Chapter 1: Shadows of Vengeance
The wind howled across Belvane like a chorus of forgotten spirits. Candlelight trembled through shuttered windows, casting fleeting shadows across cobblestone streets. But Sia Elara Valeur walked those streets alone, silent as the mist curling around her boots, her pale skin catching the faint moonlight like frost on marble. The village slept, but she did not. Sleep had been a stranger since she was six, since that night that had burned itself into memory with unyielding clarity.
The humans of Belvane knew nothing of the dangers that lurked beyond their sleepy province. Superstitions sufficed: whispers of spirits, omens in candlelight, harmless warnings from old wives. But Sia had always known differently. Even as a child, she had felt it—the presence of things that should not be. Shadows that moved against the wind. Eyes that glimmered too sharply in the dark. A silence that pressed against her chest with impossible weight.
She paused at the edge of the village, where crooked cottages gave way to twisted woods. Mist crawled among tree trunks like fingers reaching for her ankles. Her green eyes, flecked with gold, scanned the fog-laden forest as if expecting it to remember her. And perhaps it did.
The memory of her mother's death, seared into her very soul, whispered in the spaces between the trees. Rage, grief, and a hollow longing mingled into a single unrelenting fire within her—a fire that would not be quenched until vengeance was hers.
---
Sleep, when it came, was never gentle. Tonight, she was six again. The memory was vivid, raw, like breathing itself. She crouched behind the splintered cupboard door in her mother's cottage. Moonlight spilled across the room, sharp and pale, illuminating shadows that moved with predatory grace.
The intruders came silently, tall and impossibly elegant, their eyes glinting gold like molten metal. Sia's mother, pale and beautiful, stood in the center of the room, her hands outstretched as though to shield her daughter.
"Hide, Sia! Hide!" she whispered, urgency trembling in her voice.
Sia obeyed, frozen in terror, heart hammering so loud she feared it might give them away. The creatures moved closer, precise and unhuman. Claws struck with cold perfection; fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Her mother's eyes found hers one last time—pleading, commanding, a silent promise to survive. But survival felt impossible. Sia could only watch as life was drained from the woman she had loved more than the world itself.
Even now, years later, the image burned in her mind. Every detail remembered—the swing of the claws, the glint of teeth, the moonlight on her mother's skin, the despair in her young heart. And from that night, vengeance had been born.
---
She awoke shivering, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. Her senses pulled her into the forest. Mist clung to her skin like silk, and the trees rose taller, older, as if the nightmare had carried her into another world altogether.
Branches scratched at her face; roots tried to claim her ankles. She ran, driven by an invisible force. Somewhere ahead, through the haze, a figure awaited. A presence both terrifying and magnetic, pulling her with invisible threads of authority.
Cassiopeia.
She did not understand who the woman was. Yet the sight of her—a being cloaked in twilight silks, hair cascading like black rivers over her shoulders, eyes like galaxies swirling with knowledge and patience—struck Sia with awe and terror in equal measure.
"You carry a fire within you," Cassiopeia said, voice like wind over cliffs, soft yet reverberating through Sia's bones. "The path ahead is not gentle. You will endure, though not without scars."
Sia's hands curled into fists. She wanted answers, to demand the truth of her mother's death, to know who had taken her and why. But Cassiopeia only inclined her head, unspoken: "Seek, but tread carefully. The forest remembers everything. And you… you will need guidance soon."
The figure dissolved into mist before Sia could react. She awoke again, heart racing, muscles trembling, and a new awareness settled over her—the first taste of destiny, of a path she did not yet understand.
---
The days that followed were consumed by obsession. Sia walked through Belvane like a ghost, eyes ever watchful, noting shadows in corners, whispers in the wind, the faintest hints of movement. Every step became a calculation; every breath, a preparation. The villagers looked at her with mild unease, sensing her quiet intensity, but never understanding.
Her dreams persisted, fragmenting and intertwining with memory. The murder of her mother replayed nightly, each time more vivid, sharper, like a blade slicing into the present. Yet the forest dream remained, pulling at her like a current she could not resist.
Branches, mist, the whisper of Cassiopeia's voice—all burned into her mind, insistent and magnetic. Something beyond the world of humans awaited, and Sia knew instinctively that it held answers.
---
Night fell again. Sia succumbed to sleep, and the dream returned. This time, it was deeper, denser, more vivid. The forest loomed with towering trees, silver mist clinging to their bark. Roots tangled around her feet, yet she moved forward with purpose.
