The Emperor's obsession

The sound of hooves pounded like war drums upon the earthen roads as the royal procession surged ahead, cloaked in urgency and dread. Dust rose like fog in their wake, trailing behind the swift carriages draped in silk and crested with the insignia of Vayrana—a golden lotus entwined with twin swords. Inside each carriage, silence reigned, a hush birthed not from comfort, but the haunting sense of inevitability. They were heading into the lands of the immortal. The lands ruled by the blood-bound Emperor.

Prince Kael had long returned to his own kingdom, and the void his presence left behind in Serenya's heart grew with each passing mile. Though her face remained hidden beneath the translucent black veil, her eyes told the story her lips could not. Longing, uncertainty, and an unspoken dread shimmered in her gaze as she clutched the velvet interior of the carriage.

The journey remained unbroken until they arrived at the third kingdom—Theravorn, known for its snow-capped mountains and lavender fields that whispered with winds as cold as its politics. The Theravorn Palace was a majestic fortress carved into stone, flanked by towers and arched windows that bore stained glass depictions of ancient victories.

King Rajna signaled for a rest. As their carriages rolled into the palace courtyard, the royal family of Theravorn welcomed them with a blend of reserved grace and veiled tension. The Vayrana royals were quickly ushered inside, their boots echoing against cold marble floors. Attendants scurried with trays of perfumed oils, warm wine, and fresh garments.

Serenya's room was a lavish chamber adorned in silver and periwinkle blue—a stark contrast to the muted shadows haunting her heart. As Zelda helped her out of her outer cloak and loosened the clasps of her travel gown, a gentle knock came at the door. Serenya turned, and her breath caught.

"Your Majesty," she murmured, standing quickly as King Rajna entered.

He raised a hand and smiled fondly. "Father. Call me that when we are alone, little lotus."

She giggled softly, her posture relaxing.

"I didn't get to ask how you felt about Kael," he said, stepping further in. The afternoon light filtering through the lattice windows bathed his royal garments in a golden hue. "If you're uncertain, I can end the betrothal. No union is worth your misery."

Serenya's heart swelled at the warmth of his voice, the comfort of being seen. "I like him, Father. He's a gentleman—kind, and respectful."

He pinched her cheek gently, pride gleaming in his eyes. "Stay with your sisters. Don't wander, and keep your anklet visible at all times."

She nodded solemnly. The warning rang louder now than ever.

Elsewhere in the palace, Princess Thirena fumbled with a pouch of hidden perfumes, tucking them swiftly into her embroidered satchel when footsteps echoed outside her chamber. She barely had time to compose herself when the door creaked open, revealing King Rajna.

"Father," she said, curtsying low.

His sharp gaze swept the disorganized room. "unpacking?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"Yes," she replied too quickly.

He said nothing, only held out a delicate silver anklet inlaid with obsidian stones.

"Put this on. Do not remove it."

Thirena nodded and accepted the anklet. "Yes, Father."

He lingered a moment longer, the weight of unspoken concern shadowing his eyes before he turned away.

By dusk, the royal family of Vayrana broke bread with the house of Theravorn. The long dining hall echoed with clinking goblets and the distant hum of harps, though no mirth filled the air. Every smile was strained. Every toast hollow.

As twilight kissed the earth, they resumed their journey. The carriages gleamed like obsidian beetles under the moonlight, and the flags of Vayrana flapped with ghostly grace. Inside her carriage, Serenya now sat across from Princess Elarynth. Shadows danced along the velvet curtains as they rocked gently with the motion.

"I hear there will be other princes from every kingdom," Elarynth whispered, adjusting a gold hairpin through her dyed chestnut curls. "I wonder if any of them rival Kael."

Serenya blinked, surprised. "You're bethrothed to Prince Nevim of Dherani."

Elarynth huffed. "And? I deserve more than some diplomatic match. I want someone breathtaking—a man like Kael or more so."

Serenya said nothing. She knew Elarynth's vanity ran deeper than her painted lips and embroidered gowns, but it still stung to hear her sister speak so boldly.

Moments later, a call rang from outside.

"We've entered Nytheris!"

The carriage jolted slightly as it passed through the final stone outpost. Serenya leaned toward the window, lifting the sheer edge of the curtains, the fabric brushing against her cheek like a ghost's whisper.

And then… she saw it.

Nytheris.

It unfolded before her like a dream painted in gold leaf and shadow. The capital city was nothing like the horrific tales whispered behind closed doors. Instead of monstrous wastelands or cursed ruins, there was breathtaking grandeur.

Tall, regal buildings lined the clean black-stone roads, their towering spires carved from polished obsidian and dark gray marble, kissed by the evening sun which painted the rooftops in tones of rose and amber. The architecture was unlike anything she had ever seen—ornate yet severe, imperial yet artistic. Balconies with twisted iron railings curled like vines. Gargoyle-like sculptures clung to corners—not grotesque, but solemn, as though watching silently over the city they guarded.

Lanterns—real fire lanterns—hung from curved golden hooks along the roadside. They burned with a steady orange glow, their flames housed in beveled glass, casting long golden lines across the pavement. The air was warm and clean, scented faintly with sandalwood and something sweetly metallic that she couldn't place. Not blood. Something older, more ancient.

Crowds had gathered on either side of the grand avenue, held back by lines of guards. The people of Nytheris wore long robes in muted jewel tones—deep sapphire, garnet, and emerald. Every detail of their clothing gleamed under the firelight, threaded with silver embroidery and elegant, traditional motifs she didn't recognize.

But what struck her most were the eyes of some among them .

Crimson.

Red like the last streak of twilight before nightfall.

They were… beautiful.

Startlingly human. The vampires of Nytheris did not resemble the horned beasts or blood-soaked monsters the kingdom stories claimed. Their faces were elegant and ageless, some pale, some bronzed, others dusky with golden undertones. They were men and women alike, striking in ways that were difficult to explain—like artwork brought to life. Some wore decorative masks, others let their faces show proudly. Their red eyes shimmered faintly beneath the firelit sky, watching—always watching.

No one smiled. No one waved. But there was no anger either. Just… an intense quiet. A reverent silence as if the very arrival of Vayrana's royal family was a sacred ritual.

Elarynth shifted beside her and drew in a slow, shaky breath.

"They look just like us , nothing like the stories say…" she whispered. "Flawless. But cold."

Serenya didn't respond. She couldn't.

Her breath caught in her throat as the carriage rolled through the wide boulevard, passing under a soaring archway where winged figures had been carved into the stone—guardians or watchers, it was unclear. Everything was too perfect, too still. Even the flowers scattered at the feet of their carriages were arranged with unnatural symmetry, like an offering.

The deeper they moved into the heart of Nytheris, the more magnificent the city became.

Golden domes gleamed against the twilight, fountains flowed with crystal water that sparkled in the dusk, and ivy hung down in elegant waves from balcony railings. The city was alive—but quiet. Serenya had never seen such harmony in color, sound, and movement. Even the horses' hooves felt muffled on the smooth, obsidian-paved road, as if Nytheris itself swallowed noise.

But beneath the beauty, something unspoken hummed.

An eerie stillness.

A quiet too perfect to be natural.

Serenya's fingers tightened around the edge of the window.

They were here.

In the land of vampires.

As they passed under the looming archway into the heart of Nytheris, bells began to toll.

Dark, hollow, resounding.

The welcoming had begun.

And so had the hunt.