Chapter 2 2

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Chapter Two: Fangs Behind the Throne

The torchlight flickered along the damp stone walls of Nocthollow's inner sanctum, casting long shadows that danced like spirits of the dead. Seraphina moved swiftly and silently, the hem of her dark cloak brushing the cold floor. She knew these halls well-every forgotten corridor, every hidden door. She had to. In a place ruled by monsters, knowledge was the only safe weapon.

She passed through a narrow arch and entered the crypts beneath the great hall, where the ancient dead of her bloodline lay entombed in stone and silence. Here, no guards patrolled. No whispers echoed. Only memories remained-many of them tainted by cruelty and ambition.

Seraphina knelt before a statue of her great-grandmother, Lady Althea, a vampire queen remembered not for power, but for compassion. Legend said she had once brokered a peace between her kind and the wolves of the north, centuries before the Treaty of Black Hollow had even been imagined. Her efforts had been erased from the official histories, her name spoken only in hushed reverence by those who remembered that peace was once possible.

"I failed to stop him," Seraphina whispered to the stone. "And now everything burns."

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a folded parchment-stolen from her father's war chamber. It was a battle plan: troop movements, ambush points, and one red circle drawn in blood around the next target-Moonveil Keep, the stronghold of the Ashen Moon Pack.

"They'll never see it coming," Lord Malric had said hours earlier, his voice ringing with triumph. "We strike before the next full moon. Their defenses will fall, and with them, the will of every wolf from here to the Blackridge Mountains."

Seraphina had said nothing then, her silence masking the storm inside her. But she had made her decision.

She would betray him.

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Above ground, the court was alive with celebration. Goblets of bloodwine clinked beneath obsidian chandeliers. Vampires danced in spirals of silk and shadows, savoring the illusion of victory. Only a few understood the cost.

Seraphina emerged from the crypts and slipped into the great hall, her cloak pulled tight, her face unreadable. She had learned long ago that weakness was a luxury no vampire princess could afford.

At the center of the room, Lord Malric stood upon the dais, his silver goblet raised. "To the fall of Eldergrove!" he called, voice echoing like a hymn of war. "To our inevitable reign!"

"To victory!" the nobles cried in return.

Seraphina's jaw clenched. Her father's eyes met hers from across the hall. He smiled-but it did not reach his eyes. He knew she disapproved. He always had. But he no longer cared.

"Come, my daughter," he called. "Join your family. Tonight is the beginning of a new age."

Seraphina moved toward him, every step measured, every breath controlled. She bowed her head in mock respect and took the goblet he offered. Blood-fresh and warm-coated the rim. She sipped, keeping her revulsion hidden. It tasted of innocence.

"My daughter," he said quietly, leaning close. "You look troubled."

"I think only of our people," she replied.

"Then you understand the necessity of our actions. You've seen their claws, their savagery. They are beasts, Seraphina."

She met his gaze, her crimson eyes like twin moons. "And what does that make us, Father?"

Malric's smile faltered for a heartbeat. "Survivors."

Seraphina bowed again and stepped away before he could question her further. The plan had to move quickly. The stolen parchment now rested in her sleeve. She would escape before sunrise, fly through the hidden passes of the Mourning Hills, and find the wolves before the next moonrise.

She didn't expect a warm welcome. But if she could deliver the plans-if she could show them the truth-perhaps there was a chance to stop the bloodshed before it devoured them all.

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Later that night, Seraphina stood on the castle's northern tower, her raven companion perched on her shoulder. The wind howled through the mountains, but she felt no cold. She had removed her cloak and now wore a traveler's garb, simple and dark, meant to blend with the shadows.

"Fly ahead," she whispered to the bird, tying the scroll to its leg. "Find the one called Kael. He's the only one who might listen."

The raven cawed once, then launched into the sky, vanishing into the dark like a living arrow.

Seraphina took one last look at the castle-her prison, her inheritance, and her curse. She thought of the boy in Eldergrove, the one Kael had found holding the wooden wolf. She did not know his name, but he was the reason she moved now. For him. For all of them.

She turned from the past and leapt into the night, her wings of shadow unfolding as she vanished beneath the stars.

This war may have begun in fire, she thought, but I will end it in truth-even if I must bleed to do it.

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