The ocean was restless.
Waves slammed violently against the cliffs beneath Lucien's mansion, as if the sea itself sensed what had awakened.
Inside—
Silence.
But not peace.
Elena hadn't slept.
Not after being called Rift Heir.
Not after watching Lucien heal from a wound that should have killed anyone.
Not after the way he had held her hand.
She hated that part most.
Because it felt safe.
And safe was dangerous.
High above, in the mansion's tallest tower—
Lucien stood inside a circular chamber carved with ancient sigils.
Candles ignited on their own.
He sliced his palm with a silver dagger.
Dark blood fell onto a stone emblem.
It glowed.
Five figures materialized in the air.
The Vampire Council.
Ancient. Cold. Merciless.
A silver-haired woman stepped forward.
"Lucien Draven."
"Speak," he replied.
"We felt the Veil rupture."
"I am aware."
"And we felt something else," another council member hissed. "Ancient blood."
Silence.
"You have her," the silver-haired woman said.
Not a question.
Lucien's jaw tightened slightly.
"She is under my protection."
A ripple of murmurs followed.
"Protection?" one mocked. "Or possession?"
The temperature dropped.
"Choose your words carefully," Lucien said quietly.
The woman studied him.
"The prophecy was clear. The Rift Heir will either strengthen the Vampire King… or destroy him."
"I do not follow prophecies."
"You should. If the Veil collapses fully, both realms fall."
"Then we prevent it."
"Or," her gaze sharpened, "we eliminate the source."
The chamber went still.
Lucien's voice lowered into something ancient and lethal.
"No."
"Do not let emotion cloud centuries of judgment."
His eyes flashed red.
"I do not feel."
The council exchanged knowing looks.
"If you refuse to surrender her," the woman said calmly, "we will act."
Lucien stepped forward.
The projection trembled.
"Try."
The connection shattered.
Silence returned.
But something had changed.
For the first time in centuries—
Lucien was defying his own kind.
For her.
Downstairs—
Elena wandered through the mansion.
The place felt alive.
Watching.
She entered a massive library.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves. Leather-bound volumes. Dust that smelled older than history.
She pulled a random book.
It fell open.
Her breath stopped.
A symbol glowed faintly on the page.
The same one that had flared from her chest.
The illustration showed a woman surrounded by crimson energy—
Ghosts kneeling.
Underneath it read:
The Heir of the Rift carries creation in one hand… annihilation in the other.
"Fantastic," she muttered. "I'm a walking apocalypse."
"Possibly."
She spun.
Lucien stood in the doorway.
Watching.
"Do you ever knock?"
"I heard your heartbeat change."
"That's disturbing."
"Yes."
She shut the book hard.
"You knew."
"I suspected."
"And you still brought me here?"
His eyes darkened slightly.
"You are safer here."
"You don't know that!"
"I do."
"Stop acting like you control everything!"
"And stop pretending you are powerless!" he snapped.
Silence slammed between them.
"You think I wanted this?" she demanded. "You think I asked for monsters and prophecies?"
He stepped closer.
"So leave."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Walk out the door."
He moved aside.
He wasn't stopping her.
Her pride flared.
She marched past him.
The grand doors opened.
Wind rushed in.
She stepped outside—
And froze.
The forest beyond the cliffs twisted unnaturally.
Trees warped.
Shadows shifted between trunks.
A pale figure stepped forward.
"You cannot leave your King, Rift Heir."
Her breath shook.
Lucien's voice came from behind her.
"Still wish to test your independence?"
"Shut up."
The figures advanced.
Lucien moved past her calmly.
Cracked his neck.
"Stand behind me."
She hesitated.
Then did.
The ghosts attacked all at once.
There were too many.
They didn't target him.
They lunged for her.
Fear surged—
And the crimson power exploded again.
Stronger.
A shockwave tore through the air.
Several ghosts disintegrated instantly.
The rest fled.
Silence.
Her breathing was unsteady.
"What is happening to me?"
Lucien approached slowly.
"You are awakening."
"I don't want to."
"You may not have a choice."
She looked small for a moment.
Vulnerable.
He almost touched her face.
Almost.
Instead—
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back inside.
The doors slammed shut.
"You will not step outside without me again."
"Or what?"
He pinned her lightly against the door.
Not violent.
But firm.
His body close enough that she felt his cold heat.
"Or I will restrain you."
"Is that a threat?"
"It is a promise."
Her pulse raced.
"You don't own me."
"No."
His voice lowered.
"But I am beginning to believe I cannot allow you to belong anywhere else."
Her breath caught.
His hand brushed her waist.
Intentional.
Slow.
"Careful," she whispered.
A dangerous smile touched his lips.
"You are the one playing with fire."
He leaned closer—
Their lips inches apart—
And the windows shattered.
Glass exploded inward.
Figures landed inside.
Not ghosts.
Vampires.
Eyes glowing gold.
The Council's elite.
Lucien stepped away instantly.
Cold again.
"Predictable."
"By order of the Council," one guard said, "the girl is to be surrendered."
Lucien stood in front of her.
"You will leave."
They attacked.
This fight was brutal.
No shadows.
Just raw speed.
Claws. Strength. Impact.
One lunged for Elena.
Her power erupted—
But this time—
It bent.
The attacking vampire froze mid-air.
Gravity twisted around him.
Lucien saw it.
Her power wasn't just destructive.
It altered reality.
He tore through the remaining guards in seconds.
Silence.
The frozen vampire dropped lifelessly.
Elena stared at her hands.
"I didn't mean to kill him."
"He meant to kill you."
"That doesn't make it better!"
She stepped back from Lucien.
"With you, I survive," he said quietly.
"With you, I'm becoming something I don't recognize!"
Her voice cracked.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
His expression softened.
"You are still you."
"How would you know?"
Because I see you.
Because I feel you.
Because you terrify me more than death.
But he only said—
"The Council will not stop."
"And you'll keep fighting them?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He stepped closer.
Intense.
Unwavering.
"Because they are wrong."
"About what?"
"About eliminating you."
She searched his face.
"For someone who claims he doesn't feel… you're doing a lot."
His control slipped.
His hand gripped her waist.
Firm.
Possessive.
He pulled her close.
"If they try to take you," he whispered, voice dark and dangerous, "I will burn this world before I surrender you."
Her breath stopped.
That wasn't strategy.
That was choice.
Outside—
The crimson moon burned brighter.
In another dimension—
A colossal gate began forming.
A voice echoed through darkness:
"The Vampire King has chosen his weakness."
Inside the mansion—
Lucien did not release her.
And for the first time—
He wondered if they were right.
Because if she was his weakness—
He had no intention of giving her up.