The main gates of the Royal Sanguine Academy groaned shut. Outside, the stone causeway was slick with salt spray. The candidates dispersed across it, their crimson uniforms stark against the dark stone.

  Lucian paused beneath one of the massive archways along the causeway, his entourage waiting ahead like obedient puppets. He smoothed his hair, then turned to Selene. His face said it all: pity and arrogance.

  “I hope I don’t see you again, for your own sake, forest girl,” Lucian said. “Be sure to bring that huge sword of yours—if you can even carry the thing.” He laughed and walked away with his group.

  Selene stood frozen, gazing at the waves below. The reality of the Ascension was still settling in.

  Astraea was waiting by the railing nearby. She leaned back against the precipice with her arms crossed, watching Lucian depart with mild amusement.

  “There is something off with that sack of blood,” Astraea mused.

  Selene turned on her, the shock finally giving way to anger. “You knew!” She said. “You knew all of this. The killings.”

  Astraea smiled. "I thought it would be more fun for you to discover the details yourself."

  “They’re going to make me kill other people,” she said, her voice trembling. “They’re innocent, Astraea. Forced into this sick game. And for what? To become like you?”

  Astraea’s smile faded instantly.

  She stepped down from the railing. “What makes you think the other candidates are like the weak humans of Veilmouth?”

  Selene blinked. "What?"

  “Again, your naivety sickens me. We are in the Crimson Kingdom.” Astraea gestured toward the retreating figures. “Innocence is not something you will find in these lands. They are tools of the ancient noble bloodlines, cultivated for power as the humans in your precious Veilmouth cultivate crops. Whatever humanity they had was taken long ago.”

  She leaned in close, her crimson eyes grave. “Trust no one. There is only filth in this Academy, and it is all you will ever gain from it.”

  Astraea looked past Selene then, her gaze settling on a figure lingering near the cliff edge. "Except, perhaps, that waste of breath behind you."

  Selene turned.

  Oswald stood alone by the railing, staring up at the moon through the clouds, his messy hair whipped by the sea wind. He looked small, lost, and terrified.

  “Oswald,” Selene called.

  He flinched and turned sharply. “I… yes?”

  “Do you want to come with us?”

  Oswald’s gaze flicked between Selene and the figure of Astraea. Confusion crossed his face, then his shoulders sagged.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Come on,” Selene said, her brows knitting together. She turned toward the causeway. “I need to talk to Sebastian.”

  The walk back to the Upper Tier was something Selene could not grow accustomed to. The wind cut cold between the towers as dragons circled the citadel spires above, their distant cries carried like omens on the air. When they reached Sebastian’s manor, the double doors opened before they even touched the threshold, as if the house had been waiting for her.

  Freyr stood in the entryway. She wore the silence of the manor like a second skin.

  "Welcome back," Freyr said softly, bowing her head.

  “Where is Sebastian?” Selene asked, barely slowing her pace.

  “Master Sebastian is in his study,” Freyr replied, gesturing gracefully toward the main corridor.

  As Freyr led Selene and Astraea toward the west wing, Oswald lagged behind. He took a few steps to follow, then stopped dead in his tracks.

  From deep within the manor, echoing off the vaulted ceilings, came the same melancholy, intricate melody Selene had heard before.

  The melody reached Oswald. The fear in his eyes vanished, replaced by sudden, intense focus. It was as if the music had hooked him, pulling him toward the only thing he understood.

  While Freyr led the others toward the study, Oswald turned right, unnoticed, drawn toward the source of the melody.

  The music grew fainter behind them as they continued down the corridor.

  Freyr opened the study door, ushered Astraea and Selene inside, then closed it behind them.

  The room was dim, lit by the glow of the fireplace and several red crystals embedded in the walls. High shelves lined with ancient texts stretched to the ceiling.

  Sebastian stood near the desk.

  Around him stood Garen and Selis.

  "Selene!" Selis turn immediately, relief washing over her face.

  “You’re awake,” Garen said, letting out a heavy breath. He looked exhausted, a half-eaten loaf of bread in his hand.

  Selene ignored them. Her eyes locked onto the vampire standing in front of her.

