Eira didn't realize how long they had walked until her legs began to ache. The garden paths twisted and wove in mesmerizing patterns—stone walkways scattered with glowing moss and surrounded by eerie, otherworldly flora. The leaves shimmered with blue and violet hues, and some even whispered as the wind passed.
Lucien had remained silent beside her, his expression unreadable, but his presence was undeniably heavy. Like the gravity around him bent reality ever so slightly. He was tall—taller than she remembered from the throne room. His long stride matched his elegance, and his crimson cloak moved like a living thing behind him.
Finally, he paused near a silver tree with thorny branches curling skyward like claws.
"This tree is called Volira. It only blooms under the moonlight and drinks magic instead of water," he said, almost gently. "Much like our kind."
Eira stared at it, unsure how to respond. "Are you trying to impress me with vampire botany?"
Lucien's lips quirked. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I hoped a glimpse of our world might ease your fear."
Eira gave a dry laugh. "Oh, I'm way past fear. I've hit the part where you think maybe you've gone insane and just have to ride it out."
His gaze slid to her, and she felt the full weight of his ancient eyes. "You are not insane, Eira. You are changing. That is often the most painful part."
She swallowed hard, the words sticking in her throat. "Why me?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he raised a hand, and from the shadows behind the tree, a ripple of magic unfurled like silk. A glowing pool of water revealed itself, reflecting the sky in perfect clarity.
Lucien motioned toward it. "Come."
Warily, Eira stepped closer, peering down. But the surface didn't show her reflection. Instead, it shimmered and shifted, and then—
A different version of herself appeared. Dressed in ancient robes of silver and blue, standing at Lucien's side in a throne room far older than the one she'd stood in earlier. Her hair was longer. Her eyes… glowed with power. And Lucien looked the same—unchanged, timeless—except in this vision, he was smiling.
Truly smiling.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"The past," Lucien said. "A glimpse of a former life."
Her breath caught.
"You were once known as Elira, high priestess of the Moonlight Covenant. You sealed the First Binding between our kind and the gods above. And… you were my wife."
Eira stumbled back, heart pounding. "That's impossible."
"Reincarnation rarely obeys logic," he replied. "But your soul bears the same mark, the same aura. I would know it anywhere."
The vision faded, and the pool returned to stillness.
"I don't remember any of it," she whispered.
"You will," Lucien said softly. "In time."
The wind picked up, rustling the trees, carrying whispers Eira couldn't understand. She turned from the pool, feeling like the ground beneath her had shifted entirely.
"So what now?" she asked. "Do I just… pretend to be some ancient priestess and marry you?"
Lucien's jaw tensed. "You are not a pawn. I will not force you."
"But your court will."
He didn't deny it.
"There are those who believe your presence threatens our stability," he said. "Lady Seraphine, Ravien… others who fear change. You must be careful whom you trust."
Eira folded her arms. "Great. Political intrigue on top of reincarnation. Just what I needed."
Lucien allowed the ghost of a smile. "You're handling it better than most mortals would."
"Yeah, well, I had a rough life. Turns out dying gives you perspective."
His expression turned somber. "I wish your path had been easier. You deserved more."
The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.
Before she could reply, a loud chime echoed through the air. A bell, deep and ancient, reverberated across the garden.
Lucien straightened. "Trouble."
They returned to the castle quickly, shadows stretching as the torches flared to life. Inside, the halls were tense—guards posted at every corner, servants hurrying with grim faces.
Mira met them at the entrance to the throne room, breathless. "Your Majesty. Lady Seraphine has summoned the Inner Circle. She says a threat approaches the western border."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "What kind of threat?"
"She wouldn't say. Only that it's urgent."
He looked at Eira. "Come with me."
They entered the throne room again, now filled with vampires of every rank. Nobles in elegant robes, soldiers in dark leather, and figures cloaked in shadows that seemed more spirit than flesh.
Lady Seraphine stood at the center, radiant and cold. She turned as Lucien entered. "Ah, your Majesty. We were just discussing the border's… complications."
Lucien's voice was sharp. "Speak plainly."
Seraphine smiled. "A human army is advancing toward the Night's Edge."
A ripple of shock moved through the room.
Eira blinked. "Wait—humans? Like me?"
Seraphine's eyes flicked to her. "Not like you, darling. These are zealots. Vampire hunters. They've allied with rogue mages."
Ravien stepped forward, arms crossed. "They claim to seek the 'Bride of the Beast.' It seems your arrival has stirred more than prophecy."
Eira felt every eye turn toward her.
Lucien's expression was unreadable. "We will fortify the border. I will ride with the Night Guard."
"Alone?" Seraphine said, arching a brow. "You would leave the court vulnerable?"
Lucien's gaze swept across the room. "We do not cower behind walls. Not when our people are threatened."
"And what of the girl?" Ravien asked coldly. "Will you bring her to war?"
Eira opened her mouth to protest, but Lucien spoke first.
"She remains here, under my seal. Protected."
Seraphine smirked. "A fragile treasure, locked in a tower. How romantic."
Lucien's eyes flared. "Enough."
The court fell into a heavy silence.
He turned to Eira, his voice low. "You'll be safe here. Mira will stay at your side. I won't be long."
Eira didn't like it. Everything was moving too fast. "And what if they come for me while you're gone?"
Lucien stepped closer, his presence like a storm. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face—so gently, it startled her.
"They won't touch you," he said. "Not while I still draw breath."
Her heart betrayed her, beating faster.
He turned, his cloak flaring behind him, and strode from the chamber.
As the doors closed, Eira stood among strangers and whispered threats, her blood humming with magic she didn't understand—and a past she didn't yet remember.
But something in her bones whispered:
This was only the beginning.