Blood and Loyalty

Chapter 3 : Into the Lion’s Den

Devorah rode through the towering gates of Nocturnis, the heart of the Luminarian Dominion. The city was breathtaking—gilded towers and ancient stone streets blended seamlessly, illuminated by an unnatural glow that pulsed from enchanted lanterns. The air was thick with the scent of blooming nightshade and burning incense, a stark contrast to the sharp steel and blood she had expected.

Yet beneath the beauty, she could feel it—the weight of authority, the ever-present watchful eyes of the Dominion’s elite.

She kept her expression unreadable as soldiers escorted her to the grand palace, a masterpiece of obsidian and silver, its spires stretching toward the stormy sky.

Inside, the halls were lined with imposing figures—noble vampires draped in finery, human officials whispering in hushed voices, warriors standing at attention. The tension was tangible. She had barely stepped into the enemy’s lair, and already, the game had begun.

At last, she was brought before Crown Prince Sean.

He lounged on his throne, one leg draped over the other, watching her with an unreadable expression. His dark crimson robes made him look every bit the predator he was rumored to be.

His piercing gaze raked over her before he finally spoke. “You carry yourself like someone with nothing to prove. That’s a dangerous trait in a place like this.”

Devorah met his eyes without hesitation. “I’ve found that those who always feel the need to prove themselves are the ones who fall first.”

Silence. Then, unexpectedly, Sean let out a sharp chuckle.

“Interesting.” He leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knee as he studied her. “I was told you had a sharp tongue. I like it. But it makes me wonder—are you sharp enough to survive here?”

Devorah smirked. “I guess that depends. Are you smart enough to keep me alive?”

A ripple of amusement passed through the nobles and warriors standing in attendance. Sean tilted his head, intrigued. It wasn’t often someone spoke so boldly to him—at least, not without trembling.

His grin widened. “I think I’m going to enjoy having you around.”

"You intrigue me," Sean admitted. "But talk is cheap." He turned to one of the guards and snapped his fingers. "Let’s see if you live up to your reputation."

Within moments, the throne room transformed into an arena. A seasoned warrior stepped forward, clad in dark armor, his fangs glinting under the torchlight. He was at least twice her size, his blade already drawn.

Devorah didn’t hesitate. As the warrior lunged, Lithor was already in her hands, shifting from its sword form into a sleek spear. She sidestepped the first attack with inhuman grace, her movements fluid and precise. The room watched in stunned silence as she countered with a swift strike, knocking the warrior off balance.

The fight didn’t last long. Within seconds, Devorah had him on his knees, Lithor’s blade resting at his throat.

The room remained deathly quiet—until Sean began to clap.

"Impressive," he said, stepping forward. "You fight like someone who’s seen real war." His smirk deepened. "Tell me, where exactly did you learn?"

Devorah kept her face unreadable. "Here and there. I was trained in another empire before returning home."

A flicker of something—curiosity? Suspicion?—passed through Sean’s eyes. But then he simply chuckled.

"I don’t trust easily," he admitted. "But I do like useful people."

He gestured to the side, and a servant stepped forward, draping a dark cloak over her shoulders—the symbol of those who served the Dominion’s royal family.

"Welcome to my court," Sean said, his smirk widening. "Don’t disappoint me."

As Devorah bowed, she could feel the weight of every gaze in the room pressing against her. She had won the first battle—but the war had only just begun