Twenty-five years to the present day.
The vampire region of the world laid in riches. Long and elegant structures with beautiful architecture towered the whole region, a stark contrast to the regions of other creatures.
It was beautiful. Its beauty was not like the soft kind of beauty that brought comfort, but the sharp, deliberate kind that reminds you, at every turn, that power and authority lives there.
The buildings rose higher than anything most species had ever seen, their walls polished until they reflected light like glass. The streets were wide and clean, lined with expensive black stones that does not crack, no matter how many years passed over it. Everything had been designed with intention, and that intention was obvious.
It was meant to impress and intimidate. And truth be told, the buildings and structures were built as a form of superiority and authority.
It was meant to remind everyone who walked beneath those towering structures exactly who ruled the world.
And yet, beneath all that perfection, the system that kept it running was far less beautiful.
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In one part of those beautifully laid out structures, the building of the Luminai accord, Servants were seen. They moved quietly with haste through the halls of the building. Some servants wore uniforms while few wore chains marking them as servants to owners who bought them.
Humans, witches and shadeborns were all part of the machinery that kept the Luminai Accord functioning.
They worked because they had no choice and choosing not to work means disregarding the pureblood vampires which for sure came with consequences none of then were willing to face again.
Isolde Ravenshade had learned that lesson a long time ago. She had seen her mother die in her front while resisting the cruel authority of the pureblood vampires. Her mother was beaten brutally to death.
Isolde moved carefully along the corridor, her steps quiet against the polished floor, her hands wrapped around a cloth that was wrinkled and look liked it has been in existence since the great dystopia. The scent of cleaning solution clung to her fingers, the scent really sharp to the organ of smell.
She paused near a tall window, glancing briefly at her reflection and swirled admiring herself.
Her raven dark hair pulled back too tightly.
Her eyes that looked older than they should have. She noticed the dark circles around her eyes. "Why can't I ever be beautiful like those pale vampires", she mumbled to herself. Displeasure and disappointment written on face about her appearance. "I wish and hope duly that any one of the vampires would notice me and asked me to be their bride so that I will upgrade my status of being a witch to a vampire's wife even if I am his fifteenth wife", she said talking to herself again.
Then she knelt down dramatically clutching her palms together, "Oracle grant me my desires even once", she said loudly.
A soft laugh came from behind her.
"You say that every morning," Maria said, stepping into the corridor with a bucket in one hand and a cloth slung over her shoulder.
Isolde turned slightly, one brow lifting.
"And every morning, I'm right," she replied. "Don't you think we deserve some sort of recognition." "We have working here for twenty years since childhood, at least we deserved to be recognized as the most hardworking workers".
Maria snorted as she set the bucket down beside her.
"That's for you," she said. "For me, being forgiven for any slight mistake is rewarding enough for me", she said again
Isolde gave a quiet hum, as though considering her response.
"That is true," she said. "But I don't consider that as a reward; marrying a vampire or even being his slut is enough for me", she said again standing on her ground.
Maria laughed properly at that, the sound quick and light before she quickly lowered her voice again.
"Careful," she said. "If anyone hears you, they you might be murdered tomorrow with the charges of spilling nonsense about the superior species", she said emphasizing the phrase superior species with sarcasm.
Isolde let out a soft breath, shaking her head as she returned to her task.
"I prefer scrubbing floors for the rest of my life and being quiet than being murdered for every girl's wish," she said.
Maria leaned against the wall, watching her for a moment.
"You were assigned this section today?" she asked changing the topic of their conversation.
Isolde nodded toward the far end of the corridor.
"Everything from here to the archive wing," she said. "You know how these pureblood vampires values cleanliness".
Maria followed her gaze, her expression shifting slightly.
"The archive wing?" she repeated. "They usually do not assign us there."
"Yes," Isolde said dryly. "I noticed that as well. I am trying not to feel special about it."
Maria hesitated.
"Just be careful," she said quietly. "That place is… different."
Isolde glanced at her again, curiosity flickering briefly in her eyes.
"Different how?" she asked.
Maria opened her mouth, then paused, as though reconsidering her words.
"Just… do not touch anything you are not supposed to," she said finally.
Isolde stared at her for a moment.
"That is very reassuring," she said. "Truly. I feel safer already."
Maria rolled her eyes.
"You know what I mean."
"Yes," Isolde said with a faint smile. "I do. You are telling me not to die."
