My Ex Is A Vampire Who Can't Forget Me

The Vampire Court

The road twisted into darkness as Arian drove, the tires whispering across wet asphalt. The forest had thinned into a barren stretch of cliffs and shadows, where the wind carried a chill that gnawed at Lira's skin despite the layers of her coat.

Arian hadn't spoken in twenty minutes. He gripped the steering wheel as though it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

Lira sat beside him, a leather-bound book resting heavily on her lap — fragments Silas had once left behind, inscribed with symbols she didn't understand but that seemed to burn faintly with magic

under her fingertips.

"You don't have to take me there," she said gently.

Arian's grip tightened on the wheel, but he didn't look at her. "I do," he said finally, his voice calm but low, like the promise of a storm. "Silas has already gone to them. If we don't answer the summons ourselves, they'll assume the worst — that you're a threat too dangerous to be given a hearing at all."

"And if they don't believe our side?"

A pause. "Then we run," he said quietly, and she knew he meant it. Not just from Silas, not just from the Court — but from everything that could tear them apart.

The Vampire Court was nothing like she had imagined. It was a ruin carved into the cliffs beneath the earth, its entrance hidden among jagged stones and the roots of ancient trees. The moment they stepped into the corridors, the air turned colder, heavier, as if the stone itself had been absorbing centuries of power.

They stepped into a cathedral-like chamber. Columns of black stone stretched up into darkness, while dozens of figures sat perched on thrones carved from bone and obsidian. Their eyes, glowing faintly, followed her every movement, studying her as a predator studies prey that might be stronger

than anticipated.

At the centre of the chamber, a woman stood. Pale, impossibly elegant, her long hair falling like silver threads down her back. Her eyes were frozen water, reflecting every detail of the ruined hall

around her.

The High Seer.

"Arian Vale," the woman said, her voice echoing across the chamber. "We thought you were dead."

"I was," Arian replied, his voice steady but carrying the weight of all he had endured.

Her eyes shifted to Lira, piercing and precise. "And this is the girl? The mortal bonded to Silas?"

Lira lifted her chin. "Was bonded," she corrected, her voice firmer than she expected.

Murmurs rippled through the chamber, a whispering tide of fascination, suspicion, and something darker. The High Seer's gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, like a blade assessing the quality of steel.

"You broke it?" she asked, voice quiet but commanding.

"Yes," Lira said. "By choice."

The Seer circled her like a predator examining prey, yet her movements were silent, graceful, deliberate. "Interesting," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "You carry old magic in

your blood. Magic, we thought lost."

"I'm not your experiment," Lira snapped.

"No," the Seer said softly. "But you may be something rarer. Do you know what happens when a mortal survives two blood bonds?"

Lira frowned. "No."

"She becomes more than mortal," the Seer said simply.

Arian stepped forward, his crimson eyes flashing. "Enough. We're not here to play your games."

"You were never one to play fair, Arian," the Seer replied, voice light, almost teasing, yet sharp as broken glass. "Which is why we kept your death quiet. So that your return would be —

interesting."

A moment of silence passed, thick with tension, before she added, "Silas was one of ours. A prince. He has come to us, Arian Vale, and made a formal claim — that she was stolen from him by right of old law, and that a bloodline carrying magic this old belongs under Court protection, not wandering free in the mortal world at your side."

Lira's voice rang out, unwavering despite the weight of the statement. "I'm not property to be claimed by anyone. Not him. Not you."

The Seer's eyes glowed faintly, like moonlight reflected on ice. "That is not entirely your decision to make, child. Not yet. Power doesn't die with a broken bond. It clings. It waits. And it draws attention — the kind of attention that will not simply go away because you wish it to."

Arian's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw rigid.

The Seer looked to Arian again, her expression unreadable. "The Council has not yet ruled. I have bought you time — no more than that. Protect her well. If she proves herself more than a prize to be fought over, she may yet be the one who saves us all from the old wars this magic always seems to start. But if she proves a danger the Court cannot control — I will not be able to protect either of you from what comes next."

Lira's stomach twisted at the weight of the words. It wasn't a blessing. It was a countdown.

The journey out of the Court was silent. Lira walked close to Arian, her hand brushing against his sleeve, drawing strength from him.

"Do you think the Court will accept that?" she asked, glancing up at him.

Arian's crimson eyes were troubled in a way she hadn't seen before. "I don't know," he admitted.

"The Seer is the only reason we're walking out of here at all. But Silas won't stop just because she asked for time. He'll use every hour of it to build his case — and I have a feeling he already knows

exactly how to win it."

The cliffs stretched around them, silent and vast, shadows pooling where the moonlight failed to reach. For now, Lira could breathe. But she understood, with a clarity that chilled her more than the

wind, that the true trial hadn't even begun.