  "What are you planning, Sebastian?".

  Sebastian turned slowly, a glass filled with crimson liquid in his hand, swirling it gently. “I am planning for survival, Selene.”

  "Survival?" Selene stepped forward. "You want me to kill. I won't do it. I won't kill humans."

  He set the glass down on the desk.

  “You need to understand,” Sebastian said, his voice calm and reasonable, which only made her angrier. “This is the only way. The Council is suspicious. They are tightening their grip. The Ascension… it was the best I could do to buy us time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “To place you where you rightfully belong, at the top of the world. I have seen what you are capable of. This trial should be nothing more than a stepping stone. You need only reach the Colosseum and incapacitate anyone else who makes it.”

  He leaned forward, his red eyes burning. “There is only one thing that matters: you must Ascend. You must win.”

  "Why?" Selene shouted, her control fracturing. "Why do I have to do this?"

  "Because Veilmouth depends on it!" Sebastian’s voice rose. "Because out there, things are worse than I thought."

  He walked around the desk. "The corruption... Carmilla's influence is spreading its poison. The Council is rejecting reality, hiding behind their walls and rituals. If things do not change, I fear that both the Kingdom and your valley will fall. Everything you know will be consumed."

  He stopped in front of her. “Do you understand the peril we face? That is why I have tasked your friends with helping me organize a rebellion among the lesser nobility. We all need to play our parts.”

  Selis stepped forward. “Selene… we have been speaking to other nobles. At Sebastian’s behest. He… at least on this, he is not lying. The fear is real.”

  "I don't care about that!" Selene yelled. "I care about—"

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Her heart lurched for one fierce beat.

  Thump.

  The sound of the room warped. The firelight stretched into long, bleeding ribbons. Sebastian’s voice became a distant drone.

  The hunger rose in an instance.

  Selene’s vision tunneled. Everything slowed down. She saw Astraea’s neck.

  In a blink, Selene moved.

  There was no transition. One moment she was standing in front of Sebastian; the next, she was before Astraea—a blur of black hair and violence.

  She slammed Astraea against the stone wall, the impact cracking as she drove her into the stone.

  Astraea gasped, but it wasn’t fear. Her eyes rolled back, a flush rising in her cheeks as she tilted her head, exposing her throat.

  “Yes… yes,” she breathed. “There you are. Take it.”

  Selene buried her teeth in Astraea’s neck.

  Blood flooded her mouth. Astraea shuddered, her knees buckling, a low, twisted moan escaping her lips as she clung to Selene’s shoulders.

  “Selene! Stop!”

  Selis rushed forward, grabbing Selene’s arm, trying to pull her away. “Selene, look at me! This isn’t you!”

  Selene didn't look. She just reacted.

  She swung her arm, a casual backhand meant to swat away a fly. But the force behind it was monstrous.

  Her knuckles connected with Selis.

  A heavy, hollow thump.

  Selis was hurled backward as if fired from a cannon. She tore across the study, crashing through the heavy desk before slamming into the far bookshelf. Books and splintered wood rained down around her. The glass cup toppled from the desk and shattered on the floor.

  She hit the floor and didn’t move.

  Garen went still. The loaf of bread slipped from his slack fingers, tumbling to the rug. He stared at the wreckage of the desk before snapping his gaze toward Selene with terror.

  Sebastian stared at the spilled glass on the floor, his red eyes fixed on the spreading liquid. He looked as though he were studying its reflection.

  The sound of the impact shattered the trance. Selene pulled back from Astraea, gasping for air.

  Astraea slid down the wall, clutching her bleeding neck, looking up at Selene with dazed, adoring eyes, her breathing ragged and heavy.

  Selene spun around.

  “Selis?”

  Selis groaned, pushing herself up from the debris.

  Selene looked at her own hands. They were trembling. There was blood on her lips.

  She began to wipe it off frantically, smearing crimson across her cheek. Then a laugh bubbled up from her chest, a hollow, broken sound. Not from her, but from something within her.

  The heavy doors creaked open.

  Philippa, the Headmistress, stepped in, her cane tapping against the floor.

