The rain doesn't fall tonight—it slashes.
Each drop is a blade against the windows of my little attic room, carving its fury into the glass. Thunder rolls like an angry god pacing outside, restless and wild, and for a heartbeat, it feels as if the world itself is warning me to stay inside.
But I've never been good at listening to warnings.
I'm halfway through buttoning my black coat when the candle flickers, guttering low. My reflection trembles in the cracked mirror—wide eyes, hair damp from the leak in the roof, skin glowing faintly in the dark. That glow again. It's been growing stronger lately, pulsing beneath my veins like a secret trying to claw its way out.
"Stop it," I whisper to my own reflection, gripping the edges of the mirror. "You're just tired. Not cursed. Not crazy."
The thunder answers me with a low growl.
I turn from the mirror, grabbing my satchel. The streets below the inn are half-flooded, cobblestones slick with mud and firelight. Mortals scurry beneath hoods and cloaks, but I move like a shadow through them, drawn by something I can't explain—something calling. The night hums, thick and alive.
Then the air shifts.
A pulse, low and steady, thunders through my ribs. The kind that makes your skin prickle before you understand you're being watched. I pause at the edge of the alley, breath fogging in the cold air.
And then—
Lightning splits the sky.
He steps from it.
A man—or something wearing the shape of one—emerges through the rain, every movement precise, dangerous, controlled. His coat whips like smoke, black as sin. His eyes—silver, cold, ancient—find mine in an instant, and the world seems to tilt.
The storm obeys him.
The thunder bows.
He walks toward me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
"Aradia," he says my name like he owns it. His voice is velvet over steel, deep and smooth, but it cuts straight to the bone. "You should not be here."
"How do you know my name?" I manage, though my voice trembles.
His lips curve—not a smile, more like a sin being remembered. "Because I've spent centuries trying to forget it."
Something burns beneath my ribs. Fear—or recognition? I take a step back, but the air thickens between us, pulling me closer. He smells of rain and iron and something darker, something that makes my pulse quicken against my will.
"You're—" I begin, but he's already beside me, faster than a blink. His fingers brush my wrist, and the world flares white.
Images. Fire. Wings. Blood.
A woman burning, her crown falling into ash. A man screaming her name as the world ends.
I gasp, yanking my hand free. "What—what did you do to me?"
"Nothing you weren't born for," he murmurs, his voice low enough to taste. "You don't belong in this world, Aradia. Not anymore."
I stumble back, heart slamming in my chest. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." His eyes catch the lightning again. "But that doesn't make me wrong."
For a heartbeat, I see the truth—the faint glow under his skin, the flicker of fangs when he speaks. The air itself bends around him, heavy with ancient power and hunger.
Vampire.
Every story I've ever heard whispers through my bones, telling me to run.
But I don't.
Instead, I meet his gaze, something wild rising inside me. "Then tell me who I am," I whisper. "Since you seem so certain."
His smile turns sharp, dangerous. "You're mine."
The streetlights explode.
Wind tears through the alley, ripping at my coat as he steps forward, and for one dizzy, terrifying instant, I see not a man—but a prince cloaked in smoke and shadow, eyes like molten silver. The storm howls, hungry, alive, and I swear the night itself bends to his command.
Then—darkness.
When I open my eyes, I'm lying on cold stone. A ceiling of black marble stretches above me, veins of crimson light pulsing through it like living fire.
I push myself up, trembling. "Where…?"
"Welcome home," that same voice says from the shadows.
He stands at the far end of the hall now, tall and terrible, a crown of bone resting against his dark hair.
"I told you," Valen murmurs, stepping closer, each word slow, deliberate. "You don't belong to the mortal realm."
My throat tightens. "And if I refuse you?"
He stops inches from me, his power brushing against my skin like smoke. "Then the world you love burns."
His hand lifts—just barely—and the air trembles.
Lightning flashes through the dark, revealing a kingdom carved of ash and obsidian, rising around me. Towers like fangs. Rivers of fire. And somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of my name being whispered by the dead.
I can't breathe.
I can't run.
I can only feel his gaze on me—ancient, possessive, almost devoted.
"Why me?" I whisper.
Valen's hand touches my cheek, cool as shadow. "Because once, before this cursed eternity, you were my queen."
The storm outside roars—wild, furious, alive.
And for the first time, I feel it answering me.
End of Chapter One — Cliffhanger:
Aradia awakens in the vampire prince's kingdom, bound by power she doesn't yet understand, and realizes the storm isn't just following him—
it's inside her.