The air shifted as we stepped toward the center of the ruins. A pulsing, living energy prickled across my skin—the residue of ancient magic. Each step we took seemed to disturb centuries of silent reverence.
"What is this place?" I whispered, unable to raise my voice any louder.
We stood before what appeared to be a vast circular lagoon of dark, viscous liquid. It wasn't water—it was too thick, too dark, swirling with crimson undertones that caught the light. The coppery scent filled my nostrils, and with sudden clarity, I realized what I was looking at.
Blood. An entire lagoon of it.
"This," Damian said, his voice vibrating with excitement, "is where the Selenias came to die."
My heart constricted painfully. In the center of the blood-lake stood a massive structure—a fountain carved in the shape of a crescent moon, its silver surface gleaming despite centuries of neglect. Water no longer flowed from it; instead, it stood as a silent monument, rising at least twenty feet from the surface of the dark pool.
But what caught my attention—what made my entire being tremble with recognition—was the pulsing red light embedded in the center of the structure.
"The Heart of the Selenias," Damian breathed, his eyes reflecting the crimson glow. "Exactly as the prophecies described."
I couldn't look away from it. The artifact pulsed like a living heart, sending ripples of energy across the dark lagoon with each beat. Each pulse felt like it was synchronized with my own heartbeat, calling to something deep within my blood.
"The collective power of every Selenia who has ever lived," Damian continued, his voice dropping to an almost reverential whisper. "Their magic, their souls—all preserved here, growing in strength with each generation's sacrifice."
I tore my gaze away to look at him. "Sacrifice?"
His lips curved into a cold smile. "How do you think this pool was formed? Each Selenia, at the end of her life, comes here to merge her power with those who came before. They give themselves entirely—blood, body, and soul."
Horror crawled up my spine as the implications sank in. "My mother..."
"Yes," he nodded. "Queen Seraphina came here for her final sacrifice. Her power flows in that pool, pulses in that heart."
I stared again at the blood lake, my stomach churning. My mother's blood. My ancestors' blood. The literal lifeblood of my entire lineage stretched before me in a grotesque mockery of a tranquil pond.
"Why have you brought me here?" I asked, though I already feared I knew the answer.
"I need that artifact." Damian pointed at the glowing heart. "And you're going to retrieve it for me."
I shook my head. "No. This is sacred. These are my people's remains. I won't desecrate their resting place."
His expression hardened. "Your sentimentality means nothing to me. Get the artifact, or your friends die."
As if to emphasize his point, he stretched out his hand, and a shimmering portal opened beside him. Through it, I could see Regina and Ronan, still bound in silver chains in the castle dungeon. A vampire guard stood over them, blade drawn, awaiting orders.
"One word from me," Damian said, "and that blade severs their heads from their bodies."
My hands clenched into fists. "You're a monster."
"I've been called worse." He closed the portal with a casual flick of his wrist. "Now, are you going to cooperate, or shall I give the order?"
Swallowing back bile, I turned toward the blood lake. "What do I need to do?"
"Wade in. Reach the fountain. Take the Heart."
I stared at the dark liquid, my entire being recoiling at the thought of entering it. But I had no choice. With trembling hands, I removed my boots and outer layers, leaving only my thin shift.
The first step into the blood lake sent a jolt through my system. It wasn't cold as I'd expected—instead, it was uncomfortably warm, like freshly spilled blood. I bit back a cry of revulsion as it closed around my ankles, thick and viscous.
"Keep going," Damian commanded from the shore.
I took another step, then another. The blood reached my knees, then my thighs, growing warmer with each step. Strange whispers filled my head—thousands of voices speaking at once, none clear enough to understand, yet all carrying the same undertone of warning.
*Turn back. This is not meant for you. Not yet.*
I ignored them, pushing forward. The blood rose to my waist, then my chest. Each movement sent waves of crimson rippling across the surface, disturbing centuries of stillness.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the base of the fountain. Up close, I could see intricate carvings covering its surface—symbols that matched the ones tattooed on my skin, telling stories I couldn't yet decipher.
Above me loomed the Heart of the Selenias, pulsing with hypnotic regularity. Its light cast everything in shades of crimson, illuminating the statue that held it.
I gasped, recognition shooting through me like lightning. The statue was of a woman—tall and regal, with long flowing hair and fierce eyes. In one hand, she held a spear; in the other, cupped before her, sat the Heart. I knew that face. I'd seen it in my dreams, in my memories.
"Mother," I whispered, my voice breaking.
The statue was Queen Seraphina—my mother—captured in stone at the moment of her sacrifice. Her expression was one of determined serenity, accepting her fate while protecting the power she guarded.
And now I stood here, preparing to steal the very thing she had died to preserve.
Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at her stone face. "I'm sorry," I murmured. "I don't want to do this."
The Heart pulsed faster, as if responding to my presence, to my voice. The whispers in my head grew louder, more insistent.
*Not yet. Not this way. This is sacrilege.*
"What are you waiting for?" Damian called from the shore. "Take it!"
I reached up, my hand trembling. The Heart was just beyond my grasp. I would need to climb the fountain to reach it.
Steeling myself, I found handholds in the carvings and began to haul myself up. The stone was slippery with blood, making each movement precarious. My muscles strained with the effort, but gradually I ascended toward the statue of my mother.
As I climbed, the whispers grew to a cacophony, impossible to ignore.
*Daughter of Seraphina. Last of our line. This is not your path.*
"I don't have a choice," I whispered back, tears streaming down my face. "He'll kill them if I don't."
*Some prices are too high. Some sacrifices cannot be undone.*
I reached the platform where the statue stood. Up close, my mother's stone face was even more lifelike—every detail perfect, down to the small scar above her eyebrow. Her eyes seemed to look through me, filled with both compassion and disappointment.
The Heart pulsed in her outstretched palm, bathing me in crimson light. It was smaller than I'd expected—no larger than a real heart—yet its power was unmistakable. It called to the magic in my blood, tugging at something deep within me.
"Hurry up!" Damian shouted, impatience clear in his tone.
I reached toward the Heart, my fingers hovering just inches away. The moment I touched it, I would be committing an unforgivable act—desecrating the very soul of my lineage, betraying everything my mother and ancestors had lived and died for.
But if I didn't, Regina and Ronan would die. Two innocent lives traded for a principle, for a legacy I barely understood.
"Please," I whispered to my mother's statue. "Forgive me."
My fingertips brushed against the surface of the Heart—
And the world exploded into light.
Visions flooded my mind, too fast to comprehend. I saw my mother as she had been in life, fierce and beautiful. I saw other women—dozens, hundreds of them—all with the same determination in their eyes, the same mark upon their skin. Selenias across generations, each facing her own impossible choices, her own sacrifices.
I saw the creation of this place—watched as the first Selenia spilled her blood into the earth, binding her magic to the land. Watched as others followed, century after century, adding their power to the growing pool. Watched as my own mother entered the lagoon, head held high, knowing what awaited her.
And through it all, one message, clear as crystal: *This power exists for a purpose. It is not meant for greed or conquest. It is the final defense against the darkness.*
I jerked my hand back, gasping. The Heart continued to pulse before me, unchanged by my touch, yet somehow I felt it had judged me—and found me wanting.
"Take it!" Damian roared from the shore. "Now!"
I stared at the artifact, trembling. The whispers had quieted to a single, unified voice:
*Choose.*
My hand hovered over the Heart, tears continuing to stream down my face. To take it would be to betray everything my bloodline stood for. But to leave it would condemn my friends to death.
I looked into my mother's stone eyes, searching for guidance, for permission, for absolution.
But only silence answered me.