For the first time in weeks, laughter echoed through the ancient halls of Bloodthorn Castle.
Lanterns burned with crimson flame, drapes of black velvet and silver thread flowed from the high ceilings, and music — sweet and eerie — danced on every stone. It was the Blood Moon Revel, an event whispered about in vampire lore, revived by Yuvan to ease the heavy silence that had settled since Vespera’s collapse.
She hadn’t wanted to attend at first — but Keven had knocked on her door with a smirk and a box wrapped in silver.
Inside was a gown unlike anything she’d ever seen.
Made of dark silk that shimmered like starlight, it hugged her form like liquid shadow. Threads of crimson swirled across the corset, and a sheer black train drifted behind like mist. When she stepped into the ballroom, silence fell.
She didn’t walk.
She glided.
Every vampire turned to stare. In that moment, Vespera was not just a guest of the revel — she was the goddess of night.
Keven, who stood near the grand stairwell, couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart swelled. He had imagined this moment — her smile, the way her eyes found him across the crowd — and yet, it was more than he could’ve ever dreamed.
But not all eyes were admiring.
A stranger, tall and elegantly dressed, moved through the crowd with unnatural grace. His eyes — deep green with a glint of gold — locked onto Vespera. He approached with a bow, one hand extended.
“May I have this dance, my lady?”
She hesitated. His face stirred something in her — a memory? A dream? She couldn't place it. Before she could respond, Keven stepped closer… but Yuvan, smiling in good spirits, gently nudged Vespera forward.
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“She could use the dance.”
Reluctantly, Keven backed away, jaw tight, fists clenched.
As Vespera was led into the dance by the stranger, Keven watched from the edge. Every twirl, every smile, every graceful step between them was a blade twisting in his chest. The man moved like he’d known her rhythm for centuries. It didn’t make sense.
And then it clicked — the scent, the aura, the voice.
The healer.
Disguised. Hidden in plain sight.
Rage burned through Keven like wildfire. He turned and stormed from the ballroom, unable to bear it.
When he returned moments later, Vespera was gone.
Panic cut through the music.
Yuvan appeared by his side. “Where is she?”
They split up, searching every corridor. Lady Thalara, hearing the commotion, joined them, her ageless face suddenly grim. The castle was large, filled with shadows and secrets — but it was a soft sound, like a dropped jewel, that drew Keven’s gaze upward.
He bolted toward the rooftop terrace.
There — in the pale moonlight — Vespera lay limp on the ground. The "healer" hovered over her, his fangs exposed, ready to sink into her neck.
Keven didn’t think.
He launched forward, power exploding from his palms — silver fire surged toward the attacker. But the healer moved fast, too fast. The blast missed by a breath.
Yuvan arrived next, a growl ripping from his throat. His hands glowed with dark energy, and with a roar, he sent a wave of shadows that pinned the healer against the terrace wall.
"Step away from her!" Yuvan bellowed, eyes red with fury.
The healer hissed, but Keven was already beside Vespera, lifting her gently, checking her pulse. Her skin was cold, but she stirred, whispering his name.
“She’s safe,” Keven growled, eyes never leaving the vampire before them. “You’re done.”
The healer laughed — calm, smooth, almost sorrowful. “You don’t understand what she is.”
Yuvan punched him before he could say more. He and Keven dragged the man down to the dungeons, the stone walls pulsing with ancient wards.
Back in her room, Vespera sat quietly, her fingers tracing the edge of her pillow. Her mind replayed the moment the stranger whispered into her ear while dancing.
“You’re not ready… but soon, you will be.”
What did he mean?
Down in the dungeon, Keven stared at the prisoner behind iron bars.
“You won’t touch her again”, he said coldly.
But the healer only smiled.
“I already have”.