The morning sun rose with cruel brightness.
Lysandra sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at her phone screen.
Wedding Day: Caveen Landon and Madeline Vilmire.
The headline made her breath hitch. Even if she didn't want to see it, even if she had sworn she wouldn't care—the world had a way of shoving the truth down her throat.
She turned off her phone.
No more notifications. No more names. No more past.
With slow, mechanical movements, she stood up and pulled the suitcase from the top of her closet. She had packed it days ago, just in case her heart couldn't take it.
And it couldn't.
Last night, she gave him everything.
Again.
Knowing it was the last.
She traced her lips with her fingers, remembering the way he kissed her… like he still belonged to her, like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
He still left.
She was foolish to hope.
So Lysandra did the only thing she had control over—she chose to disappear.
---
By mid-afternoon, Lysandra was at the airport, dark sunglasses hiding the puffiness of her eyes. She wore a plain beige coat and carried a small brown luggage bag, blending in with the rest of the world—something she never got to do around Elites.
No one would suspect she was once marked by a Landon heir.
No one would know she once bled magic and heartbreak all in the same breath.
Her destination?
A quiet, coastal town in the human realm—far from any Elite territory.
No power.
No bloodlines.
No curses.
Just a small clinic where they needed a doctor, a place where no one asked about the past.
When the plane took off, Lysandra looked out the window, her hand pressed to the glass.
She didn't cry.
Not anymore.
She had cried enough for a man who never chose her.
---
That night, in her tiny new apartment overlooking the harbor, she unpacked in silence. The air smelled like salt and freedom.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
No more makeup.
No more glamour.
No more trying to hide her pain with smiles.
She whispered to herself:
> "This is my new life.
No Caveen.
No past.
Just me."
But in the silence of the night, when the world finally slept,
she clutched her chest…
and grieved for the version of her that still loved him.
The sea air was calm that night.
Lysandra stood by her window, arms wrapped around herself as the ocean wind swept into her small apartment. The moon hung low—bleeding red against the horizon. She hadn't slept in days, not really. Every time she closed her eyes, something strange waited.
Not dreams.
Memories.
And they weren't hers.
---
Night One
She was running barefoot through a forest shrouded in silver fog. Her laughter echoed with something ancient. She was wearing a deep crimson gown, her feet never truly touching the ground. Two boys chased her—one with sharp grey eyes and a fierce jaw, the other with dark, soulful eyes and a tender smile.
She knew their names.
Victor.
Alaric.
Her brothers.
She awoke gasping for air, fingers curled into the bedsheet as if clinging to the past.
---
Night Two
A castle tower. Firelight. A man with long white hair and a crown of twisted bone. His eyes were wild, red as blood. Her father.
He whispered in her ear:
> "You are my daughter, Selene. And you will live forever."
Then pain. Screaming. Rituals.
Blood—too much blood.
And her hands soaked in it.
When she woke up, her gums ached. Her fangs… had begun to grow.
---
Night Three
This time she didn't wake screaming.
She awoke… glowing.
Moonlight pooled on her bed, yet her skin shimmered darker than shadow. Her heartbeat was gone—replaced with a cold, deep thrum that echoed in her bones.
Lysandra stumbled to the mirror.
What she saw wasn't the doctor from Landon anymore.
Her eyes… were glowing violet.
Her aura, once sealed, now surged wildly like it had remembered a million years of power in an instant.
And then—
A name burned in her head like fire:
> Selene Vellaria.
The First Vampire Daughter.
The Progenitor of the Vampires.
Forgotten… Reborn.
She fell to her knees, gripping the edge of the sink, her fangs now fully grown, her breath cold as winter.
> "What… am I?" she whispered.
But the answer came like a voice from within:
> "You are Selene. And you have slept long enough."
---
Lysandra is no more. Selene has awakened.
And the world…
the Council and even the bloodlines themselves—will never be the same.