Bloodbound Destiny

The First Task

Evelyn woke to the creaking of iron hinges. The dim glow of candlelight barely illuminated her tiny chamber, casting flickering shadows along the cold stone walls. Her muscles ached from the stiffness of the hard cot, and exhaustion clung to her like a heavy blanket. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes again, to steal a few more moments of rest, but she had little time to adjust before the doorway filled with a familiar presence. The same servant girl from before stood there, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"It’s time to start your duties," she said softly, her eyes avoiding Evelyn’s.

Evelyn swallowed her irritation as she sat up, her body stiff. Everything in her wanted to resist, to defy the orders being forced upon her, but she knew better. Lucian had made it clear—this was her life now. At least for the moment.

She followed the girl into the dimly lit corridor, her bare feet silent against the icy stone. The castle was eerily quiet, save for the occasional flicker of torchlight that sent shadows crawling up the towering walls. The deeper they walked, the heavier the air became, as though the walls themselves whispered of centuries of dark magic and blood.

"Where are we going?" Evelyn finally asked, breaking the silence.

"The great hall," the girl murmured. "The prince expects you to serve at breakfast."

Evelyn frowned. "Breakfast? You mean you actually eat food?"

The girl hesitated before shaking her head. "The court does. The prince... he only drinks."

A chill ran down Evelyn’s spine, but she said nothing. Of course, he did.

When they reached the grand dining hall, Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. The ceiling stretched high into darkness, the entire room bathed in the golden flicker of an immense chandelier dripping with candle wax. A long, elaborate table dominated the center, lined with nobles draped in fine silks, their pale faces sharp and unreadable. The food before them was extravagant—golden pastries, roasted meats, and delicate fruits—but none of it was what truly fed them.

Lucian sat at the head of the table, an undeniable force among them. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint of something in his crimson eyes—boredom, perhaps, or mild amusement at the scene unfolding before him. He lounged with the ease of someone who held absolute power, his fingers tapping lazily against the armrest of his chair as if waiting to be entertained. The other nobles chattered amongst themselves, their dark eyes flickering toward her with something too close to hunger. A few smiled, their sharp teeth glinting in the low light.

Evelyn clenched her fists at her sides.

"Come here," Lucian’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Her body resisted, but her feet moved forward, drawn by some invisible force. She stopped just short of him, his crimson eyes gleaming as he studied her like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You will serve today," he announced. "Pour the wine. Refill plates. And—" he leaned forward slightly, lips curling. "Do not spill a single drop."

Evelyn’s pulse pounded. This wasn’t just a task—it was a test. A game. And she knew the consequences of failure would not be simple.

A servant placed a silver tray in her hands, the weight of the ornate pitcher inside heavier than expected. She moved to the first noble, carefully pouring the deep red liquid into their goblet. The noblewoman smiled at her, the tips of her fangs just visible as she murmured, "Careful, little human. You wouldn’t want to waste something so valuable."

Evelyn kept her expression neutral, forcing her hands steady as she moved down the table, filling each goblet with slow, precise movements. Every set of eyes lingered on her, waiting, watching.

Then she reached Lucian.

His goblet sat before him, untouched. Unlike the others, he didn’t lift it in invitation. Instead, he watched her, waiting.

Evelyn hesitated for the briefest moment before lifting the pitcher. Her mind raced—one wrong move, one spill, and she knew she would pay the price. She forced herself to take a slow breath, steadying her grip as she fought to control the tremor in her hands. Failure was not an option, not here, not now. Her hands trembled slightly as she steadied her grip. But just as she tilted it forward, Lucian’s hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist.

The air seemed to still.

"You’re afraid," he murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "I can hear it in your heartbeat."

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. His fingers were like ice against her skin, yet the pressure of his grip sent a pulse of heat through her veins. She hated that she couldn’t move, that his very presence commanded her body to freeze.

Then, just as suddenly, he let her go.

"Pour," he said simply.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, forcing herself to move. The wine filled the goblet in a smooth, controlled stream, though she could still feel the slight tremor in her fingers. As soon as it was done, she placed the tray down and took a step back, willing her pulse to slow.

Lucian lifted the glass, swirling the liquid before taking a slow sip, his gaze never leaving hers.

"You learn quickly," he said again. But this time, his voice held something else. Something unreadable.

Evelyn refused to react. She had made it through another task. Another test. But at what cost?

As the nobles continued their feast, their laughter echoing through the cavernous hall, a single realization settled in Evelyn’s chest.

This was only the beginning.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as Evelyn remained standing, her muscles aching from the tension. The nobles continued their conversations, but she could feel their eyes darting back to her, as if waiting for her to make a mistake. The air was thick with the scent of wine and something darker—something she tried not to think about.

A servant approached, nodding toward a platter near the head of the table. "Take this to the prince."

Evelyn hesitated before reaching for the tray. The dish held a covered silver bowl, its contents hidden beneath the lid. She had no doubt it wasn’t food—at least, not food as she knew it. Still, she lifted it carefully and stepped toward Lucian once more.

As she placed the tray before him, he glanced up, amusement flickering in his crimson gaze. "You hesitate."

Evelyn swallowed. "I don’t know what’s inside."

Lucian smirked, lifting the lid to reveal a goblet filled with a thicker, darker liquid than the wine she had poured earlier. Blood. She felt her stomach twist, but she forced herself not to react.

"You will become used to it," Lucian said, lifting the goblet. "In time."

Evelyn clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought the wave of nausea rising in her throat. She would never get used to this, no matter how much they expected her to.

But as she stepped back, the whisper of a thought crept into her mind—she needed to learn more about this world. About these creatures. Because if she was going to survive, she needed more than defiance.

She needed a plan. She would start by observing—learning their routines, their weaknesses. Somewhere in this vast, terrifying castle, there had to be an opportunity, a crack in their perfect control. And when she found it, she would be ready.