VELMORRA

SEVEN II

Arien’s silhouette stood framed in the ruined archway of the sanctum, hair soaked and eyes gleaming with a savage light. The once-golden boy of the coven now wore his defiance like armor-drenched in power, reckless and brazen.

“Hello, darling,” he said, voice like honey over a blade. “Miss me?”

Lira stumbled back instinctively-caught between him and Darian, her magic useless, her choices vanishing by the second.

Darian didn’t flinch. His voice was cold steel. “You’ve come for her.”

Arien tilted his head, his smile twisting. “She came for me first. Or have you forgotten, Lira?”

Her throat closed. “That wasn’t-”

“That kiss,” Arien interrupted, taking a step forward, “that night... It wasn’t just a dream.”

Darian’s body snapped taut.

Lira looked between them. “What are you talking about?”

“The night before you left,” Arien said, eyes locked on hers. “You came to me. In the dark. In the woods outside the estate. You touched me, kissed me. Told me you remembered everything.”

“No,” she breathed. “I didn’t. I never-”

But her voice cracked.

Because part of her had dreamed that moment-had awoken sweating, flushed, confused. She thought it was only a dream. But Arien’s words made her question everything.

“You used a glamour,” Darian growled, stepping forward. “You manipulated her mind.”

“She wanted it,” Arien hissed, mask slipping. “She always wanted it. She just needed reminding.”

Lira’s stomach churned.

“No,” she whispered. “I never consented to that.”

Arien’s face twisted with fury. “You were mine before he ever touched you!”

The room exploded in magic.

Darian’s aura ignited like wildfire-deep, ancient power unfurling with terrifying speed. Arien matched it, summoning jagged streaks of black energy, his hands curling into claws.

Lira stepped between them.

“Stop!” she screamed. “This isn’t about you two!”

But they couldn’t hear her.

The floor shook, ancient runes in the sanctum walls flaring with light as the vampire and warlock clashed. Shadows slammed into barriers. Fire cracked against blood-forged wards. Lira felt herself breaking in the center of it, her voice lost in the chaos.

And then-Arien whispered her name.

“Lira.”

The battle paused. Darian hovered mid-lunge, power humming at his fingertips.

“I can give you your magic back,” Arien said, voice shaking with desperation now. “They took it, yes-but I found a way. The coven lied. Darian lied. But I can restore you.”

Lira stared at him, heart pounding.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you help me now?”

He stepped closer. “Because I love you. Because you were never meant to kneel to him. You are power. You are light. Let me remind you.”

She looked at Darian-his expression unreadable.

And then at Arien.

She stepped forward.

And kissed him.

Darian flinched as if struck.

But in the kiss, Lira reached inside Arien-not with her lips, but her mind. Her soul.

She saw the ritual he intended. The blood price he was hiding. The lie beneath the promise.

He wasn’t going to restore her powers.

He was going to steal what remained of them-to merge her magic with his own.

And so, when she pulled back from the kiss, her eyes were dry.

“You’ll never touch me again.”

And she plunged a hidden blade-blackened with salt and spellwork-straight into Arien’s chest.