"In darkness, even the stars whisper warnings."
— Ancient Feylock Seer's Record
Somewhere deep within the shadowed woods...
Wolves howled in the distance.
Caroline screamed.
Pain ripped through her chest like claws raking down her ribs. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she dropped to her knees. The future was always blurry, often terrifying—but this vision was different. Worse. More intense. She had seen death before, chaos, even war... but never this much blood. Never this much darkness.
She was a seer—one of the rarest among vampires. A gift that many considered a blessing, but for Caroline, it felt more like a curse. Her visions came like a storm: violent, uncontrollable, and always leaving destruction in their wake.
This time, her mind had plunged into a scene soaked in carnage. Bodies—werewolves, vampires, even humans—lay scattered like fallen leaves. Flames crackled in the distance. Screams echoed in her ears. The sky above was black, not with night, but with something darker—something twisted.
And in the middle of it all, she saw a light. Dim, flickering, but fighting to shine.
A man.
Born of blood, but not raised by blood. A lycan with vampire lineage—a hybrid unlike any other. He stood tall amidst the slaughter, a beacon in the chaos. But the darkness... it clawed at him, hungry to consume that last shred of hope.
Then the vision snapped.
Gasping, Caroline collapsed, her hands shaking violently as blood trickled from her mouth. Her vision had ended just as suddenly as it came, leaving behind the familiar sensation of cold dread.
"Lady Caroline!" Her trusted subordinate knelt beside her, steadying her trembling body.
"It happened again, didn't it?" he asked gently.
She nodded slowly, still too weak to speak.
"Could you see anything new this time?"
"The same as before," she croaked, wiping the blood from her lips. "Too much death... too much blood. And that man. He's important, but the shadows won't let me see him clearly."
"You can't keep pushing yourself like this," the man said, concern etched into his face. "Your body—"
"I know," she cut in, barely audible. "But we don't have time. Whatever is coming... it's almost here."
She stared into the trees, heart still racing. Somewhere out there, the pieces of this prophecy were already moving.
And she feared they were running out of time.
The Feylock mansion sat cloaked in secrecy, deep within a forgotten forest at the edge of Black Angel territory. Surrounded by towering trees twisted by age and shadow, the old estate was rumored to be haunted—though no one dared venture close enough to confirm it. Ivy coiled up stone walls like nature's chains, and the air hung heavy with enchantments meant to keep outsiders away.
Inside, the halls breathed with silence. Ancient chandeliers dangled from high ceilings, their crystals dulled by time but still catching the dim flicker of enchanted candles. The scent of aged wood, iron, and something unearthly filled the corridors. Every room was steeped in history, pain, and untold secrets. The vampires who lived within did so in the darkness, and the mansion reflected that truth—elegant in its decay, regal in its gloom.
Caroline moved through the underworld of the estate—an underground tunnel carved into the earth itself, damp with the scent of moss and old stone. As she rose the staircase toward the main house, her footsteps echoed with ancient power. The world above waited—wounded brothers, tangled fates, and a legacy still thirsty for revenge.
After recovering, she asked, "Where is Brian?"
He responded, "He isn't available."
"Tell me the truth," Caroline said, her voice sharp.
Her subordinate hesitated, then confessed in fear, "He was captured by rogues, but Bryce went to get him."
Caroline hissed angrily. "That boy never listens! He can't just keep going into the wolves' territories like it's some sport." She clenched her fists, annoyance coursing through her veins. Her brother was stubborn, reckless—traits she hadn't inherited. With a final glance, she left the underground tunnel and moved upstairs in majestic strides.
Upstairs – Feylock Manor
The dim glow of lanterns barely illuminated the gothic interior of the manor. Shadows clung to the walls like silent spectators.
Bryce was carefully cleaning the deep wound on Brian's side. "There's wolfsbane residue in the blade," he muttered, examining the bloodied cloth. "That's why it's not healing quickly."
But Brian wasn't paying attention. His mind was elsewhere—back in that filthy cellar, with her. The girl. The wolf. The mystery. There was something about her that tugged at the very core of his being.
Bryce noticed. "You've been quiet since we got back. What happened in there?"
Before Brian could answer, the doors slammed open.
"Brian Feylock!"
Caroline's voice boomed through the room, filled with fury. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of her brother—bloodied, bruised, and lost in thought—while Bryce, equally worn, looked up with a sheepish grin.
Her hazel eyes blazed as she marched forward, red curls wild and tangled, a smear of blood staining the corner of her lips from her earlier vision. "What is the meaning of this? You nearly got yourself killed!"
Brian blinked, her voice snapping him out of his daze. He looked up at her, his smile lazy and familiar. "Oh come on, sis. It's nothing. I'm fine."
"You look like death warmed over," she snapped. "And don't think I didn't see that look on your face—you weren't even here. Who was she?"
He didn't answer.
She narrowed her eyes. "You went too far this time."
Brian's smile faded as he glanced at her again, really seeing her this time. "And you've been bleeding again. You saw something, didn't you?"
Caroline turned away, jaw tight.
"I told you not to keep forcing the visions," he continued quietly. "Let the future write itself. You know what happened the last time."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Their parents. The vision. The explosion.
A family trip turned to ash—because their mother had seen it before it happened. And despite everything, it still came true.
Brian hated the gift. Hated what it took from them. Hated how it always left more questions than answers.
Brian's POV
Brian sat quietly as Caroline moved around the room, still simmering with anger, but now something darker clung to her words.
Calmly, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.
"It's haunting my dreams again. The visions... they come whether I want them or not."
Brian ran a tired hand through his hair, saying nothing.
"It wasn't on purpose," she added, more to herself than to him.
Then, her tone shifted—serious, certain. "You are the lycan wolf."
Brian stiffened.
"Oh come on," he growled, a low rumble building in his chest. "Not this prophecy crap again, Caroline. I'm really not in the mood."
His voice cracked slightly, but he masked it with frustration, clenching his fists until his knuckles whitened.
"You know what that prophecy did to us. We lost everything because of it—our peace, our home, our parents!" He slammed a hand against the wall, leaving behind a smear of blood from his half-healed wound. "I don't need some mystical destiny to get revenge. I'll do it on my own terms."
But Caroline didn't flinch.
"You don't get to run from this, Brian. Whether you accept it or not... you are him. The child born of blood, but not raised by it. A lycan with vampire blood in his veins. The vision doesn't lie."
She walked to the window, the moonlight catching her tired eyes, making her look older than her years. "And that light I keep seeing... I think it's her. The girl. The one from the cellar."
Brian looked down, his mind flashing back to the moment her eyes met his. That flicker of something ancient—something that called to him.
"She could be your mate," Caroline said softly, "and the only one who can help you bring justice for our parents. The Lockwoods abandoned the Feylocks. Left us to burn. And for that... they will pay."
Brian stood slowly and walked toward his sister. Despite all his resistance, something inside him was cracking—something deep. Something buried.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a side-hug. Her body tensed for a moment, then relaxed against him.
"They will pay," he whispered, eyes narrowing toward the horizon beyond the window. "Every single one of them."