Rain continued to fall over Darkheart.
Cold.
Endless.
The castle stood beneath storm clouds like a sleeping beast, ancient towers piercing the night while lightning occasionally illuminated the black stone walls.
But beneath that calm...
something had begun moving.
And Damian could feel it.
The Voice Beneath Stone
The corridor suddenly felt colder.
Damian stood motionless.
Lucian watched him carefully.
The prince's gaze remained fixed toward the lower foundations of the castle, beyond marble floors and ancient walls, somewhere beneath Darkheart itself.
The whisper still echoed faintly.
The moon lies.
Those words refused to leave him.
Lucian noticed the change in Damian's breathing.
His expression sharpened.
"What did it say?"
Damian remained silent.
His fingers slowly tightened around the railing beside him.
Then...
"It said the moon lies."
Silence.
Lucian's face changed.
Only slightly.
But Damian caught it.
Not fear.
Recognition.
And that annoyed him.
"You know something."
Lucian looked toward the rain.
"I know many things."
"That is not answer."
"No."
Lucian finally met his eyes.
"It rarely is."
Damian clicked his tongue.
His patience had already thinned from speaking with Fenrir.
Now this man was testing it further.
"You enjoy speaking in riddles."
"I enjoy surviving."
The answer came calmly.
Damian narrowed his eyes.
"And how are those connected?"
Lucian folded his hands behind his back.
"Because truths have killed more people than swords."
For a moment...
neither spoke.
The rain filled the silence.
Then Damian pushed himself away from the window.
"You knew my aunt."
"Yes."
"You know this voice."
Lucian hesitated.
And that hesitation alone was answer enough.
"I know of it."
Damian stepped closer.
"Then explain."
The older vampire studied him for several seconds.
And then...
"No."
The prince's eyes sharpened instantly.
"No?"
"You are not ready."
The atmosphere changed.
That sentence.
Again.
Damian felt irritation rise immediately.
His smile disappeared.
"You sound like my father."
Lucian's expression remained calm.
"That is unfortunate."
"And disappointing."
"I know."
Damian laughed quietly.
But there was no amusement behind it.
"So everyone in this castle has decided what I deserve to know."
Lucian remained silent.
The prince looked at him coldly.
"You are all afraid."
That finally earned reaction.
Lucian's gaze hardened.
"Fear is wisdom when facing old things."
"Old things?"
The man looked toward the lower foundations.
And for the first time...
his voice lowered.
"There are stories buried beneath Darkheart."
Damian crossed his arms.
"Stories do not frighten me."
"These do."
The prince watched him carefully.
Lucian was not acting.
That much Damian understood.
This man genuinely believed what he said.
And somehow...
that made Damian more curious.
Then...
footsteps.
Heavy.
Fast.
Both men turned.
An Executioner approached.
His armor still carried rainwater.
He kneeled immediately.
"My lord."
Lucian stepped back.
The guard addressed Damian.
"Prince Damian."
"What is it?"
"There is… a problem."
Damian frowned.
"Speak."
The Executioner hesitated.
And that alone made the prince pay closer attention.
"There has been disturbance near the eastern forest."
Lucian narrowed his eyes.
"What kind?"
The guard swallowed.
"Bodies."
The corridor became silent.
Damian's expression cooled.
"How many?"
"Seven."
"Werewolves?"
"No."
"Vampires?"
"No, your highness."
The guard's voice lowered.
"That is the problem."
Eastern Forest
The rain worsened as they traveled.
Damian rode at the front.
Lucian beside him.
Sirius had joined shortly after receiving word.
Behind them...
Executioners.
Silent shadows mounted upon dark horses.
No one wasted words.
The eastern forest stood beyond Darkheart territory.
A place avoided by most.
Ancient trees crowded together so tightly that moonlight barely reached the ground.
And tonight...
the forest felt wrong.
The moment Damian entered beneath the branches...
he felt it.
His wolf instincts stirred.
Not fear.
Alertness.
The horses became restless.
Even the Executioners noticed.
Sirius dismounted first.
"We continue on foot."
No one argued.
The forest floor was wet.
Leaves and mud softened footsteps.
Rain dripped from black branches above.
And then...
they smelled blood.
Damian stopped.
Fresh.
Heavy.
Too heavy.
His crimson eyes sharpened.
A few moments later...
they reached the clearing.
Silence followed.
Even Sirius froze.
The bodies lay scattered across the clearing.
Seven of them.
Not vampires.
Not wolves.
Human.
Or at least...
they had been.
Damian slowly approached.
The corpses were mutilated.
Limbs twisted unnaturally.
Skin gray.
Eyes hollow.
No blood remained.
Not spilled.
Gone.
As though something had emptied them entirely.
One Executioner muttered
"What did this…?"
Sirius crouched near a body.
His face darkened.
"These wounds…"
He touched the corpse carefully.
"No claws."
"No blades."
Damian studied the scene.
The smell disturbed him.
Rot.
And something else.
Ancient.
Then he noticed it.
Symbols.
Carved into the soil.
Circular.
Complex.
Lucian saw them too.
His expression changed immediately.
And that alone confirmed Damian's suspicion.
"You recognize them."
Lucian spoke quietly.
"…yes."
Damian looked at him.
"What are they?"
The older vampire stared at the marks.
His voice became colder.
"Not witchcraft."
Sirius stood.
"Then what?"
Lucian did not answer immediately.
Instead...
he looked toward the forest.
As though expecting something.
Then he finally spoke...
"God marks."
The clearing fell silent.
Even the rain felt quieter.
Sirius's eyes narrowed.
"That is impossible."
"I wish it were."
Damian crouched beside one symbol.
Its shape felt strangely familiar.
And the moment his fingers neared it...
pain struck.
A flash.
Darkness.
Chains.
Silver eyes.
And screaming.
Damian staggered backward.
Sirius caught his shoulder instantly.
"Damian."
The prince pushed his hand away.
"I'm fine."
But he was not.
The symbol...
he knew it.
Or part of him did.
And then...
they heard laughter.
Soft.
Somewhere deeper in the trees.
Every Executioner drew weapons instantly.
The forest became still.
The laughter came again.
Childlike.
Wrong.
Sirius stepped forward.
"Show yourself."
Silence.
Then...
a voice.
Soft.
Female.
"You came too late."
The trees shifted.
And from between shadows...
a girl emerged.
She looked young.
Perhaps sixteen.
Barefoot.
White hair.
Silver eyes.
Damian froze.
The same eyes.
The girl smiled.
Beautiful.
Unnatural.
And then she looked directly at him.
Not Sirius.
Not Lucian.
Only him.
"You hear them too."
The clearing became deadly quiet.
Sirius moved slightly before Damian.
"Who are you?"
The girl ignored him.
Rain slid across her pale skin.
Her smile widened.
And she spoke again
to Damian alone.
"The chained one is waking."
Lucian's face darkened instantly.
"Impossible"
The girl finally looked at him.
And laughed.
"You still hide behind fear, Lucian."
His expression hardened.
"You know me?"
Her silver eyes glimmered.
"I know what you buried."
The air changed.
Cold.
Heavy.
Executioners tightened their grip on weapons.
Then the girl looked back toward Damian.
And softly said
"Your mother lied to protect you."
Those words struck harder than any blade.
Damian's eyes narrowed.
Before he could speak...
the girl raised one pale hand.
And the god marks on the ground...
began glowing.
Crimson.
The forest trembled.
And beneath their feet...
something moved.