Chapter 2 The Werid Change
No one walked into a meeting with vampires and came out clean.
Aurora Moon did it anyway.
The glass tower of House Elyndra glittered like a needle above the Night Market half cathedral, half trap. The air up here was too thin, too cold, too still. A thousand feet below, thunder crawled between skyscrapers, dragging the scent of wet iron.
Inside the conference hall, four Houses faced each other across a table carved from onyx. Fae mirrors lined the walls, turning every movement into a dozen reflections. Only Aurora refused to sit.
She didn’t submit. Not anymore.
House Varex sent her because she could scare a demon into prayer. The wolves wanted a weapon at the table, not a diplomat. So there she stood six feet of controlled fury wrapped in black leather and authority, silver eyes burning brighter than the storm outside.
When the elevator chimed, the temperature dropped.
A vampire stepped out.
He didn’t smell like Noctra too clean, too quiet. He was all angles and pale restraint, the kind of man who looked like he’d bled once and learned to make it art. His posture was impeccable; his gaze was disarmingly steady.
“Jasper Azelle,” he said, voice smooth enough to pass as silk. “I’m here on behalf of House Noctra.”
Aurora’s lip curved. “You’re early. Vampires usually arrive fashionably dead.”
He bowed slightly. “I find punctuality helps prevent accidents.”
“Or causes them.”
The fae moderator fluttered nervous wings. “Please, we are here to discuss the artifact ”
“The Lunasanguine,” Jasper said, the word rolling out like a confession.
Every head turned.
Aurora froze before she could stop herself. The relic’s name had been buried for centuries. Only scholars and grave robbers whispered it now.
“You should be careful saying that out loud,” she said. “Legends tend to wake when you call them.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Jasper replied.
He took a seat at the table, folding long fingers over each other. A scar cut the inside of his wrist thin, old, precise. The kind you earn from ritual, not battle. Aurora’s instincts pricked.
She circled the table, each step a quiet challenge. “The Lunasanguine’s a myth. A bedtime story for fools who think wolves and vampires can share anything but a battlefield.”
Jasper looked up, meeting her eyes. “You don’t believe in peace?”
“I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
Lightning flared beyond the glass, staining the room blood-white. For a moment, his reflection merged with hers in the mirror behind him wolf and vampire, predator and prey. When the light faded, her pulse hadn’t quite settled.
The fae spoke again, careful and cold. “The Accord among Houses demands transparency. If either of you possesses knowledge of this relic...”
“I have proof,” Jasper interrupted.
He reached into his coat, slow and deliberate, producing a small velvet case. The air shifted; even the fae mirrors hummed. He opened it.
Inside lay a coin-sized disc of blackened silver veined with dark red light. The glow pulsed once heartbeat-slow and the room went silent.
Aurora’s wolf senses screamed wrong. The scent of the thing was ancient, metallic, and intimate—like the air just before blood hits the ground.
“What is that?” Korrin’s demon envoy rasped.
Jasper’s calm didn’t falter. “A fragment of the Lunasanguine. Found sealed inside a Noctra vault untouched since before the last war.”
Aurora crossed her arms. “You expect us to believe you brought the most dangerous artifact in history to a negotiation with no guards?”
“Guards make people nervous,” he said. “And I prefer my enemies to be relaxed.”
That earned him a grin from Korrin’s side. It earned Aurora’s attention for another reason entirely.
The wolves had legends about the Lunasanguine—a moon-forged relic that fed on the blood of opposites. Wolf and vampire. Power and surrender. It bound lovers and enemies alike, and it always demanded balance a union that could end wars or start them. Whispers spoke of blood moons where such bonds peaked, fusing essences in rites of passion and pain.
“You should have destroyed it,” she said quietly.
“I tried,” Jasper admitted. “I didn't like that.”
His tone was casual, but the faint tremor under it wasn’t. Aurora smelled the truth. Fear, clean and sharp, hidden behind centuries of etiquette.
She leaned closer. “You think you can control it.”
“I think it’s already choosing,” he said.
“Choosing what?”
He met her gaze, calm as a prayer. “Which of us dies first.”
For the first time that night, Aurora had no answer.
Thunder shattered the silence. The lights flickered once, twice and the Lunasanguine’s pulse quickened. Its glow spread up Jasper’s wrist where he held the case.
He didn’t flinch. He simply turned it toward her. “Touch it,” he said.
The fae moderator gasped. “That’s forbidden.”
But Aurora was already moving. Wolves don’t take orders; they test them. She reached out and let one claw trace the disc’s surface. The glow flared white, bright enough to carve every face in the room into bone.
Then, a vision hit her:
Two figures under a dying moon one with eyes like hers, one with Jasper’s stillness standing on a field of bodies, holding the same relic as if it were love itself. Fangs and claws intertwined in a rite beneath a blood moon, bodies yielding in ecstatic surrender.
When she blinked, it was gone. The coin cooled, silent again.
The demon envoy swore. The fae backed away. Jasper watched her, something unreadable flickering behind those smoke-grey eyes.
“You felt it,” he murmured.
She exhaled hard, steadying herself. “If this is a trick ”
“It isn’t.” He closed the case. “And now it’s your problem too.”
Aurora’s laugh was low and dangerous. “You should’ve left it buried, Noctra.”
“I thought so too,” he said, “until it started whispering your name.”
The floor seemed to tilt. Her wolf side recoiled, hackles rising. “My name?”
“Your full name,” he said. “Aurora Lysandra Moon. It spoke it the moment I found it.”
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Even the mirrors went dark.
Aurora forced a smile. “Then maybe it wants to see what happens when someone bites back.”
Jasper inclined his head, eyes glinting like the edge of a blade. “I was counting on it.”
The lights steadied. The air began to breathe again, though no one dared to. The meeting disbanded in silence fae whispering, demons retreating, wolves pretending not to be afraid.
Aurora waited until the room was empty. Jasper stood at the window, watching the storm.
“You planned this,” she said.
“Not the way you think,” he replied. “The Lunasanguine doesn’t obey plans. It just… hunts.”
“And what does it hunt?”
He looked at her, expression soft but lethal. “Pairs.”
Thunder cracked like laughter.
Aurora turned to leave, hand closing over the door. “If it’s hunting me,” she said, “it should know I bite back.”
She didn’t see his small smile as the lightning traced the glass again. “I’m counting on it.”