Kyra sat motionless in the center of Soraya's cottage, the scent of dried herbs and burning sage swirling around her. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, but inside, time had stilled. Soraya's gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames in the hearth, her voice a quiet tremor.
"There's something you need to see, Kyra. Something you need to feel."
The moment Soraya pressed her palm gently to Kyra's forehead, the world tilted. Everything faded—the walls, the warmth, the present. Kyra felt herself pulled backward through time, past layers of memory not her own.
Then, as if stepping into another life, the vision overtook her completely.
---
A Flashback — Years Ago
The Chamber of Judgment lay hidden beneath the roots of the sacred ashwood tree, its walls carved from obsidian stone and veined with glowing symbols pulsing in silent rhythm. Only the most ancient among the coven and clan had ever stepped foot here. It was where magic bent to the law, where bloodlines were put on trial. Tonight, it held the weight of two lives—and one unborn soul.
Elira's hands were bound in silver-threaded vines. Her feet dragged over the cold floor of the chamber. Beside her, Lucien stood tall but shaken, his usually commanding presence flickering beneath fear.
The elders of both the coven and vampire council sat in a perfect circle—six from the witches, six from the vampire high court. At the center stood the High Counselor, a woman cloaked in white with eyes the color of fading fire. The chamber's energy shimmered with rage, disappointment, and disbelief.
"You stand accused of committing the gravest of sins," the High Counselor said, her voice echoing. "Uniting flesh before the siring, and conceiving a child not sanctified by our laws. This is no simple betrayal. This is abomination."
Elira raised her chin, defiance and sorrow playing war behind her eyes. "It was love."
"Love?" a vampire elder sneered. "Love has no place when the natural order is threatened."
Lucien stepped forward, or tried to—the guards yanked him back by his chains. "I claimed her not in dominance but in devotion. I protected her. I never forced her."
"It doesn't matter!" thundered another witch elder. "Elira was not sired. She had not come into her full magic. She was still in transition. The binding laws state clearly—before the age of twenty-five, the blood must not mix."
Whispers swirled around the chamber, as if the very walls disapproved. One elder, face aged like cracked bark, leaned forward.
"What lies in her womb is not just a child. It is a fusion of premature essence. Magic unformed. Vampire blood unclaimed. It may live, or it may destroy."
The silence that followed was deafening.
The High Counselor stood. "By decree of both the Coven and the Clan, we pass the sentence."
Elira gasped quietly, her fingers tightening over her belly. Lucien's entire body tensed, his eyes darting between her and the elders.
"You shall be executed," the Counselor said. "Here, beneath the roots that bore us. And the unborn shall perish with you."
A gasp tore through the room—some in horror, others in approval. Soraya, seated at the farthest corner, closed her eyes, her fists clenching in her lap.
Elira's scream wasn't one of fear—it was rage, pure and broken. "No! You can't! This child is not a weapon. She is hope!"
Lucien shouted, his voice cracking, "I beg you—take me instead! Spare her!"
But the elders would not bend. Guards stepped forward, magic sparking in their palms. The floor began to hum, the glowing sigils growing brighter as the execution ritual was invoked. The air thickened. The magic was binding itself to the sentence.
And then—
A sound like a heartbeat echoed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The chamber shuddered. A pulse of red light burst from Elira's womb, flaring across the room like lightning trapped in blood. The guards were thrown back. The elders froze.
Soraya's voice trembled in the background of Kyra's mind, narrating softly. "No one knew what it was. But in that moment, the unborn child awakened. Her essence surged—not as witch, not as vampire. But something beyond."
Elira was lifted from the ground by unseen force. Her eyes glowed silver. Lucien, too, began to levitate, surrounded by dark mist. The floor cracked, the roots above groaned, and a voice echoed—not Elira's, not Lucien's. But ancient.
"She is marked by the first blood. You shall not touch her."
Gasps rippled through the elders. The guards dared not move. The Counselor's face paled.
"What…what is this?" one elder whispered.
The light grew stronger. It burned into the walls, rewriting old sigils into new ones. Runes of protection. Runes of binding.
And then—
Silence.
Elira hovered, still cradling her belly. Her eyes wept streams of silver. Lucien's body descended slowly. The vines holding them snapped like dry twigs.
The High Counselor, voice shaking, stepped back. "The chamber has been…overridden. The old magic has spoken."
Before anyone could respond, the chamber doors slammed shut on their own, locking out all who stood outside. The judgment had been passed—but not by the council. Something older, something deeper, had taken hold.
---
Back in the Present
The vision cracked like broken glass, and Kyra stumbled back into the present, clutching Soraya's wrist.
"What happened next?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
Soraya turned toward the window, her voice soft. "They were taken, yes. But not to be killed. The elders decided to hold them until the origin of the force could be understood. That night changed everything. And yet…it was only the beginning."
To be continued.