Ava Galliano: The Last Dark Queen

The cell was small, barely enough to contain a frail body and a rickety bed. The bars, though cold and unyielding, held her in more ways than they should. Pure silver, they kept her tethered to the back corner of the dark cell, a silent reminder of her imprisonment. Isa had lost track of time. Seasons seemed to blur together, each one indistinguishable from the next. With no windows to offer a glimpse of the world outside, it was impossible for her to know how much time had passed since she was cast into this forsaken place. Days melted into weeks, weeks into months—yet it hardly mattered. As the hours stretched on, she could feel herself withering. She went days without food or blood, each moment dragging her further from the strength she once had. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was still a child. Still the heir to a kingdom—her kingdom. The one she was born to rule, or so she had been told. But all of it felt like a distant dream now, a life slipping through her fingers as the hunger gnawed at her insides. Every night, questions swirled in her mind. Why had her father abandoned her? Why had her human family sold her into this nightmare? The sound of footsteps echoed down the dark hallway, pulling her from her thoughts. The soft rhythm of boots against stone grew louder, then stopped abruptly in front of her cell. Isa wiped away the tears that had fallen, brushing them aside with trembling fingers. She tried to compose herself, though it was a futile effort. She knew the unmistakable sound of the second set of footsteps—the buyer had arrived. A rustling noise filled the air as the other girls in the nearby cells, each one an unfortunate soul like herself, scrambled to make themselves presentable. Isa lowered her head to her knees, a desperate prayer forming on her lips. Please, don't stop here. Please, pass me by. But hope, it seemed, was not on her side tonight. The footsteps halted, right in front of her cell. Her gaze lifted slowly, heart hammering in her chest. Her eyes landed first on a pair of polished black shoes, the kind only a royal vampire could afford. She followed them up slowly, meeting the sharp, calculating eyes of the man before her. His red eyes pierced through her, making her pulse spike with a terrifying mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name. He looked every bit the royal—arrogant, predatory, and so out of place among the filth of the prison. Yet, when he knelt before her, something in his sharp features softened, and his gaze... it lingered, as though he were seeing something more than just a captive girl. “What's your name?” His voice was smooth, laced with authority. Isa wanted to look away. She wanted to ignore him, to close off, to make herself as invisible as possible. But the moment his eyes locked with hers, all her resolve crumbled. She felt... small. No, not small. Powerless. His gaze held her captive in a way the bars never could. “Answer him,” barked the cell master, his voice sharp with irritation. He spat at Isa, the foul liquid landing on her face before he slammed a rod against the bars, the sound shrieking through the silence. Isa flinched, her body recoiling as her eyes bled red with fury. She backed herself into the corner, every inch of her trembling. The familiar scent of blood began to saturate the air as her instincts flared. The anger that built in her chest couldn’t be ignored. “Isa,” she spat, the name falling from her lips like venom. She refused to look at the royal vampire, but when she did, she saw the flicker of surprise cross his face. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, there was something almost... human in them. He rose to his feet, straightening his coat as he turned toward the cell master. Isa could feel the anger radiating off him now, sharp as a blade. “Do you know what you've done? This isn't just some girl you can pick up off the street." The cell master sputtered, his voice laced with panic. "A human family gave her to me. They said she was human when I bought her!" "Do her red eyes look human to you?" the royal snarled, his fangs flashing in the dim light. The cell master stammered, his voice faltering, "I swear, I didn't know! She looks human... smells human, too." "The High King will hear about this," the royal said, his tone now a quiet threat. "No, please, not that! He'll shut me down—I'll lose everything. This is the only way I can feed my family!" “Then you should have obeyed the rules, Jeremiah,” the royal said, his voice deadly calm. “You know the laws. You only take human girls from this territory. You disobeyed, and now you will answer for it.” Jeremiah’s fear flickered for a moment, but then it turned into something else—a twisted amusement. “But it's just one girl! All the rest are human.” The royal’s eyes burned