Whispers in the Blood

The city was still wrapped in darkness.

Elena sat at the edge of her bed, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror across the room.

But it wasn’t the same.

The gold in her eyes—subtle, flickering like candlelight—hadn’t been there before.

Or had it?

She felt haunted by the vision from her dream. The vast golden hall, the stranger’s voice, the overwhelming feeling of knowing something she had never learned.

And most of all…

That name.

Seraith.

She whispered it under her breath, and the air seemed to shift.

Something inside her stirred—something ancient.

A shudder ran down her spine.

She got up slowly, moving towards the mirror. The soft moonlight through the window illuminated her features, casting sharp shadows on her face.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, standing in her underwear.

She turned her arm under the light, tracing her fingers over her collarbone, down her forearm…

Then she froze.

On her wrist, beneath the thin veins, was a scar.

A symbol.

Her heart stopped for a second.

It was faint, barely visible unless she looked closely. A thin, curved shape—almost like an inscription.

She ran her fingertip over it, and an unexpected warmth spread through her body.

Memories flashed—images of people she didn’t recognize, voices she had never heard, places she had never been to.

Yet…

She knew them.

Her breath became uneven. “What the hell…”

A sharp knock at the door made her flinch.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

It was late—too late for visitors.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if it was the whispers again—if they had found a way to become something more than just voices in her head.

She pulled on a T-shirt quickly and walked toward the door, her body tensed with unease.

She unlocked it.

When she opened it, Alexander stood there.

But he wasn’t alone.

The Shadow in the Doorway

The man beside him had an aura of danger.

Tall, with dark hair and storm-gray eyes, he leaned against the doorway with an amused expression.

Lucian.

The vampire who had broken into her home.

Her stomach twisted into a knot.

Alexander sighed. “Elena—”

“What the hell is he doing here?” she demanded.

Lucian smirked. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Again?” She clenched her fists. “You broke into my place and tried to—”

“Warn you.”

Her blood boiled. “That’s not what it looked like.”

Alexander cut in, voice firm. “We don’t have time for this.”

Elena shot him a look. “And yet you had time to bring him?”

Alexander exhaled, clearly bracing himself. “Because he’s the only one who can tell you the truth.”

Lucian stepped forward, crossing the threshold before she could protest. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud, thick with something unreadable.

Her body tensed instinctively.

She didn’t trust him.

But she wanted answers.

The city was still wrapped in darkness.

Elena sat at the edge of her bed, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror across the room.

But it wasn’t the same.

The gold in her eyes—subtle, flickering like candlelight—hadn’t been there before.

Or had it?

She felt haunted by the vision from her dream. The vast golden hall, the stranger’s voice, the overwhelming feeling of knowing something she had never learned.

And most of all…

That name.

Seraith.

She whispered it under her breath, and the air seemed to shift.

Something inside her stirred—something ancient.

A shudder ran down her spine.

She got up slowly, moving towards the mirror. The soft moonlight through the window illuminated her features, casting sharp shadows on her face.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, standing in her underwear.

She turned her arm under the light, tracing her fingers over her collarbone, down her forearm…

Then she froze.

On her wrist, beneath the thin veins, was a scar.

A symbol.

Her heart stopped for a second.

It was faint, barely visible unless she looked closely. A thin, curved shape—almost like an inscription.

She ran her fingertip over it, and an unexpected warmth spread through her body.

Memories flashed—images of people she didn’t recognize, voices she had never heard, places she had never been to.

Yet…

She knew them.

Her breath became uneven. “What the hell…”

A sharp knock at the door made her flinch.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

It was late—too late for visitors.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if it was the whispers again—if they had found a way to become something more than just voices in her head.

She pulled on a T-shirt quickly and walked toward the door, her body tensed with unease.

She unlocked it.

When she opened it, Alexander stood there.

But he wasn’t alone.

The Shadow in the Doorway

The man beside him had an aura of danger.

Tall, with dark hair and storm-gray eyes, he leaned against the doorway with an amused expression.

Lucian.

The vampire who had broken into her home.

Her stomach twisted into a knot.

Alexander sighed. “Elena—”

“What the hell is he doing here?” she demanded.

Lucian smirked. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Again?” She clenched her fists. “You broke into my place and tried to—”

“Warn you.”

Her blood boiled. “That’s not what it looked like.”

Alexander cut in, voice firm. “We don’t have time for this.”

Elena shot him a look. “And yet you had time to bring him?”

Alexander exhaled, clearly bracing himself. “Because he’s the only one who can tell you the truth.”

Lucian stepped forward, crossing the threshold before she could protest. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud, thick with something unreadable.

Her body tensed instinctively.

She didn’t trust him.

But she wanted answers.

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