  "Master Sebastian? You called for—"

  She stopped. Her eyes swept the room. The shattered furniture. The bleeding vampire squire sliding down the wall in ecstasy. Selis pulling herself from the wreckage. And Selene, with blood on her mouth, shaking.

  Sebastian spoke quickly, stepping closer to the headmistress.

  “Philippa,” he said, his voice flat and calm. “Please take Selene to her room. She needs rest.”

  Philippa’s gaze lingered on Selene. She nodded once.

  "As you wish."

  The corridor was long and shadowed. Philippa walked with a rhythmic tap of her cane, while Selene followed a few steps behind, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to keep her pieces together.

  "You drank blood," Philippa said. She didn't turn around. "I can smell it on you."

  Selene didn't answer. She felt sick. The metallic taste still lingered on her tongue.

  "So you are not human after all," Philippa continued. "Sebastian's plan becomes clear. You are the key he promised me. The one that will make them pay for what they've done."

  Selene stopped walking. The haze of bloodlust had receded, but panic replaced it.

  “Oswald,” she breathed. “Where is he? We left him behind.”

  Philippa paused, turning slightly. Her scar twisted in the dim light as she tilted her head.

  "Can you not hear them?" she asked softly.

  Selene went still. At first, nothing. Then it came, drifting up from the lower levels, faint but undeniable: the piano. The same intricate, melancholy melody from before. Leonard’s playing.

  But this time, rising above the notes was a voice beautiful and aching. It wove in and out of the piano’s notes like smoke through candlelight.

  Selene’s eyes widened.

  It was Oswald. He was singing.

  The melody swelled, the boy’s voice locking perfectly with music, creating a harmony that felt too beautiful.

  “The human you brought in has found a kindred spirit in Leonard,” She said. “I suspect he is more at peace right now than you are.”

  The tension drained from Selene's shoulders.

  They resumed walking, turning deeper into the corridor. As they curved around the corner, Philippa’s cane tip snagged on the stone.

  She stumbled and fell hard, a brittle sound escaping her throat as her knees struck the floor.

  Selene was beside her at once, kneeling, her hands steadying the old vampire’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

  Philippa’s breath came in shallow, rattling pulls. She did not push Selene away. For a moment, she remained on her knees, the composure she wore like armor falling away.

  "I am dying."

  The words didn't make sense. "You're a vampire. How can you be dying?"

  “Our strength fades,” Philippa said. She allowed Selene to help her up. “Our powers abandon us. We decay. The world itself is failing, and even without Carmilla’s corruption, this rot will claim us all.”

  She steadied herself on the cane, but the mask had slipped. Beneath it was exhaustion.

  “I was once a noble,” she said, her voice low. “When the Church saw my decline, they cast me out. They scarred my face to mark my impurity. They believe this disease afflicts only tainted blood, impure lineage. To them, blood purity is law. To lose it is to lose everything.”

  Her red eyes found Selene’s.

  “That is why Sebastian needs you.”

  Selene held her eyes. The weight of it, the dying vampire, the scarred face.

  She looked away.

  "I need to be alone," Selene whispered. "Please."

  Philippa studied her for a long moment. Then she agree.

  They reached the door to Selene's chamber in silence. Philippa opened it and stood aside, her silhouette sharp against the firelight from within.

  Selene stepped through without looking back. The door clicked shut behind her.

  The room was quiet. Aside from the faint music humming from below, she was alone.

  She walked to the mirror and stared at her reflection.

  Her dyed black hair was tangled. Her skin was deathly pale. And there, on her lips, was a single smear of crimson.

  Who are you?

  The face in the mirror did not answer. For a sceond, the reflection rippled, the eyes flashing silver before settling back to gray-green.

  Selene’s legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.

  She hit the floor. As darkness reached up to claim her, the last thing she heard was the faint ghost of Oswald’s voice drifting through the stones.

  Light came all at once. Selene stood in the forest. She knew this place. It was the dream she kept returning to, filled with memories that weren’t hers.

  But this time, something was different. There was no sound of an axe. No laughter.

  Then she saw him.

