The blood moon hung heavy in the night sky, casting an eerie red glow over the city of Alverin. The streets lay quiet beneath its watchful eye, unaware of the ancient forces stirring in its shadows.
Lucien Valtoris stood atop the old cathedral's spire, the wind clawing at his cloak like hungry ghosts. His silver eyes scanned the alleys below, narrowed in frustration. The rogue had vanished, leaving behind only the scent of burnt magic and betrayal. But another scent clung to the air now—something far older, far rarer.
Omega.
It shouldn't have been possible.
Not in this age. Not in this blood-starved world where true bonds had long since turned to myths.
Lucien inhaled again, sharp and slow. The fragrance was unmistakable—lavender with a current of lightning, like the first breath before a storm. It coiled through his senses, igniting a hunger more primal than thirst. His fangs grazed his lower lip as instinct warred with logic.
She was out there. His Omega.
And she was unclaimed.
With a blur of shadow and speed, he descended the cathedral walls like a wraith. The hunt had changed. The rogue no longer mattered. She did.
**
Elira Vale always walked home the same way, through the overgrown garden beside the old theatre. She liked the quiet there, the way the roses bloomed even in moonlight. They reminded her of her mother, now long gone. Tonight, the air felt different—thick, electric. Like the world was holding its breath.
Her steps slowed.
She felt it first in her wrist—the soft burn under her skin, where a crescent-shaped birthmark pulsed faintly, something it hadn't done since childhood. She stared at it, heart fluttering like wings in her chest. That mark… It meant something. Her grandmother had once whispered of Omegas, of ancient bonds, of creatures that weren't meant for light.
Elira had always thought they were stories.
Until now.
She looked up—and met his eyes.
He stood at the edge of the garden, half in shadow, tall and impossibly still. His coat whipped in the wind, yet his hair remained untouched, raven-dark and silken. His eyes were molten silver, locked onto hers as if he'd waited centuries just to find her.
"Who are you?" she asked, voice trembling despite her effort to remain calm.
Lucien didn't speak immediately. He moved toward her like mist over marble—fluid, silent, deadly. But not to her. Never to her.
"Elira," he said, and her name in his voice sounded like prophecy.
"How do you know my name?"
"I've always known."
**
The bond thrummed between them like a taut string. He stood only inches from her now. She could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the night and spice in his breath. Every cell in her body urged her to step into him, to let him claim her. But her mind screamed caution. He wasn't human. He couldn't be.
"You should run," he said softly, voice like velvet laced with thunder. "If you stay… everything changes."
"I'm not afraid," she lied.
He leaned in, close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. "You should be."
Then he vanished.
**
Elira didn't sleep that night.
Lucien did not feed.
Something ancient had begun to stir—the threads of destiny weaving a tale none of them could escape. She was more than just an Omega. And he was more than a vampire.
He was her Alpha.
But in Alverin, such a bond hadn't been seen in a thousand years. And if the ruling coven discovered it, they would hunt her. Use her. Break her.
Or worse.
Because bonded Omegas didn't just belong to their Alphas. They awakened power in them—power that could shatter kingdoms.
And Lucien Valtoris was already too strong.
**
The next night, Elira returned to the garden.
And he was waiting.
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, stepping closer anyway.
"Yet you are." His voice was calm, but something burned in his eyes. "You feel it too."
She nodded. "What is this?"
He reached out—fingers brushing the mark on her wrist. Her knees weakened, and her heart slammed in her chest. The air between them shimmered. Magic. Real. Ancient. Raw.
"The beginning," he said.
Then he took her hand- and the world burst into flame .