Ahead, the stone appeared again. And upon it sat Cassiopeia, her silks whispering with movement as if alive, hair cascading like darkness poured over the stones. Eyes of galaxies bore into Sia, infinite and eternal.
"You are not ready," the Ermitanya said softly, each word striking Sia's chest with impossible weight. "The path you seek will demand more than rage. Your fire is strong, but fragile. You will face dangers that no human should endure."
"Tell me! Please! Who did this to my mother?" Sia pleaded, voice trembling.
Cassiopeia's galaxy-filled gaze held quiet sadness. "Patience, child. The world beyond is not as it seems. Seek, and you will find. Endure, and you will act. But remember: vengeance is a flame that can consume the bearer as easily as the foe."
Before Sia could respond, the figure dissolved into mist once more. She awoke, cold, trembling, sweat soaking her hair, the echo of the forest and Cassiopeia's cryptic presence still clinging to her mind.
---
The next morning, Sia moved with purpose. She wrapped herself in a dark cloak, tucking her hair beneath a hood, and stepped toward the forest. The dream had planted a seed—Cassiopeia's presence, the whispers of guidance, the forest itself. Something waited there, something she needed to find, though she could not yet name it.
Belvane receded behind her, candlelight flickering faintly like distant stars. The mist embraced her as she entered the forest, and the first step of vengeance had been taken. Somewhere beyond the trees, destiny waited, silent and patient.
---
Hours passed. The mist thickened, curling around her ankles, softening the sounds of her footsteps. Occasionally, she paused, sensing movement in the shadows—something alive, unseen, waiting. Her pulse quickened, but she did not falter. Each step was a defiance of the fear that sought to stop her.
Finally, she arrived at a clearing she recognized from her dream, the stone upon which Cassiopeia had sat shimmering faintly under the morning light. And there she was.
Cassiopeia stood as Sia approached, the twilight silks flowing elegantly, every movement deliberate, measured, and timeless. Her eyes bore into Sia's, calm yet inscrutable, as though weighing the depth of her resolve.
"You have come," the Ermitanya said, voice echoing faintly like a bell in the mist. "You have taken the first step into the path that is yours alone. Do you understand what you seek?"
Sia swallowed, fists still tight. "I want… I need to cross. To fight. To avenge her." She did not name her mother; the pain was too raw, too private.
Cassiopeia's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Then take this." From beneath her cloak, she produced a necklace—a delicate chain of silver and black, the pendant glimmering faintly with an inner light. "Wear it always. Do not remove it. It will guide you, shield you, and announce your presence to what lies beyond. But be warned—the path you enter will test every ounce of your being. Your rage will not be enough; wisdom and restraint are required, though they may not come easily to you."
Sia took the necklace with reverent hands, the cold metal sending a shiver through her veins. "I understand," she whispered, her green eyes burning with determination.
"Good," Cassiopeia said. "Tomorrow, when the veil opens, the portal will await you. And then, your journey truly begins."
---
The forest around her fell silent as dusk settled. Sia sat by a tree, the necklace warm against her skin, and allowed herself a single, shaky breath. Rage still coursed through her, a blazing inferno she could not—and would not—extinguish. Yet now, she had purpose. Now, she had guidance, and a tool to protect her as she stepped into a world she had only sensed in dreams.
She watched the last slivers of light fade from the sky, the forest wrapping around her like a shroud. Shadows lengthened and twisted in unnatural patterns, and the scent of iron and pine filled the air. She could feel the veil between worlds,
a thin membrane waiting for her to pierce it.
Tomorrow, she would cross. Tomorrow, she would take the first step toward vengeance.
---
Morning came pale and fragile. Sia, necklace secured, cloak wrapped tight, approached the clearing once more. Mist curled around her feet, curling in a dance of silver and shadow. The runes along the stone edges pulsed faintly, alive with ancient energy.
The pool shimmered, liquid light rippling without wind. This was the portal. The boundary between her world, Belvane, and the realms beyond—where vampires and werewolves plotted, and where her vengeance could begin.
Sia's green eyes met the liquid shimmer, gold glinting with rage, determination, and the memory of a mother she had loved and lost. Every step forward felt like a crossing of time, space, and destiny itself.
With one final breath, she stepped into the portal. Mist enveloped her, the forest fading, and the veil of worlds beyond embraced her completely.
The path ahead was uncertain, dangerous, and unknown—but she did not falter. The necklace lay against her chest, warm and insistent, a tether to Cassiopeia's guidance and a promise that she was prepared for what lay beyond.
And in that instant, Sia Elara Valeur's journey into vengeance, discovery, and the shadowed realms of vampires and wolves truly began.