The vision haunted Evelyn long after it faded: Seraphine, once the face of cruelty, kneeling before something worse. Someone worse. A crown of ash glowed in the firelight, resting not on Seraphine's head—but on a shadow standing behind her.
Evelyn stood in silence for hours after that vision. The well no longer glowed, but her hands trembled as if it still pulsed with energy.
Lucien was the one who broke the silence. "We need answers."
Evelyn looked at him. "We need someone who understands what I saw."
"There's only one person who might," Lucien said. "Someone you won't want to see."
Elara.
They returned to camp just before dawn. The fires had died down to glowing coals. Elara was awake, sitting by the embers with her sword across her knees.
She looked up when she saw them. Her expression was unreadable.
"You found the well," she said, as if she'd known where Evelyn had gone all along.
Evelyn nodded. "It's true. What I saw… what I remembered… It wasn't a lie. Our mother was burned by the village. Because of what she could do."
Elara's jaw tightened. "I always suspected."
Lucien stepped in. "There's more. Evelyn saw someone in a vision. A man with a crown made of ash. Seraphine bowed to him."
At this, Elara froze.
"You know who it is," Evelyn said, watching her sister closely. "Don't you?"
Elara hesitated. Then she stood, pacing slowly. "When I was taken by Seraphine… when she tried to break me… she spoke of a power older than any vampire, any seer, or mage. A king who ruled before the bloodlines split."
Lucien frowned. "A myth."
"No," Elara said, her voice cold. "Not a myth. A curse. A being called Noctarion. The first vampire. The first betrayer."
Evelyn felt a chill run through her. "She bowed to him."
Elara looked at her. "Then he's risen."
They left before nightfall, traveling north to the ruins of Sable Hollow—a hidden vault where legends said Noctarion had been sealed in the age of flame. It was a place few dared speak of, let alone enter.
As they crossed the snowy plains, the wind began to scream like a warning.
Lucien walked beside Evelyn. "If this thing really is your father…"
She stopped him with a glance. "He's not my father. The man who held me as a baby, who sang to me, who disappeared without a trace—that man is dead. Whatever wears his face now… is a monster."
Lucien nodded. "Then we kill him. Together."
For the first time since the well, Evelyn smiled faintly. "You're not afraid?"
Lucien tilted his head. "Terrified. But I'd rather die with you than live running from this."
She took his hand and squeezed it. "You won't die. Not today."
Sable Hollow looked like a scar carved into the earth—jagged black rocks, twisted trees, and a mouth-like cave that exhaled frost.
Elara touched the stone at the entrance. "It's sealed."
Evelyn stepped forward. "I can open it. I think it wants me to."
She pressed her hands against the stone and whispered in the old tongue—words that weren't taught but born inside her.
The stone shuddered and cracked.
The gate opened.
They descended into darkness, torches barely holding back the thick, unnatural night. The deeper they went, the colder it became. Time seemed to stretch.
At the bottom was a chamber filled with broken thrones and crumbled statues. But at the center stood a single obsidian coffin—tall and jagged, like a monument to fear itself.
Evelyn approached slowly. "He's inside."
Before Lucien could speak, the coffin began to bleed smoke.
A voice echoed through the cavern—deep, ancient, and full of hunger.
"Daughter of blood... bearer of sight... do you finally seek the truth?"
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "I seek your end."
A burst of laughter filled the chamber. The smoke swirled, forming a face.
Her father's.
"Noctarion," she whispered.
"Not yet whole," the voice replied. "But close. Thanks to your mercy. Thanks to Seraphine's escape."
Lucien drew his blade. "We'll seal you again."
But the shadows exploded outward, forming arms, wings—creatures.
Wraiths.
The fight began in an instant. Elara shouted, slashing through a smoky figure. Lucien dodged a tendril and drove his sword into a glowing sigil. Evelyn unleashed her light, but it barely held them back.
In the chaos, the coffin cracked.
Evelyn turned toward it.
"No!"
She raised both hands and screamed, pouring every memory, every wound, every loss into her magic.
The wraiths shrieked. The coffin glowed.
Then—it stopped.
Silence fell.
Noctarion's voice whispered one last time:
"You delay fate... but the crown of ash will rise. You will kneel... or burn."
The shadows vanished. The coffin turned to dust.
Evelyn collapsed, breathing hard. Lucien caught her.
"It's not over," she said.
Lucien nodded. "But we have time now."
Evelyn looked at the black dust in her hands, then at her sister.
Elara's voice was soft. "He'll come for you again."
Evelyn stood slowly. "Let him. I won't run."