Seraphina's POV
The white dress they gave me looked exactly like something you'd bury a corpse in.
I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror of my apartment. The fabric was simple, almost see-through, with long sleeves that covered the bandage on my bleeding palm. My red hair hung loose down my back. I looked like a ghost.
Maybe that's what I was. A dead girl walking.
"It's time," Elder Rowan called from outside my door.
I took one last look at my room. At the bucket list still lying on my desk. At the life I was leaving behind.
Then I walked out the door.
The entire village had gathered in the street.
Mrs. Chen clutched her rosary, whispering prayers. Thomas Reed stood with his arms crossed, his face twisted with anger and something that looked like fear. Even the children were there, peeking out from behind their mothers' skirts.
They were all staring at me like I was already dead.
"Where's my father?" I asked Elder Rowan.
He didn't meet my eyes. "Your father... couldn't be found this morning."
Couldn't be found. Right.
More like couldn't be bothered.
I'd spent two days hoping he'd come home. Hoping he'd tell me he loved me one last time. Hoping he'd at least try to fight for me, to argue against the treaty, to be my father instead of just a drunk who drowned in his grief.
But no. He couldn't even show up to say goodbye.
The ache in my chest had nothing to do with the tumor.
"Let's go," I said, my voice hard.
Elder Rowan led me through the village toward the forest. The crowd followed at a distance, whispering behind their hands.
"Poor thing."
"Just like her mother."
"She won't last a week."
I held my head high. Let them whisper. Let them pity me. In twenty-five days, I'd be dead anyway. At least I was dying on my own terms.
We reached the edge of Ashenhaven Forest. The trees here were ancient, their branches twisted and gnarled like arthritic fingers reaching toward the sky.
Between two of the largest trees hung something that made my breath catch.
A curtain of shimmering red light.
It pulsed like a heartbeat, hanging in the air between the tree trunks. Not quite solid, not quite liquid. It looked like someone had taken blood and turned it into silk.
"The portal," Elder Rowan said. "It only opens twice a year. Once to take the bride. Once to return her remains."
My stomach churned. "You mean if it returns her remains."
"Yes." He pulled a silver knife from his robes. "Give me your hand."
The same hand with the cut from the black rose. The wound that still hadn't stopped bleeding.
I held it out.
Elder Rowan unwrapped the bandage. The cut was deeper now, the edges black like they'd been burned. He pressed the knife against it and I bit back a scream as fresh blood welled up.
"The portal requires blood of the chosen," he explained, guiding my hand toward the red curtain. "It will take you to Valthoria. The vampire realm."
"What if I change my mind?" I whispered.
"Too late for that."
He pushed my bleeding palm against the shimmering curtain.
The world exploded.
Pain shot through my entire body like lightning. The red light wrapped around me, pulling me forward, dragging me through the veil. I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't think.
Everything spun—red and black and red and black—
My mother's face flashed through my mind. Her terror. Her final words: Run.
But there was nowhere to run now.
The spinning stopped.
I hit solid ground and gasped, sucking in air that tasted like copper and roses. My whole body shook. The cut on my palm throbbed with each heartbeat.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
And forgot how to breathe.
I stood before the most beautiful and terrifying place I'd ever seen.
A massive palace rose into the sky, all black stone and silver spires that glowed with an eerie light. The sky above was dark—not sunset dark, but eternal night dark. No sun. Just a huge moon that hung too close, too bright, bathing everything in silver light.
And the roses.
Crimson roses bloomed everywhere. In gardens that stretched as far as I could see. Climbing the palace walls. Their scent was so strong it made me dizzy.
"Get up."
I looked up. Two figures in black armor stood over me, their faces hidden behind helmets. They didn't look human. They moved wrong—too fast, too smooth.
Vampires. Real vampires.
I scrambled to my feet, my legs shaking.
"Welcome to Valthoria," one said, his voice cold as ice. "Kingdom of the night. Realm of the immortal."
The other one grabbed my arm. His grip was like iron, strong enough to bruise. "The prince is waiting."
"Wait—" I tried to pull away but he was too strong. "I need a moment. I just—"
"The prince doesn't wait for humans." He started dragging me toward the palace. "Especially not ones who'll be dead before the year ends anyway."
They knew. Of course they knew.
The palace doors swung open on their own—massive black doors carved with images of people screaming, bleeding, dying. We walked through hallways lit by torches that burned with blue flames. Every surface was either black marble or dark stone. No warmth. No color except for those crimson roses in silver vases.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.
We stopped in front of two enormous doors.
"The throne room," the guard said. "Prince Lucien Nightshade awaits his bride."
"I'm not ready," I whispered.
"Nobody ever is."
The doors opened.
Beyond them stretched a room so large I couldn't see the far end. Black pillars held up a ceiling painted with constellations that actually moved. Vampires in elegant clothes lined both sides—hundreds of them, all impossibly beautiful, all staring at me with eyes that glowed like animal eyes in the dark.
And at the far end, on a throne carved from black stone that looked like frozen shadows...
A man sat watching me.
No. Not a man. Something more. Something impossibly, devastatingly beautiful.
White-blond hair fell past his shoulders. Even from this distance, I could see his eyes—silver, glowing, pinning me in place like a butterfly on a board.
Prince Lucien Nightshade.
The guard pushed me forward. "Walk."
My legs moved even though every instinct screamed to run.
I walked down that endless room, past all those glowing eyes, toward the most beautiful and dangerous creature I'd ever seen.
The prince didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched me with those silver eyes that saw everything.
I reached the throne and stopped, my whole body shaking.
Up close, he was even more perfect. Sharp cheekbones. Full lips. Skin like marble. He looked maybe twenty-eight, but his eyes were ancient.
For a long moment, he just stared at me.
Then his expression changed.
Boredom shifted to shock. Shock to fury so intense the temperature in the room dropped.
"No." His voice was like dark honey laced with poison. Every vampire in the room went still. "Not her. Not—"
He stood abruptly, and I stumbled backward.
"Anyone but her."