with fury. “Have you been living underground for so long that you’ve lost your senses? She is not a girl. She is of royal blood. Open this cell before I deal with you myself.” The fear returned to Jeremiah’s face, and with shaky hands, he fumbled for the keys. Within moments, the door was open. The royal swept Isa into his arms with little effort, her body weak and brittle in his grasp. She whimpered as his skin made contact with hers, heat flushing through her system in waves. The royal didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he did. Isa wasn’t sure. Her mind was a haze of exhaustion and confusion. He held her close as they stepped out into the cold, the night air biting at her skin. Isa squinted up at the sky, covering her eyes as the moonlight cut through the clouds. When her eyes adjusted, she realized it had only been three seasons since she’d been thrown into the depths of this place. Three. Isa was carried to a carriage, gently lowered inside. The royal’s red eyes lingered on her, a mix of curiosity and something darker in them. He watched her as the carriage began to move, the wheels creaking in the night. “Where are you taking me?” Isa’s voice was barely a whisper, thin and fragile, but the question hung in the air. “To my castle,” the royal replied, his voice softening. “You’ll be fed, washed, and taken care of. And then I’ll return you to your human family.” Isa swallowed the bitterness that rose in her throat. “Oh, I see.” The carriage came to a stop, the doors opening with a soft creak. The midnight air sent a chill through her, and Isa shivered in the thin linen wrap they’d given her. The royal stepped out first, then reached back to pull her gently into his arms. “Do you think you can stand?” he asked, his voice low but kind. Isa nodded, though her legs shook as she tried to stand on her own. The royal let her go, watching her steady herself before she found her footing. The maids rushed forward, ushering her inside the castle, where they stripped away her tattered clothing, cleaned her wounds, and dressed her in fresh clothes. When they finally brought her down to the dining room, the royal was waiting. The long table was filled with food, the sight of it almost overwhelming. His eyes flickered briefly, flashing orange as Isa’s scent filled the room. He quickly regained control, shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts. “Please,” he said softly, “sit. Eat as much as you can, and we’ll discuss your future... living arrangements.” He pulled out the chair for her, his hand lingering on her back as she sat. The touch sent a tremor through her, and Isa fought to steady her breathing. “What's your name?” she asked quietly, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. “King Marcus Reed the Third,” he replied, his tone both regal and weary. “My grandfather serves on the High Council. If you need a new human family, we’ll send word to him.” Isa’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I need a new human family? Can’t we just send word to my father?” Marcus sighed, settling into his own chair across from her. “Vampire children—royal or not—must live with human families until they come of age. Rules are rules.” “My father would never...” “Didn't you say you were sold by a human family?” Isa’s silence hung heavy between them. “What is your bloodline?” Marcus asked again, this time more gently. Isa recoiled, unwilling to answer. Her bloodline was powerful, and it terrified her. She hated the way her people looked at her, the fear in their eyes as if her blood made her untouchable. Marcus sensed her resistance and leaned back, his gaze assessing. “If you don't speak to me, I will have no choice but to send you to the council. They will find you a new human family.” Isa’s voice was low but resolute. “I don’t want to live with filthy humans anymore. Why should I? They never respected my rank.” “Because,” Marcus said, his voice quiet but firm, “there are rules for a reason, Isa.” She could feel the tension rising in the air. Marcus’ temper, which had been controlled until now, flared. “You will follow the rules,” he warned. But Isa’s fury boiled over. “I won’t go back,” she spat, slamming her fist onto the table. The force of it made several bowls of food jump, tipping over and spilling onto the floor. Marcus stood, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. He slammed his fist onto the table, his fury palpable. “You will do as you're told!” Isa’s heart raced, but it wasn’t fear she felt—it was a dark, undeniable anger. She glared at Marcus, her eyes burning red as she let loose an earth-shaking growl. “My name is Isa Pentagrim,” she hissed, voice low and dangerous. “Heir to the original family. How dare you raise your voice at me.” Marcus froze, his breath catching in his throat as he realized the truth of her words.