The air was thick with dust, and the ancient tomb reeked of decay. Isabella's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding as she adjusted to the dim light. She pushed herself up, her hands brushing against the gritty stone floor. The tomb was vast and ancient, lined with carved symbols glowing faintly in the dark.

And then she saw him.

Lucian stood near a towering coffin at the center of the tomb, his posture relaxed yet predatory. The dim light danced off his sharp features as he smirked at her.

"Rise up, sunshine," he drawled, his tone laced with mockery, his voice an uncanny mix of charm and menace.

Isabella's anger surged as she got to her feet. "What did you do at the party, Lucian?"

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You'll have to be more specific."

"The humans," she hissed, stepping closer. "The ones who disappeared into the pit. That was your doing, wasn't it?"

Lucian laughed, the sound low and almost hypnotic. "Do you really think I'd waste my time with something so... amateur? If I wanted to make a statement, everyone would know it was me. I don't hide behind tricks."

Isabella clenched her fists, her mind racing. She couldn't trust him, but his confidence made her doubt herself for a moment. "Then why am I here? What is this place?"

Lucian's smirk deepened as he gestured toward the massive coffin. "Salena," he said simply, his tone reverent and dark. "And you, my dear, made a promise. It's time to fulfill it."

"What promise?" Isabella snapped, though dread was already curling in her stomach.

Lucian stepped forward, holding out a weathered spellbook. The leather was cracked, the pages aged and brittle. "Your spell," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "The one that only you can cast. Open the seal. Finish the ritual."

Isabella stared at the book in his hands, her anger battling with fear. "Why would I do that?"

"For Lysandra," Lucian said, his smirk fading. His tone was calm but carried a dangerous edge. "You love her, don't you? And you know I don't make idle threats."

Her heart sank. Of course, it came back to Lysandra. Lucian knew exactly how to manipulate her, and now he held her best friend's life in his hands.

"This isn't about her," Isabella said, trying to steady her voice. "This is about power. Your power. What's in that coffin, just tell me truth?"

Lucian's smile returned, sharper this time. "Only the one person who can change everything. Now, stop stalling."

Isabella's mind screamed at her to run, to fight, but there was no choice. With trembling hands, she took the spellbook and flipped to the marked page. The symbols were strange yet familiar, the kind of magic that felt wrong but undeniable. As she began to chant,

"Sepulcrum vetus, sigillum solve.
Tenebrae recessent, lux aperiatur.
Manes antiqui, potestatem concede.
Coffinium clausum, aperire iubeo."

English Translation

"Ancient tomb, break the seal.
Shadows recede, let light open.
Ancient spirits, grant power.
Sealed coffin, I command to open."

The air grew heavier, crackling with energy. The tomb vibrated as the symbols on the coffin glowed brighter and brighter.

Lucian stepped back, watching intently as the seals binding the coffin began to break.

"You don't know what you're doing," Isabella said through gritted teeth, tears streaking her face as the spell took its toll on her body.

"No," Lucian said softly, his eyes locked on the coffin. "But you do."

The final word left Isabella's lips, and a deafening crack echoed through the tomb. The seals shattered, and the coffin burst open, sending a shockwave of energy that knocked Isabella to the ground. Blood trickled from her nose as she fainted, her magic draining from her body as punishment for breaking the ancient seal. She fainted.

From the coffin, a figure emerged.

Salena Varro stepped out, her movements fluid and feline. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, her ancient dress tattered yet regal. She ran her hands over her body, feeling the cool air against her skin for the first time in centuries.

"Finally," she breathed, her voice smooth and velvety. She glanced down at her torn clothes and smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips. "Though I could've done without the fashion statement."

Her dark eyes flicked to Lucian, who stood unmoving, his expression unreadable. She studied him for a moment, then let her gaze shift to Isabella's unconscious form.

"Your sunshine's out cold," Salena said, her tone mocking. "She's cute. Naïve, but cute. Tell me, Lucian, how long has it been?"

Lucian finally stepped forward, his smirk returning as he tilted his head. "Too long," he said simply.

Their eyes met, the air between them charged with a dangerous energy. Salena's smile widened as she took a step closer to him.

"Let's catch up," she purred. Start kissing Lucian. Their lips met she kissed on Lucians neck and the veins start appearing around her eyes, she open her mouth. Her teeth were sharp and dangerous. She holds Lucians head and drink blood from his neck. Throw him apart and with right hand she clean her mouth and said "let's the game begin." With a blur motion she left the tomb.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay as Felix crouched among the rubble of what was once Ravenholt Village. The charred remains of wooden beams jutted out like broken bones, and fragments of stone walls stood stubbornly against the test of time. The village had been a ghost of its former self for decades, ever since the massacre that turned it into a legend whispered in fear.

