Lucien’s jaw clenched, the muscles tightening beneath his skin. His eyes darkened… It was cold, glacial, but burned with a quiet storm beneath. Iris’s words fell hard into the silence between them, sharp as daggers.
“The cursed blood isn’t just a myth,” Iris said quietly, her tone grave. “It’s real… Lucien. And if it’s awakened, you must avoid it at all costs. Whatever you do, Lucien, don’t let it touch you. Not even a single drop.”
Her warning seemed to echo against the stone walls, lingering like smoke in the air. Lucien didn’t move. His gaze stayed fixed on the candle’s flickering flame, its light shivering across the sharp planes of his face. For a moment, the room felt colder… as though even the air itself understood the weight of what had just been spoken.
Then came an urgent knoc
