Internal conflict (Vivian's jealousy)
Tension and foreshadowing (Lucan's comment about Elena being the key)
Vivian stood at the far end of the stone corridor, watching as Darius disappeared beyond the manor gates, his dark cloak billowing behind him. Her fingers dug into the edge of the pillar beside her, nails biting into the stone.
Ever since that slave had arrived, Darius hadn't summoned her to his chambers once. Not even a glance.
She used to be his favorite—the one he trusted, the one he touched.
Now, she was nothing more than a shadow fading behind the presence of a mere human girl.
She needed to do something. And soon.
"Does she bother you that much?" came a smooth voice from behind her.
Vivian turned sharply, her tone laced with venom. "And why would you care?"
"I don't," he replied lazily. "But this is going to be fun."
He followed her gaze toward Elena, who stood near the balcony railing, seemingly lost in thought, the wind tousling her hair gently.
Vivian narrowed her eyes. She knew her brother well—too well. "Step near her, and Darius will take your head."
The man beside her—her younger brother, Edward—chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "That makes it all the more interesting. You know I love a challenge."
Vivian rolled her eyes. "You play too many games."
"I live for them."
Vivian folded her arms. "I don't care if she stays here. Let her roam the manor like a lost puppy. But the moment she comes between me and Darius, I'll crush her."
Edward's gaze drifted back to Elena. "I overheard Lucan the other day… he called her the key."
"The key to what?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said with a shrug, "but Darius is guarding her like a crown jewel."
Vivian said nothing, but her thoughts were a storm. If Elena truly was important—if she was the key—then perhaps eliminating her wasn't the best move.
Not yet.
But still… she had to act. Before it was too late.
---
Back at the council chamber within the manor's eastern wing, Darius sat on his throne, hands steepled beneath his chin. Caelum stood before him, urgency written across his face.
"My Lord," Caelum began, "there have been… strange deaths in the village of Raventhorn."
Darius tilted his head. "Go on."
"Yesterday, an entire family was found slaughtered. The father, mother, children… all of them." He hesitated before adding, "The bodies were shredded, deep slashes across every limb, and…" He swallowed. "Their hearts were missing."
Darius's brow arched. "Missing?"
"Yes, my Lord. Removed. Not torn—carved out. Clean incisions. Precise."
A cold silence followed.
"It's not just them. Three more incidents in nearby regions. All following the same pattern."
"And no witnesses?"
"None survived."
Darius leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on the carved armrest of his throne. The room darkened slightly as clouds veiled the sun through the stained glass.
He turned to one of his guards. "Send men to Raventhorn. Have them investigate every detail and report to Lucien directly. I want this handled discreetly."
The guard bowed and vanished.
Caelum stepped forward. "The people are afraid, my Lord. They're saying it's the curse… the one from the old texts."
Darius's crimson eyes gleamed with unreadable depth. "The old ones speak of many things. But what matters is what we do. Tell them we're handling it. They need not fear."
Caelum bowed deeply. "As you command. I will deliver your words."
As he left the chamber, silence settled again.
Darius stared ahead, but his thoughts were far away.
"Why the hearts?" he murmured. "Why now?"
He stood and walked toward the massive window overlooking the forest beyond.
"It's beginning again," he whispered. "And only she can end it…"
Elena stood on the balcony of her chamber, the breeze lifting strands of her hair as the sky faded into hues of lavender. Below, the gardens bloomed in perfect symmetry, but her gaze was fixed not on the beauty—but on the woman moving through it.
Vivian.
Elegant. Poised. Deadly.
She looked every part the immortal noble, her silver hair glinting like moonlight and her steps graceful as if she danced with the shadows themselves. Elena's eyes narrowed. That woman hated her. She didn't need proof—she felt it in every glance, every word left unsaid.
And maybe she couldn't blame her.
After all, everything had changed since Darius brought her here.
She looked down at her own hands, still trembling faintly from what had happened earlier.
Darius had told her the truth. Or… part of it.
She was human—half human, at least.
But the other half?
She didn't know. Not yet.
Certainly not vampire. She shuddered at the idea, her gaze drifting to a blood-red rose in a nearby pot. The very thought of drinking blood made her stomach twist in disgust. She wasn't like them. Not fully.
And yet…
She reached out and gently brushed her fingertips over the petal of a wilted daisy tucked in the vase beside her.
As if answering her touch, the petals began to lift. Slowly, color returned to them—soft whites, radiant yellow at the center—until the flower stood fully bloomed.
Her breath caught.
What was she?
Whatever it was, she would find out. She had to.
---
"Lord Darius seems to favor his new pet," a sharp voice echoed in the servant's quarters.
The air was thick with soap, heat, and gossip.
"Oh, you haven't heard?" said another maid, brushing out her apron. "They say she's more than just a pretty face. Rumors say she's the key to something they've been searching for… for years."
"The key?" scoffed a third, younger maid. "To what? His heart?" She cackled.
Laughter followed.
"She walks around like she owns the place," muttered one of them bitterly. "Even Lady Vivian is being ignored these days. That girl's dangerous."
"More like lucky." Another rolled her eyes. "She'll fall out of favor soon enough. Darius loses interest quickly."
A fourth voice, calm and cold, cut through their giggles like a blade.
"Why not use your time to clean rather than gossip?"
The maids stilled. the head maid
she stood at the doorway, arms folded.
"I don't care what name you give her—pet, key, slave," she said, voice like frost. "But don't mistake privilege for favor. Whatever she is, it won't last."
And with that, she turned and left,
---
Back on the balcony, Elena drew back from the vase, still watching the daisy sway in the wind. The blooming hadn't been an illusion. She'd felt something stir inside her—warm and alive.
Maybe she wasn't just something else. Maybe she was meant to be something else.
Still, confusion gnawed at her.
She turned, walking back into the room. Darius hadn't returned yet. He had left on business again that morning, leaving her with more questions than answers.
What did he know that he wasn't telling her?
She crossed the room and sat at the edge of her bed, folding her hands together. Down the hall, she heard footsteps—maids going about their evening chores. Her name was on their lips more often now, whispered like a secret and spit like poison.
They didn't trust her.
Some feared her.
Some wanted her gone.
But none of that mattered. She wasn't here to be liked.
She was here to survive.
And maybe—just maybe—find out who she truly was.