CHAPTER 8
635 Words
The vampire realm lay shrouded in mist, its towering gates carved with scenes of blood-soaked victories and eternal torment. Beyond them, the Crimson Court pulsed like a living thing—ancient stone halls lit with bloodfire torches, shadows dancing in sync with whispers and footsteps.
Raven stepped through the threshold, Lucien flanking her right, Dante to her left. She felt them—her mates—but she also felt herself. A hum in her bones. A whisper in her blood. The court called to her like a home she’d never known.
Guards in red-and-black armor parted for Dante with deep bows.
“The prodigal prince returns,” Lucien muttered.
Dante smirked. “Try to behave, wolf. They bite.”
Raven rolled her eyes, but her nerves were raw. Every vampire they passed turned to stare. Some with awe. Others with thinly veiled hunger. And a few… with fear.
They entered the great hall.
A throne of bone and obsidian loomed at the far end, and upon it sat Queen Morrigan Virel—Dante’s mother. Her beauty was cruel. Hair like black silk. Skin alabaster. Lips stained crimson as if she’d just fed.
And her eyes… they were identical to Dante’s. Blood-garnet. Cold and calculating.
“Well,” the queen purred. “She lives.”
Raven stepped forward. “You knew about me?”
Morrigan rose, descending the steps with predatory grace. “I knew your mother. Long ago. She was… a complication.”
“What happened to her?” Raven demanded.
Morrigan paused. “She ran. Hid you among wolves. And died for it.”
Raven’s knees wobbled.
“She was hunted,” Morrigan continued, circling like a vulture. “Because of what you are. A threat. A myth. A girl born to end empires and unite them in the same breath.”
Lucien growled. “She's not your tool.”
The queen’s gaze snapped to him. “And you are the beast who dared mark her without permission. You reek of moonlight and insolence.”
Dante stepped between them. “Enough. We’re here to talk, not fight.”
“Oh, sweet boy.” Morrigan caressed Dante’s cheek with something almost like affection. “You still think talking saves lives.”
Raven interrupted. “If I’m such a threat, why haven’t you killed me yet?”
The queen turned to her, smiling. “Because, my darling, I don’t want to kill you. I want to use you.”
“Use me?”
“You can control both blood and moon. You can unite kingdoms that have warred for centuries. But only if you survive the ritual.”
Raven stiffened. “What ritual?”
“The Ascension.” Morrigan’s smile deepened. “An ancient rite that will awaken the full extent of your power. But it requires… sacrifice.”
Lucien stepped forward. “No.”
Dante tensed. “Mother, don’t.”
But Raven met the queen’s eyes. “What kind of sacrifice?”
The queen’s eyes sparkled. “Blood. Lust. Pain. And one truth you aren’t ready to hear.”
Suddenly, Morrigan reached forward—and her hand slammed into Raven’s chest.
Raven gasped as her vision exploded into red and black. Screams. Fire. A woman crying her name. Lucien, torn and bleeding. Dante, chained in silver. And herself—eyes black as pitch, wings of shadow spreading from her back.
When she came to, she was on her knees.
Lucien held her. Dante shouted.
Morrigan merely smiled. “She’ll survive. If she’s worthy.”
Raven wiped blood from her nose. “I want the truth. All of it.”
Morrigan turned. “Then you’ll get it. Tomorrow night. At the ritual. Bring your mates. You’ll need them.”
And with that, the queen vanished into shadows, leaving Raven shaken, furious—and burning with questions.
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