Dawn bathed the ruins of the old Ghali castle in a warmth that Skiller—the vampire who defied the rules of his kind—felt as a personal triumph. Walking through the dew-covered gardens under the radiant sun, watching the flowers bloom, he remembered how far he had come and how much further he could go.
Inside the castle, his thoughts wandered to Aisha and the tangled connections between her and the Ghali brothers. As he wandered the halls, he came upon a half-open door—and the scene inside stopped him cold.
Sanathiel, dressed in nothing but a towel, stood close to the bed where Aisha lay sleeping. Together, in the same room.
His eyes filled with confusion and annoyance.
"Aisha! What the hell is going on here?" Skiller barked, raising an eyebrow in clear irritation from the doorway.
Aisha shot upright, startled by his voice.
"What are you two doing here?! Sanathiel, why are you in my room?!"
"You threw up on my shirt last night," Sanathiel replied matter-of-factly, raising his hands as if to calm her. "If I hadn't been here, I don't know what mess you might have caused."
"Get out, White Wolf. You heard her. Leave," Skiller growled, his tone laced with irritation.
"Out, both of you!" Aisha shouted, throwing pillows at them.
The tense morning was quickly interrupted by an invitation from the Ghali brothers: "Join us at the Villa. We hope you accept this gesture of kindness. —Dario."
Both men got ready; they had to continue with the agreed plans, Sanathiel reminded them.
The villa wasn't far from the castle. It was a radiant day, and Dario, dressed in white with his usual courtesy, suggested:
"It might be nice if Aisha and Daesa spent some time together—get to know each other better."
Aisha reluctantly agreed. Though she distrusted Daesa's intentions, she offered Sanathiel a faint smile.
"I'll be fine, Wolf. Trust me."
What was meant to be a short outing turned into something far more. While Sanathiel and Dario visited an orphanage, Daesa led Aisha to a sprawling field of red and blue roses, cultivated with obsessive precision—a reflection of Daesa's need for control and perfection. She walked beside Aisha with a smile that aimed for warmth but hid something far darker. Only the parasol at her side shielded them from the sun.
"This is my little sanctuary," Daesa said, opening a trapdoor that led to a dusty attic.
At the center of the room sat an old trunk, which she encouraged Aisha to open. Inside were aged photographs of Sanathiel, Varek, Skiller, and Dimitri, all smiling innocently.
One photo, hidden and gripped tightly in Daesa's hands with reverent emotion, drew Aisha's attention.
"It's precious to you. It's okay if you don't want to show it."
"He was the love of my life. Lionel," Daesa whispered, her voice laced with sorrow and bitterness. Her hand trembled as she continued, "But I lost him… all because of someone like you."
Her biting tone left Aisha speechless.
"I… I don't understand. This must be a mistake. I never knew about this, Daesa. I never meant to hurt you."
Daesa laughed, bitter and twisted.
"It's not about what you knew, Aisha. It's what you caused. If you had just stayed with Varek, none of this would've happened. Lionel loved me—but he always looked at you differently."
Her words struck like daggers. Aisha felt the weight of guilt, even if she didn't fully understand its roots. She stepped outside for air, only to realize her phone had no signal.
Daesa reappeared with a seemingly serene smile.
"Come, let me show you the newest bed of blue roses."
I should leave.
"Come with me, Aisha... unless you don't want the truth."
Soon, they boarded a small plane that flew over the vast garden. Aisha looked down, impressed by the land's scale.
"Is the plane leaving?" she asked, realizing there was no return transport.
Daesa's voice was soft—barely a whisper.
"I've made my decision. I'm erasing my suffering here."
Upon landing, Daesa dragged two baskets filled with roses. The first, packed with red petals, she hurled into the abyss with violent finality.
"Nothing hurts more than being replaced," she said, calmly removing her hat and gloves. "Do you know what that feels like, Aisha?"
Aisha tried to calm her, but Daesa cut her off, tossing the second basket at her. Blue roses scattered at her feet, their heavy scent choking the air.
"You're a filthy woman who steals what isn't hers. Lionel should never have looked at you the way he did. You ruined my life."
Aisha stepped back, but Daesa, hands trembling, pulled a gun and pointed it at her face.
"You're still alive. And to Lionel, I'm already dead. That's not fair."
The struggle was inevitable. Amid screams and shoves, they tumbled onto the rocky cliff's edge. Bruised and gasping, Aisha clung to a jagged stone while Daesa, consumed by rage, tried to push her into the void.
"Don't ever cross my path again!" Daesa screamed, eyes burning with hatred.
Aisha summoned what little strength she had and pulled a dagger from her boot, driving it into a nearby crack for support.
"Daesa, stop this. If one of us falls—we both die!"
"Don't make me laugh," Daesa sneered, her eyes darkening. "I married Skiller Snova to protect Lionel from Sanathiel. I got that ring to enter his 'City of Shadows' for Lionel. But he gave it to you like it meant nothing—and you handed it over to the Lord of the Shadows. That's what I hate the most! If only you had stayed with Varek, none of this would've happened!"
"Don't lean, Daesa!" Aisha yelled, pleading with her to come back from the edge.
But Daesa ignored the warning. She raised the gun once more, aiming at Aisha's head.
"Just die already," she whispered coldly, her hand shaking as she pulled the trigger.
Aisha shut her eyes, frozen in terror—but in a desperate move, she grabbed the weapon. The first shot rang out, its echo ripping through the ravine.
Her heart pounded so violently she feared it might burst.
The second shot cracked like thunder through the canyon.
Aisha's stomach dropped as she saw Daesa stumble, her face twisted in fury and bitter resignation, as if she'd accepted her fate.
"Skiller will never be yours… I won't allow it."
Then—she let go.
Aisha screamed her name, but it was too late. She watched her fall, her figure vanishing into the depths.
The sickening sound of impact made Aisha hold her breath. For one eternal moment, the world stopped.
Then—the roar of rotor blades sliced the air.
Guards descended quickly.
But something was wrong.
They didn't help her.
Instead, she felt cold metal clamp around her wrists.
"You are under arrest for attempted murder."
Aisha gasped, her mind spinning in panic.
"That's not what happened! You have to listen to me!" she screamed, struggling against their grip.
But no one listened.
From the sky, her eyes met Daesa's—her face bloodied, barely conscious—but smiling.
She had won.
The storm had only just begun.