The night was young, cloaked in the kind of silence that only the ancient could hear.
Lysandra—no, Selene—drove through the twisting mountain roads with the windows down, letting the cold wind whip her hair back. The forest stretched wide and endless on either side, but the stars above… they burned brighter than she remembered.
She leaned back in the leather seat of her car, fingers drumming on the wheel, lips curled into a half-smile that had once made kings tremble.
> "So," she murmured, voice now lined with something old, "my brothers have awakened too."
She could feel them.
Far in the distance—two heartbeats no mortal could detect. One was cold and restrained—Victor, the tactician. The other… wild and storming like a star ready to collapse—Alaric.
But that wasn't what stirred her soul the most.
There was a third aura. Smaller. Familiar. Gentle yet powerful, a mix of raw chaos and divine magic. Selene narrowed her eyes, lips curving with satisfaction.
> "So the soul of Karena Carello lives… again."
Selene's fingers tightened around the wheel as visions flickered in her mind. Karena—… the woman who loved Alaric, who bore his twin children and died because of betrayal.
> "Fate is never done with us," Selene whispered.
She looked ahead at the towering gates that now appeared from the mist.
Ravenshade Manor.
Once, it had been a sanctuary. Then, a battlefield. Now, it stood as a relic, a dormant castle that had been waiting—for her.
As the gate recognized her aura, it groaned open.
No spells, no guards, no resistance.
It had been waiting for her return for centuries.
She parked the car and stepped out, her heeled boots clicking against the mossy cobblestone. The air was thicker here. Ancient. Laced with memories she had buried deep in blood and time.
And still—Selene smiled.
Inside these walls, her blood once ruled.
Inside these halls, her screams and laughter once echoed.
Inside this house…
she would awaken it all again.
---
As she stepped into the manor, the dusty chandeliers flickered on.
Not by electricity.
But by recognition.
She walked down the hall, brushing her hand along the stone wall until she reached the room that once belonged to her—everything untouched, preserved by magic.
And then, she stopped.
A vision slammed into her.
Alaric.
Alaric, half-bleeding, collapsing under an arrow of cursed magic.
And a girl—no, a woman—rushing to him. Her aura blazing gold and deep violet, her power laced in moonlight and royal witchcraft.
> "Karena…"
Selene exhaled.
> "She's back… and she remembers him."
This era wasn't just one of survival.
It was the age of resurgence.
The bloodlines had begun to move.
Curses were breaking.
The sleeping gods were stirring in their graves.
And Selene had returned not just to remember—but to reclaim everything they lost.
> "Victor… Alaric… Karena…"
"Let's see if the world can survive us a second time."
Morning sunlight filtered into the drawing room. Alaric sat on the settee, Seraphine curled beside him, while Carlos stood leaning by the window, arms crossed.
A raven arrived, black as ink and with a scroll bound in gold.
Alaric took the letter, unrolling it with a frown.
To Duke Alaric Vaelthorne of Ravenshade,
By decree of the Grand Council of Dominion, the intended union between yourself and Lady Seraphine Delacroix is hereby denied.
Reason: Her blood is not of noble or registered lineage. She is unfit to become the wife of a Duke.
Seraphine's heart sank. Her fingers curled in the fabric of her dress.
Carlos's voice was dry with restrained anger. "They know."
Alaric looked up. "You're certain?"
Carlos nodded grimly. "They've discovered she's Elira. That's why they're severing the bond before it deepens. They fear what you two can become."
Seraphine's eyes widened. "They're rejecting me because of what I am…?"
"No," Alaric said, pulling her close. "Because of what we are. Together."
Before the tension could settle, the sound of gravel crunching under tires broke the quiet.
A car.
All three rose and walked to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard.
A sleek obsidian vehicle came to a halt. The door opened.
A woman stepped out—tall, elegant, and breathtaking. Her long silver-blonde hair shimmered in the light. Her gown fluttered with enchantment woven into every thread. Her aura hit them like a ripple in the fabric of reality.
Carlos stiffened instantly.
Alaric's eyes narrowed. "No..."
The woman looked up, her sapphire eyes twinkling. "Brothers, I believe you've forgotten your little sister."
Carlos blinked. "Selene...?"
She smiled wider. "I go by Lysandra now. Lysandra Moonwell. Of course, you've both chosen drama as usual. And look—Karena is here, too. Again."
Seraphine's jaw parted slightly in confusion. "She knows me?"
Lysandra tossed her hair and sauntered through the estate's entrance as if she owned the place. "You always did like theatrics, Karena. Falling into a human life. Falling for Alaric—again."
Carlos stared at her, stunned. "You were reincarnated too?"
She winked. "Seems fate wasn't done with any of us."
Alaric and Carlos exchanged a long, grim glance.
The past was no longer buried.
It had returned in flesh and blood.
And the storm it brought would either reunite or ruin them all.
Alaric leaned back against the mahogany chair, his expression visibly baffled as pieces of the past rearranged themselves in his mind.
He narrowed his eyes at the siblings before him—Carlos, who once was Victor, and Selene, now reborn as Lysandra. Their interactions held a strange, almost familial rhythm. And something about the aura of the current Vellaria clan—the reigning vampire nobility—matched theirs too closely.
Then, as if finally connecting the dots, Alaric asked slowly, his voice low with disbelief:
"Wait… you two—were you married before? You birthed the reigning Vellaria vampires? Our bloodline…?"
Carlos blinked, his jaw tightening at the suggestion.
But Selene burst into laughter.
A bright, echoing sound that filled the study and cut through the tension like sunlight. She clutched her side, her head tilting with amused fondness toward her older brother.
"Oh, you silly big brother," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Your mind is always full of romance. It's endearing… and incredibly wrong in this case."
Carlos rolled his eyes and looked away, muttering under his breath, "Why does everyone assume that…"
Serene walked closer and leaned against the edge of the desk, her expression now composed but still amused.
"Yes, we birthed the Vellaria heirs—six of them, strong, beautiful, ruthless." She smiled faintly with a hint of maternal pride. "But no, Alaric. There was no need for intimacy. We found a trusted doctor from the Elven Valley, one skilled in ancient blood sciences. He extracted Victor's cells and implanted them into my womb. A bloodline preserved. Calculated. Controlled."
Alaric blinked. "So… it was intentional. To create pureblood heirs."
"Exactly," Serene said. "A logical union, not a romantic one. Victor's only romantic attachment ever was Karena."
Carlos flinched at the name.
Seraphine, seated quietly beside Alaric, looked at Carlos with a softened gaze. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"You never loved Selene?"
Carlos looked at her, eyes weary but honest.
"Never like that." He glanced at his sister. "We were bound by duty, by legacy. But feeding off each other? Sharing that kind of bond? No."
Serene wrinkled her nose dramatically. "Ugh. I would never want to feed on Victor. He's… like licking old parchment—bitter, dramatic, and full of unresolved issues."
Alaric chuckled softly despite himself.
Carlos grunted. **"Thanks, sister. Truly."
Seraphine allowed a small smile. "Then why go through with the children?"
Selene looked directly at her. "Because our blood was dying. After your death—as Karena—and Alaric's fall, the Council tightened their grip. The pure lines were thinning. We needed to ensure the Vellaria legacy didn't vanish. We did what we had to… even if it meant giving up our personal desires."
Alaric stared at them, quietly stunned by the weight of that sacrifice.
"And yet..." he murmured, glancing at Seraphine, "...fate still brought us back here. Together. Changed, but still bound."
Selene nodded solemnly.
"The blood always remembers, brother. No matter how many lifetimes we bleed through."