the Vampire King,

The flickering candlelight of the Obsidian Throne room cast long, dancing shadows against the walls. Lord Alaric, the Vampire King, sat motionless, his crimson eyes fixed on the small, pale girl resting against his knee. ​For three hundred years, Alaric had been a storm of grief. When his Queen, Elara, was taken by the Purge, he had burned half the continent in his rage. Now, all that remained of that fire was his daughter, Luna—and a hollow ache in his chest that no amount of power could fill. ​The Unfamiliar Guest ​The heavy iron doors creaked open. A woman was led in by the royal guards. She wasn't a noble, nor a vampire. She was a human traveler caught trespassing in the Forbidden Woods. ​Alaric didn't look up. "Execute her," he murmured, his voice like grinding stone. "I have no patience for thieves." ​"I wasn't stealing," you said, your voice steady despite the predators surrounding you. "I was following the song." ​Alaric froze. He finally turned his gaze toward you, and the air in the room turned frigid. It wasn't just your face—though you bore a haunting resemblance to the fallen Queen—it was the way you stood. You held your wrist in a specific, nervous habit Elara used to have when she was defiant.