Chapter 9 The crimson betrayal

The court of the Blood Elites shimmered beneath the moonlight. Crystal chandeliers hung above like frozen stars. And there, at the center of it all, stood Elira, cloaked in moon-silk, her silver hair braided in thorns and lilies-symbols of love and power.

She was radiant. Untouchable. In love.

Across the ballroom, Prince Kael of House Drazan approached with a slow, measured grace. His crimson robes trailed like spilled wine behind him. His fangs gleamed beneath his smile.

"Elira," he murmured, "you wear power like it was stitched into your soul."

She smiled, almost shyly. "You taught me how to walk without fear."

Kael took her hand, pressed his lips to her fingers. "And now you'll teach the world."

They danced, swirling shadows and starlight. But outside the castle walls, an army crept silently through the Carpathian snow.

Elira froze as Kael whispered something cold into her ear:

> "Forgive me."

Suddenly, the chandeliers dimmed. The room was flooded with cloaked figures-Warden Council enforcers, armed with silver blades and binding runes.

Elira's pulse roared in her ears.

"Kael?" she breathed, but his eyes were already elsewhere-turned away.

A chain snapped around her wrists. Silver. Burning.

"By decree of the Council," a voice thundered, "Elira of the Tribrid Line is to be sentenced for crimes against the bloodlines. You are too powerful to be free."

She screamed. The kind of scream that shattered every mirror in the room. The kind that made vampires flinch.

Kael didn't move.

They dragged her down the marble steps as snowflakes fell, blood blooming beneath her feet. And when they bound her to the sacred pyre, it was Kael who struck the first spark.

---

They feared her.

They betrayed her.

They tried to kill a storm with a spark.

But Elira didn't die. No... she became legend.