CHAPTER 56

**SOPHIA**

I am so close, yet so far from her. The pain of the distance between us—so short physically, yet insurmountable due to all the other circumstances—is unbearable.

I can't go to her, I can't afford to show weakness or emotion here.

I see the tears welling in my mother's eyes, and it only intensifies the pain I am feeling.

She sees me, just as I see her, and it seems she understands, even without words, that I cannot approach her. Her shoulders slump slightly, but she holds her posture as strong as she has always been.

There is something inevitably cruel about being so close and yet unable to touch.

I continue walking, feeling the heavy fabric of my dress in my hands.

The touch of the fabric, and the pressure of the surrounding guards, all seem so distant now. My steps are slow and hesitant, but each one takes me closer to the fate I cannot avoid.

The grand hall is full, and all eyes seem to be on me. The vampires filling the room watch my every move, and I keep my head low, trying to avoid their penetrating and curious stares.

With each step on the red carpet, the weight of the circumstances grows heavier.

I look ahead and see the throne, still empty, and the gleaming crown of the dead king resting solemnly on a nearby table.

The light reflects off the jewels in the crown, creating an intense shine that makes me tremble. The power it represents is overwhelming. A cold sensation runs through my body, and I feel the weight of everyone’s expectations pressing down on me.

I turn and face the crowd, searching for my mother again, and our eyes meet once more.

Her hands are trembling, just like mine, and the desire to be close to her only grows.

The people around me bow, and the collective movement pulls me back to reality. Slowly, I turn my head toward the great doors of the hall. My heart pounds in my chest as I hear the heavy sound of them opening, revealing the figure everyone has been waiting for.

The vampire prince enters, and the entire room seems to hold its breath.

He is dressed in black, with a long blood-red cape falling from his shoulders to the floor. His imposing presence fills the room, and the chill I feel upon seeing him is different from the cold of the forest.

It is a shiver that comes from within, a mixture of fear and respect. His eyes are intense, and his posture is commanding as he walks slowly down the red carpet toward the throne.

I tremble at the sight of him, unable to control my body’s reaction.

My knees nearly give out under the pressure of the moment, and I realize I am the only person in the room who has not bowed to him. I feel the fresh tears on my face, and for a moment, our eyes meet.

The prince looks confused, as if he does not understand the reason for my tears. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of expectations, and bow like everyone else, my heart racing and heavy with emotions I cannot express.

When I open my eyes again, I see the prince still watching me as he walks down the carpet.

There is something in his eyes that makes me feel exposed, as if he is trying to decipher the reason for my crying and understand what is happening inside me. But I cannot let him know.

Not now. I keep my head low as he continues walking.

When he finally passes, everyone lifts their heads, and my eyes immediately find Adam, walking just behind the prince.

He carries a sword as a gesture of honor, and his posture is that of a perfect guard.

But when his golden eyes meet mine, I feel a wave of warmth wash over me.

In the midst of the formality and tension of the ceremony, there is something in his gaze that comforts me.

He sees me, truly, in the midst of all this.

We exchange no words, but the look between us is enough to give me strength.

Adam follows the prince to the throne, and as he passes me, a calm I did not expect settles in my heart. I know he is here, and that is enough for now.

The hall is silent, and everyone present is focused on the beginning of the ceremony.

The prince finally stops in front of the throne, and the crown on the table glitters under the lights of the grand hall. The coronation is about to begin, and with it, the fate of all of us will be sealed.

The tension in the air is palpable. There is a mix of reverence, fear, and hope on the faces of the people around me.

The ceremony, which marks the end of one era and the beginning of another, carries the weight of the future.

It symbolizes the choices I will have to make, the sacrifices I will have to face, and the uncertainty of the path ahead.

With bated breath, I watch as the prince prepares to accept the mantle of royalty.

At the same time, my gaze drifts for a moment back to my mother.

As the words echo through the hall, reverberating down the corridors of the castle, I feel my hands begin to tremble.

The prince stands before the throne, awaiting the moment of his coronation, while the solemn speech of the elders resounds in every corner.

The words feel distant, as if they are coming from somewhere else, and I can barely focus on what is being said. My mind is elsewhere, with the one person who matters most to me now: my mother.

I want to run to her, to hug her with all the strength I have left, to feel the warmth of her arms again, but I know that is impossible. I know the prince would never allow such a display of weakness.