Felix's boots crunched over shards of glass and scattered debris. He paused in the center of the ruins, his breath visible in the chill air. His fingers brushed the edge of his family's crest engraved on a fallen stone. He had been here countless times before, chasing a dream, one that burned in his mind every night, vivid and unrelenting.

He rolled up his sleeve, staring at the intricate tattoo that had appeared a month ago. It spiraled across his forearm, a design he'd never seen before. It matched the markings in his dreams, the ones he now saw faintly etched into the broken stone at his feet.

Felix knelt, his hands trembling as he traced the unfamiliar patterns on the ground. Beneath the soot and dirt, something shimmered faintly-a glint of silver against the dull gray of the stone. His heart pounded as he dug with bare hands, ignoring the sting of sharp rocks cutting into his skin.

After several minutes of scraping and clawing, he unearthed it, a small, intricately carved box no bigger than his palm. It was blackened with age but adorned with faintly glowing runes, the same ones from his tattoo.

Felix's breath hitched. The box was warm to the touch, almost alive. He held it up, letting the dim light catch the etched figures on its surface. They depicted a massacre the raven insignia of the village hovering above the scene of chaos. Soldiers clashed with beasts, flames consumed the buildings.

A whisper broke the silence, faint yet chilling.

"The truth lies within, but are you ready to bear it?"

Felix jerked his head up, scanning the empty ruins. His hands tightened around the box. He didn't know what he had found yet, but he knew one thing for certain it wasn't meant to stay hidden forever.

Meanwhile at Aequoralis, The moon hung low in the sky, its violet hue casting an otherworldly glow across the darkened forest. Sirela stood at the edge of the enchanted lake, her feet sinking slightly into the cool, damp earth. The air was still, heavy with an unnatural silence that pressed against her ears. Slowly, she stepped into the water, her body slipping beneath the surface with practiced ease.

The lake was her sanctuary. Here, the whispers that haunted her quieted, and the endless pull of the water soothed the ache deep within her chest. Her siren form shimmered faintly under the moonlight, scales catching the light in iridescent flashes of teal and silver. Her long, wet hair fanned out around her as she floated effortlessly, her tail gliding smoothly through the water.

And then she saw it.

It wasn't unusual for her to catch her reflection in the lake's still surface, but tonight it felt... different. Her heart skipped as her eyes locked onto her image. At first, it was her-a girl with wide, sea-green eyes and soft features. But then, the image flickered, like a flame disturbed by the wind.

Her reflection shifted.

The face staring back at her wasn't her own. The eyes were sharper, glowing faintly with an ethereal light. The features were regal, almost unnaturally perfect, framed by a crown of pearls and coral. Sirela gasped and scrambled backward, water splashing violently as she broke the surface. But the image didn't fade. The queen in the lake stared back at her, lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Sirela..." The voice wasn't her own, but it came from her mouth-soft, lilting, yet filled with authority.

She stumbled out of the water, her tail shifting back into legs as she hit the shore. Her chest heaved with panic, and she clutched at her arms, the cold air biting her skin. The whispers were back, louder this time, swirling and echoing like a storm in her mind.

"Sirela... come to me..."

Shaking, she ran through the forest, her breath catching in her throat. The trees seemed to close in around her, their shadows stretching unnaturally under the violet moon. When she finally reached the cottage, her grandmother was waiting, sitting in her usual spot by the fire.

Her grandmother looked up, her weathered face calm but her eyes sharp, as if she had been expecting Sirela's arrival.

"You've seen her, haven't you?" the old woman asked, her voice quiet but heavy with meaning.

Sirela froze, her damp hair clinging to her face. "Seen who?"

The old woman sighed, setting down her knitting. "The queen."

"How-how do you know?" Sirela's voice cracked, her hands trembling as she clutched the back of a chair.

Her grandmother didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stared into the flames, her expression unreadable. "You are her blood, child. Her legacy. It's only a matter of time before you understand what that means."

"Her blood?" Sirela's voice rose, panic overtaking her. "What does that even mean? What's happening to me?"

The old woman stood slowly, her shadow stretching tall across the room. "You have questions, Sirela. But I can only give you so many answers. Some truths must be discovered on your own."

The fire flickered violently, casting eerie shapes across the walls. The whispers in Sirela's mind grew louder, overlapping, drowning out the sound of her own heartbeat. She backed away, her hands covering her ears.

"Stop it!" she screamed.

Her grandmother placed a hand on her shoulder, firm but comforting. "You are stronger than you know, child. And soon, you'll have to prove it."

The words hung in the air as the fire died down, leaving the room in near darkness. Sirela didn't sleep that night, the queen's face burned into her memory, her whispers still echoing in her mind.