Storm Before The Silence

Fire and Bloodlines

We walk through the heavy doors, the air thick with tension and the scent of old dust. The house feels abandoned, frozen in time—furniture draped in white cloths like forgotten ghosts, shadows clinging to every corner. My boots echo on the wooden floor as Alex leads me through the hollow silence and into the kitchen. The marble countertop glints under the dim light, a stark contrast to the suffocating weight between us.

He gestures to a barstool. I plop down, my arms crossing tightly over my chest as I stare at him with a blank expression. My voice, when it comes, is trembling but edged with fire. “So… are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Alex, or am I supposed to guess why I almost got f*****g murdered?”

Alex runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight, eyes clouded. He sighs like he’s trying to push a mountain off his chest. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, and I think he might bolt again. But then he meets my gaze, that golden fire in his irises demanding I listen.

“Rose,” he says finally, “for me to tell you what’s happening, I need to start from the beginning. I have to tell you about me… and everything that’s been happening up until now.”

I nod, but the knot in my stomach tightens until it aches.

“A long time ago,” he begins, voice low and heavy, “there were many different kinds of creatures—Lycans of howls, phoenixes, birds of fire, dragons of war, vampires of decay and death, elves of light and purity, demons of chaos, angels of saviors and love… but that’s not all.”

His eyes flick to mine, watching my reaction.

I shake my head. “And… you’re telling me this because…?”

“I’m one of them,” he says, simply. “Rose… I’m a phoenix.”

The words hit me like a slap. My pulse roars in my ears. “What?”

He steps closer, takes my hands in his. His skin is warm—almost too warm—but his touch is gentle, grounding. “Please, calm down. I swear, I would never hurt you. I’m your mate, and I’ll explain what that means. But you need to understand something—we’re connected. A mate is for life. It’s deeper than love. It’s soul-deep. We protect each other, no matter what.”

I stare at him, my mind struggling to catch up with my heart. “But why me? I’m not… I’m not special. I don’t have any powers, Alex. I’m just—”

“You do,” he interrupts, firm but soft. “I can feel it in you. There’s something inside you, something vast and ancient. The vampire who attacked you? He tasted it in your blood. That’s why he came for you.”

I reel, nausea rising in my gut. My hands tremble in his grasp. Then he drops the bombshell.

“I’m also the prince of my people. The next in line to be king,” he says, his voice hardening. “My parents were murdered by a dragon. I can’t ascend the throne without my mate. Until I found you, I was in limbo. And now… I think the one who killed them is here, in this world.”

My throat tightens, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. “Alex, what the f**k! I can’t be a queen! I don’t want any of this!”

His face falls, and a shadow crosses his expression. He turns toward the window, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Rose. Please… forgive me.”

But I can’t. Not yet. It’s too much, too fast. I leap to my feet. “Wait—where are you going?”

“I’ll be back,” he growls, but it’s not his voice. It’s deeper, older, edged in something feral. “Stay inside. Don’t leave this room.”

Before I can respond, he vanishes down the hallway. I’m left standing in silence, the house suddenly colder than before. I slide beneath the kitchen counter, clutching my knees to my chest, trying to calm the storm inside me. But then—

A voice, deep and cruel, rips through the quiet: “Where is she?”

I freeze. My breath stops.

“Where is that b***h?” The voice drips with venom.

Alex roars from somewhere outside. “She’s not here. Leave!”

“She is here,” the stranger snarls. “I can smell her, you worthless phoenix. Now give her back!”

No. No, no, no.

My heart stutters in my chest. How could he know? How could he smell me?

Then—another voice. Familiar. Wrong.

“She belongs to us,” my adoptive mother sneers, her tone saturated with venomous entitlement. “Her mother gave her to us. We’ll do as we please with her. You know this.”

My vision blurs, stomach twisting. They shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t know where I am. They shouldn’t even know about Alex.

Alex’s voice rumbles with fury. “What about the vampire that attacked her? Do you know anything about that?”

“Vampire?” my mother echoes mockingly. “What vampire?”

But my father’s mask slips. His face twists with something close to rage—whether real or faked, I can’t tell. “You mean that bloodsucker came after her?”

And then Alex moves. He’s a blur of light and flame, standing between them, his body alight with dancing tendrils of fire. His eyes are twin infernos.

“If he gets her,” he growls, “he’ll destroy humanity.”

Silence stretches, taut and unnatural. Then, without another word, my parents vanish into a swirl of black smoke, leaving behind the stench of something wrong and rotten.

I crawl from my hiding spot, heart pounding. I peek through the curtain, watching the empty yard, trying to make sense of anything. I don't even know what I am.

But I swear I’ll find out.

Meanwhile…

Far from the house, in the ruins of a cathedral deep in the forgotten woods, something stirs.

Blood pools on ancient stone. Shattered pews lie like broken teeth across the floor. The air is thick with rot, fire, and old magic. The Vampire Lord—once regal, now disheveled—rises slowly from a circle of ash.

His skin, once pale and flawless, is blistered. The burns from phoenix fire have left their mark. He hisses, fingers twitching as they knit together. Every breath he takes shudders with agony, but his eyes—those crimson eyes—burn with an unrelenting obsession.

“She… tasted like divinity,” he rasps, voice brittle like dry parchment. “But there was something else in her… something ancient.”

He stumbles toward a cracked mirror and gazes into it. Shadows gather behind him. A figure steps from the dark—a woman, dressed in black, her face veiled.

“The blood you consumed was only the beginning,” she says. “You were foolish to strike too soon.”

“I wanted her,” he growls.

The woman tilts her head. “And now others want her too. The game has begun. But you, my Lord… you need time. Rest. Recover. Let the others make their move.”

He snarls but does not argue. Pain has taught him patience.

“I’ll have her,” he whispers, tongue tasting the word like a curse and a promise. “And when I do… even the phoenix prince will burn.”