Riven's POV
I'm back in that dark place again. Shadows crawl across the floor like spilled ink, cold and alive. And there he is—the man with my father's face but older, lined with power.
"Welcome, son," the elderly voice says .
I don't just see him—I see them. Rows of ancestors, witches all of them staring at me like a council of ghosts.
"Grandfather," I breathe. "Why am I here again?"
"You are here because your middle eye is already open." His voice is like thunder muffled by velvet. "You are marked now. Lior is yours, as much as you are his. The enemies shall be perished into nothing but ash."
He steps forward, palm warm as it presses against my forehead. "Now your time has come. Bring that lost soul home, son."
He removes his hand, and everything shudders. The council dissolves into smoke, but before the darkness swallows me I see it—two red moons bleeding into each other, and a warrior slicing my father's neck clean. My mother stands waiting in the distance, silent as stone. The vision snaps and I jolt upright, heart pounding.
"What happened?" Lior asks softly from beside me. His hand almost reaches me, then pulls back. Concern darkens his eyes.
"Nothing," I lie. My voice sounds rough even to me.
He looks at me for a long time but doesn't push. "You can sleep. It's still night. I'm going for a hunt," he says, and walks out.
I sit in the dark, fingers digging into my palms. This is too much. But one thing is clear: the warrior who killed my father is alive. And he's going to pay.
---
Lior's POV
I walk into the dining room to find my sister sipping a glass of blood like it's fine wine.
"Did you find anything?" I ask.
She doesn't even look up. "Damn, if you weren't covered in your mate scent, I'd have thought you were coming from one of your little fuck buddies."
I roll my eyes. "Cut me some slack, man. And guess who's free? Me. The curse is broken, by the way."
"I know," she says calmly. "The storm that was present has gone."
"What—was it raining?"
"No, fool. There was a storm coming, but it's passed. Now…" She slides a thick book across the table. "This is what I found about the third person. Rare Blood Bound Hunter power."
Her eyes flick up. "You're gonna want to sit down for this."
I do. She reads:
> Name (ability): Umbra Corvum (Latin: Shadow of the Crow)
Crow Manipulation – Can summon, command, and see through the eyes of crows. Each crow acts as a spy, messenger, or attacker.
Identity Veil – Masks aura, hiding the fact that they're a Blood Bound Hunter. Appears as vampire, witch, or even human depending on illusion.
Crow Assimilation – If injured, can dissolve into a swarm of crows to escape, reforming elsewhere.
Crow Curse – A crow's caw can mark an enemy. Marked enemies are stalked by crows, weakened, betrayed by their location.
Weakness / Limit – Every crow feeds on their blood. The more they commands, the weaker they become.
When veiled, their strength is cut in half—they can't fight at full power while hidden.
She closes the book. "Whoever they are , they are strong."
"I know," I say quietly. "But I'm ready for war. After all, Riven is my mate."
"You better be prepared," she says, watching me like she can already see what's coming. "They're close."
Her words echo in my head long after I leave.
---
Undisclosed Location
"It's done," the female voice whispers.
"What do you mean 'done'?" the elder asks.
"Riven has mated with Lior. It's done. He will see us coming now," the woman says.
"Isn't there another way? So he doesn't see us?" the young man demands as the fog of darkness swirls around them. Their meeting place is a hollow void, a circle of nothing.
"There is none," the young woman replies, anxious.
"There is always a way," the elder says slowly. His eyes gleam like old coals. "We cannot blind him now—he's strong. But I have a better plan."
"And that plan is?" the young man snaps.
"Watch and see," the elder murmurs.
"You can't say that when my life is in danger," the young man snarls. "You better tell me the way forward, skimpy old man."
The elder sighs, but his gaze pierces the dark like a knife. "The ones of the same blood will have to go against each other. The two blood moons, born on the same day, separated on the same day."
He turns to leave.
"What the hell was that old man saying?" the young man mutters, bewildered.
"It's a riddle," the woman says quietly. "He knows something we don't."
"The question is," the young man murmurs, "what is it?"