The Emperor's obsession

The grand carriages of Vayrana rolled to a halt beneath the towering blackened arches of the Imperial Palace of Thorns. Moonlight filtered through the trimmed hedges and trees with thorn-covered trunks, their silvered bark glinting like metal under the glow. The polished crystal pathway sparkled beneath the wheels, lined with statues of ancient vampire kings and queens, each one carved in luminous obsidian. The scent of night jasmine mingled with something darker—spiced incense, iron, and smoke, the unmistakable aura of vampire dominion.

Elarynth was the first to step down, her eyes wide with awe as she took in the imperial grandeur that surrounded her. The palace was nothing like the terrifying depictions in bedtime tales. It was majestic, its white marble towers gilded with pure gold, its glass windows catching the moonlight like captured stars. Cascading water features adorned with glowing lilies lined the palace entrance, and above, dragons sculpted from sapphire stone wound around pillars that kissed the clouds.

Behind her, Serenya lingered. An invisible weight sat in her chest, tightening her breath. There was no sound but the gentle splash of fountains and the soft crackling of floating lanterns—and yet, she felt watched. As if the palace itself was alive, aware, and waiting.

From another carriage, Thirena and Nearya descended in unison, their postures poised but eyes sharp. Even the palace guards, adorned in silver-and-crimson armor, gave them cautious glances.

A thunderous sound broke the quiet elegance—a majestic stallion trotting through the inner gates, its coat dark as shadows, eyes glowing ember-red. Its rider dismounted with the grace of a blade unsheathed. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with tousled dirty blonde hair and eyes the color of fresh blood.

"King Rajna," the man said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I am Cassian, the Emperor's right hand. Welcome to the Palace of Thorns."

King Rajna inclined his head slightly in response.

Cassian continued, "Please allow me to escort you to your residence."

Serenya glanced up as Cassian turned. He was handsome—unreasonably so. Not with mortal beauty, but something otherworldly. She immediately dropped her gaze, remembering her father's words: Do not cause unnecessary attention always keep your eyes down.

Beside her, Elarynth leaned closer to Naerya, whispering, "Nobody told us vampires were this handsome. That one looks like he stepped out of a painting."

Naerya nodded slightly, equally stunned. Their childhood nightmares hadn't prepared them for this kind of allure.

Cassian led the royal family down the main corridor, where massive chandeliers sparkled overhead—each crystal a polished blood ruby. The floors gleamed like mirrors, and elegant tapestries told tales of vampire lore in golden embroidery. Trees with blooming thorns lined the inner courtyard, their roots coiled around glowing fountains and magical stones.

They finally reached a grand hallway guarded by silent sentinels with glowing eyes.

"Your quarters," Cassian said with a respectful bow. "The Emperor will summon you when the time is right. Until then, please rest."

He turned and walked away, his cape whispering against the polished floor.

Queen Ishara turned swiftly to her daughters. "Remember what your father told you. The veils stay on. The anklets do not come off. Thirena—stay out of trouble."

The princesses nodded and were led away by quiet maids, dressed in flowing silks and adorned with masks of gold.

Far deeper within the palace grounds stood the Emperor's castle—a marvel of wealth and refined terror. Unlike the guest halls, it radiated luxury. Walls were adorned with gold-inlaid panels, soft velvet drapes billowed with magic-induced breeze, and the floors were black marble flecked with diamond dust.

Cassian entered the Emperor's private chamber.

A woman reclined on an opulent, wine-red couch of imported velvet, her breath catching as the man beside her pressed a slow kiss against her neck. His black robe had slipped, revealing a sculpted torso .

"Your Imperial Majesty," Cassian said, bowing.

Zareth lifted his head lazily, crimson eyes half-lidded, fangs stained with blood. He ran his tongue slowly across his lips before waving the woman off.

"Leave."

The woman obeyed without hesitation.

Zareth stood, and in the golden light of the enchanted chandeliers, he was breathtaking. Every motion exuded confidence. His raven hair was tousled, and his smirk held the arrogance of someone who ruled without question. He was silk and steel—beautiful, brutal, and all-consuming.

"How many kingdoms so far?" he asked, brushing a hand through his hair as he strode to a crystal decanter.

"Twenty-one, Your Majesty," Cassian answered.

Zareth poured two glasses of vintage vampire wine—a thick, dark red blend said to enhance power and heighten desire. He handed one to Cassian, eyes glittering.

"Are you really going through with this bride selection?" Cassian asked, brow arched.

Zareth chuckled. It was a sound that curled at the edges of reality.

"Pick a bride? What do I look like—a desperate king with nothing better to do?" He sipped his wine. "No. This entire charade is a delicious little distraction. Enough to keep curious eyes busy while I finish what truly matters."

"And your cousin?"

Zareth's smirk widened into something dangerous.

"He'll walk right into the fire, and I'll be there when he burns."

Cassian bowed slightly, understanding. Zareth was not a ruler who played fair. He played to win.

Back in her chamber, Serenya was unfastening the last of her dress, Zelda's gentle fingers working at the laces.

"He didn't look like a monster," Serenya whispered.

Zelda paused, head lowered. " I'm sorry you highness ."

Serenya gave a tired smile. "I just want this ridiculous ceremony to be over so we can go home."

Zelda didn't respond. She simply bowed.

Because the truth hung in the air like a prophecy: Serenya would never see Vayrana again.