The chamber walls trembled under the force of Valerion’s fury. The moment the council meeting had ended, he stormed into his private quarters, slamming the heavy iron doors shut behind him. His crimson eyes burned like twin infernos, his breath coming in ragged, furious bursts. The fire in the hearth roared to life, mirroring the tempest raging within him.
His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms as his mind replayed those damning words over and over again.
"The princess has to mate with the Lycan Alpha."
The witches had tried. They had exhausted every means of magic, every spell, every ritual. And still, the mark remained. Still, his daughter suffered. And now, now he was supposed to stand by and allow that beast to claim her? To touch her? To defile her?
No.
With an enraged growl, Valerion grabbed the nearest piece of furniture—a heavy oak table—and hurled it across the room. It shattered into splinters against the stone wall. The sound barely registered in his ears before he turned to the bookshelves, sweeping his arm across them. Ancient tomes and delicate artifacts crashed to the floor in a violent cascade, pages fluttering like broken wings. His throne-like chair was the next to meet his wrath, sent flying into the far wall where it cracked apart on impact.
Still, his rage burned hotter.
He tore through his chambers like a storm, destroying anything within reach. His hand shot forward, grabbing a goblet of wine only to crush it in his grip, dark liquid spilling like blood over his pale skin. His breath came in ragged heaves as he reached for the final piece of his destruction—a large, ornate painting hanging on the far wall.
His fingers curled around the gilded frame, ready to rip it from its place and reduce it to nothing. But just as he was about to, he froze.
The flames in his eyes dimmed slightly as he finally saw what he was about to destroy.
The painting was untouched amidst the chaos. The only thing in the room that remained standing.
Seraphina.
His wife’s raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, her ethereal beauty immortalized in oil and canvas. Her golden eyes, so full of warmth and love, stared back at him with an expression he hadn’t seen in centuries. Azrael looks so much like her mother.
A strangled breath left his lips as his fury dissipated like smoke in the wind. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the painting from the wall and carried it to the floor. His powerful frame, once so tense with rage, now crumbled as he slumped down against the cold stone.
He traced his fingers along the delicate strokes of paint, as if touching her face. His throat clenched.
"So this is it? Are the Gods now punishing me for what I did to you all those years ago?"
His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. His fingers trembled as they ghosted over Seraphina’s painted lips, his vision blurring as his mind drifted back to the past. To her. To what he had done.
And now… now fate was laughing at him.
His daughter, his Azrael, was suffering. The only way to save her was through the same abomination he had spent his life hating. The same creatures that had taken her from him.
Was this his punishment?
A broken, bitter laugh escaped him as he pressed his forehead against the painting. He had spent centuries being untouchable. Being the Valerion. Feared. Respected. Unchallenged.
But not by the Gods.
The Gods were cruel. And now, they had found a way to make even him powerless.
Far away, in a place untouched by light, a dark room sat bathed in the glow of flickering candles. The scent of wine and burning incense filled the air, mingling with the sound of soft purring.
A woman lounged in a velvet chair, cradling a crystal goblet of deep red liquid in one hand while her other stroked the sleek black cat curled in her lap.
She was beautiful—hauntingly so. Long, flowing red hair cascaded down her back like molten fire, her violet eyes gleaming with amusement as she watched the flames dance. Her lips curled into a smirk as she swirled the wine in her goblet.
"How delightful," she murmured to herself.
The lycans believed the vampires had struck first. The vampires believed the lycans had made the first move. Both sides had declared war, blinded by their hatred and bloodlust.
And now, now she had learned of something even more unexpected.
"The vampire princess and the Lycan Alpha are mates."
She chuckled, reclining further into her seat. She had not planned for this, but oh, how convenient it was.
She could use this.
She would twist this.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips as she set down her wineglass.
It was time to accelerate her plans.
She rose gracefully from her chair, the cat jumping off her lap with a soft hiss as she moved. Her long black gown trailed behind her as she approached the heavy iron door at the far end of the chamber.
With an eerie hum, she placed her hand against it. The magic embedded in the metal shivered at her touch, recognizing its mistress.
The door creaked open, revealing utter darkness beyond. A damp, heavy scent filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.
She stepped inside.
The chamber was vast, cavernous, its walls lined with thick chains that rattled with every shift of the monstrosity imprisoned within.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the shadows, accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against stone.
The beast was massive, its body a grotesque fusion of muscle and malformed fur. Patches of flesh were exposed, twisted with dark veins that pulsed with unnatural energy. Its talons—long, jagged things—curled against the ground like blackened spears.
And its eyes… its eyes burned with a blood-red hunger.
A cruel, indulgent smile spread across the woman’s face as she stepped forward, unfazed by the abomination before her.
She reached out, gently running her fingers along the creature’s snout. It trembled under her touch, its breath heavy and ragged.
"You've done well, my boy," she murmured softly, almost tenderly. "Very soon, we will bring death to each and every single one of them that hurt us."
The beast let out a low, shuddering growl, as if in understanding.
She laughed. A slow, sinister sound that echoed through the chamber like a haunting melody.
Then her laughter turned into something else.
A maniacal, triumphant cackle that shook the very walls of the abyss.