  At the edge of the clearing, the woodcutter stood among the ferns. Suspended. Motionless. Arms hanging loosely, like a marionette abandoned by its puppeteer.

  Selene thought she could help. She ran through the ferns, over the roots, the moss soft beneath her boots. She ran the way the little girl had run, bounding toward her father with arms full of white blossoms.

  She slowed, then stopped.

  The woodcutter hung in the air, boots dangling above the moss. His head lolled. His eyes were open, but they saw nothing.

  Behind him, half-hidden in his shadow, stood a beautiful figure.

  The divine form stepped out, taller and terrifyingly perfect, silver hair flowing like liquid metal. Her lips were dark and wet. Blood dripped from her chin in thin rivulets that caught the dappled light. She held him by the back of the neck with one hand.

  Then she tossed him aside.

  The woodcutter's body rolled through the ferns.

  The Blood smiled, lazy and satisfied. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. Tucked away in memories that aren’t even yours. ”She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “How pathetic.”

  Selene's hands were shaking. "You. I thought I made you go away."

  The Blood laughed. “How foolish of you. As long as you hunger… I will always be with you.”

  The taste of Astraea’s blood surged back into Selene’s mouth, intoxicating, terrible.

  “Every drop you drink is a door you open for me,” the Blood purred. “And you never disappoint. Your own kind, Selene… and I thought I had seen every form of desperation.”

  She looked around the clearing and her expression curdled into contempt. "I hate this place." She snapped her fingers.

  The forest was unmade. Trees collapsed into black dust. The canopy shattered upward into nothing. The moss liquefied into dark water stretching in every direction, a black, glassy ocean beneath a void that pressed down with the weight of centuries.

  The water boiled upward and coalesced into a throne of jagged obsidian and slick bone. The divine was already seated, one leg draped over the armrest, chin on her fist.

  “Much better. I used my time alone wisely.” She leaned forward. “I finally understand why that sword chose you. Let me put it this way: you and Nihil are more connected than you think. You are parts of the same whole.”

  "What does that mean?"

  The divine smiled. “You will understand when the time comes.”

  From her throne, she looked down upon Selene.

  “But let’s talk about you. Aren’t you tired of being everyone’s little whore?”

  “Sebastian tells you to fight, you fight. Eldric tells you to dig, you dig. Everyone pulls. You just get dragged.” She held up one finger. “Sebastian dropped you into a tournament where humans kill each other, and you bowed your head and played along.”

  A second finger. “Eldric. He found you in the ruins and kept it hidden from you, because telling you the truth served no purpose to him. You were not a daughter. You were a discovery. And what a discovery you turned out to be.” She smiled again, showing her white, bloodied fangs.

  “I know what he did. And you know it too.” The divine tilted her head, faint amusement in her eyes. “Moments ago, you fed like an animal. Again.” A soft laugh escaped her. “Tell me… how many more times before you slaughter someone you love?” Her smile widened. "And if I do nothing, you will run rampant."

  Selene's nails dug into her palms.

  “Without me, you’re a girl with a sword and a hunger you can’t control. With me?” A slow smile spread across her face. “You’re something that makes everything kneel. The hunger becomes a weapon you direct, not one that directs you.”

  “I’m offering you something you’ve never had. Actual freedom. We inhabit the same shell. That isn’t changing. So instead of fighting until one of us breaks the other’s neck, let’s share it. A pact. You keep your pathetic morality. I provide the power. And together, no one will ever use us again.”

  Selene reached out to touch the divine hand. As she did, she saw the blood on the divine fingers. Her eyes widened, and she stopped.

  “No”

  The Blood blinked. “No?”

  “You’re right about some of it. Maybe all of it.” She pulled her hand back. “But I know you’re plotting something, too. You would never see me as your equal.”

  The Blood withdrew her hand and sank back onto her throne. Same posture. Same lazy patience.

  She said softly, “You will come around. If I don’t convince you, the world itself will.”

  Her silver eyes drifted shut. A smile curved across her lips, lazy, patient, eternal.

  She snapped her fingers once more. For a heartbeat, darkness swallowed Selene whole, the echo of the snap lingering in the void.

  Selene woke up.