows was an older woman who radiated authority. Her grayish black hair was loose but perfectly kept. She wore a dark coat with a high collar, her hand resting on a walking stick carved from dark metal.

  She stopped, her dark red eyes sweeping over the group. She looked at the humans with cold calculation, and at the horse with sheer annoyance.

  Then her gaze settled on Sebastian.

  "First, the human boy," the Headmistress said, her voice dry and sharp. "And now you bring me a traveling circus? Are we to open a menagerie, Sebastian?"

  Selene’s ears pricked up. The boy?

  “Philippa,” Sebastian said with a tired, charming smile. “Our guests here have had a long day of travel. I need quarters prepared. The horse can be stabled in the lower tier stable.”

  The Headmistress stared at him, unblinking.

  Sebastian continued, “I must retire to my study. I have reports to write for the Council before dawn breaks. I leave their comfort in your hands.”

  He glanced back at Selene, a brief, unreadable look, before disappearing down a side corridor, his footsteps silent.

  Philippa let out a long, suffering sigh. She lifted her cane and struck the floor once. Sharp.

  Two more servants appeared from the shadows as if summoned by the sound alone.

  Philippa turned to Astraea first, offering a curt, respectful nod.

  “Lady Astraea,” she said, her tone polite but brisk. “Your usual quarters in the East Wing are prepared.”

  Astraea didn’t speak; she simply vanished into the shadows of the corridor.

  With the vampire attended to, Philippa gestured toward Garen and Selis.

  “Take the male and the blind one to the guest level,” she ordered the servants. “Ensure they are washed before they touch the linens.”

  She glanced at Freyr. “The horse. Deal with it.”

  Freyr nodded.

  Finally, she turned her gaze to Selene.

  “You,” she said. “Follow me.”

  The interior of the residence was silent, lit by wall-mounted lamps that cast a steady, heatless glow. The stone walls were thick, dampening all sound from outside. It felt less like a home and more like a tomb.

  Selene followed the Headmistress down a long corridor. The vampire moved with a slight stoop, leaning on her cane, but her pace was relentless.

  As they passed under a lamp, Selene caught a clear view of the woman’s profile.

  She blinked.

  The Headmistress’s face was marked. Fine, fissure-like scars ran across her pale skin like fractures in old porcelain. They weren’t fresh wounds, but they hadn’t healed.

  How? Selene thought, her scholar’s mind instantly intrigued. Sebastian told me that vampires regenerate. They all heal perfectly. So why does she carry scars?

  Philippa stopped abruptly at a heavy wooden door. She didn’t turn around, but she spoke as if she could hear Selene’s thoughts.

  “Do not stare,” she said, her voice low. “It is rude, even for a mortal.”

  Selene looked down quickly. "Apologies."

  The Headmistress opened the door. "This is your chamber. If you require assistance..." She tapped the wall beside the door frame, where a small bell hung. "...ring this. Once. Do not ring it twice."

  "The boy you mentioned..." Selene ventured, curiosity getting the better of her. "Who is he?"

  Philippa turned fully then. The scars on her face seemed to deepen in the shadows.

  “You will meet him soon enough,” she said. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Carmyne.”

  She grabbed the handle to close the door, then paused. Her dark eyes narrowed.

  “And a word of advice,” she added. “If I were you, I would cover that hair when you leave this house. That shade of white… here, it is a trait reserved for the High Royalty—and not even them…”

  She paused.

  For a brief moment, something unreadable crossed her face—calculation, perhaps, or the echo of a thought she chose not to voice.

  She offered no further explanation. She simply pulled the door shut with a heavy thunk, the lock clicking into place. Selene was left alone.

  The room was surprisingly opulent: dark velvet drapes, a heavy oak wardrobe, and a massive four-poster bed with sheets that looked softer than anything she had ever touched in her life.

  She barely managed to toe off her boots.

  She collapsed onto the mattress. The softness swallowed her instantly. The memory of crossing the Black Rocks, the corruption, the kingdom, the dragons, all of it dissolved into darkness.

  Her eyes closed.

  But the silence of the room did not last. The scent of lavender sheets faded, replaced by the smell of damp earth creeping in.

  The stone floor beneath her gave way to moss and root. Darkness receded, replaced by light filtered through a high canopy of leaves.

  And then a familiar sound broke the quiet.

  Thwack.