"Exactly cause here smells a little bit like death." Maria said.
"Well," Isolde said, picking up her cloth again, "I will do my best to disappoint you."
Maria shook her head, but there was a small smile on her face as she stepped back.
"I need to finish my side before the next inspection," she said. "Try not to cause trouble."
Isolde let out a soft huff.
"I have never caused trouble," she said with a small smirk tugging at lip hinting a little her troublesome nature
Maria gave her a look.
"Your existence alone is troublesome," she replied. "That is usually enough."
With that, she turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Isolde chuckled inwardly and watched her go, then turned back to her work.
For a while, everything remained normal.
The quiet scrape of cloth and brush against the tiles.
The sounds of footsteps of echoing in the hallways.
The low murmur of voices somewhere deeper within the building.
Then, slowly, something shifted.
Voices grew louder.
Boots approached.
Isolde glanced up just as a group of guards moved past the far end of the corridor.
"…told you, it is just a rotation," one of them was saying.
"Yes, but the timing—"
"The timing is always inconvenient," another interrupted. "That is the point."
A few of them laughed.
Isolde lowered her gaze again, pretending not to listen.
"…next shift is already on their way," someone added. "We have a few minutes."
"Good," another said. "I need to sit before my legs collapses."
Their voices faded as they moved further away.
Isolde remained still for a moment.
Then she slowly looked up.
The corridor had gone quiet. It had gone to quiet almost eerie.
Her eyes drifted toward the end of the hall toward the archive wing.
She frowned slightly. "This is… not normal," she murmured.
Curiosity was not something she encouraged in herself.
It had never been safe or wise.
But it had always been there in her: quiet, persistent and dangerous.
She wiped her hands slowly against the cloth, her gaze still fixed ahead.
"They just told me not touch anything. They never said not to look," she muttered to justify what she was about to do.
She initially hesitated. Then she started walking towards the archives.
"I will just take a peek and then return back to my chores", she kept telling herself.
Each step felt louder than it should have, even though she moved carefully. The air seemed different the closer she got, heavier somehow.
When she reached the doors of the Royal Archive, she stopped.
They were open slightly piquing her curiosity the more
Her breath caught slightly.
"That is definitely not normal," she whispered.
She glanced behind her.
The corridor remained empty. There were no footsteps in the hallways, no signs of guards approaching for their next shifts.
Just silence and the winds echoing through the hallways.
Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and pushed the door further open.
Inside, the archive stretched out before her, filled with rows upon rows of shelves, each lined with records, scrolls, and books that carried the history of the world—at least, the version of history the vampires allowed to remain.
Isolde stepped inside.
Her eyes moved over everything, taking in details she knew she should not be seeing.
"So, this is where all the secrets of the vampires are kept," she murmured "No wondered it was guarded tightly".
She took another step, then another, and there she saw it. A second "hidden" door inside the archives and it was open again.
Her stomach tightened. "This is a very terrible idea" she said softly. "I should head back" she said to herself, but curiosity had the best of her.
She looked at it anyway her eyes roaming around the shelves as if trying to imprint the memory in her brain.
She approached slowly the second hidden door, her heartbeat beginning to quicken.
"If I die," she muttered under her breath, "I am haunting Maria first."
Then, she pushed the hidden door open.
The space beyond was smaller. It was very quiet and small. And before she could fully take in what she was seeing. Something fell at her feet. Then, she froze debating if she should bolt out of there and act like she saw nothing. She looked closely at it and saw it was a scroll.
For a long moment, she simply stared at it.
Then she looked up. There were still no movements and no footsteps in the hallways.
Her heart began to race.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no… this is not happening." She took a step back.
"This is a setup, a trap to kill me because of words," she said quickly, her voice low and urgent remembering what she uttered to Maria earlier. "This is definitely a setup."
Her eyes darted toward the entrance.
"If I run now, I might still—". She stopped.
She stopped.
The scroll lay still on the ground as if it was waiting for her to open it
Her breathing slowed slightly. "…or I could just leave it," she murmured.
She still did not move. Seconds passing and time sailing away.
Then, slowly, she crouched down. "Just a look," she said. "Just one look, and then I leave, and this never happened."
Her fingers hovered over the scroll.
Then she picked it up. It felt… warm. She swallowed.
"Okay, this is really weird," she whispered. Then, carefully, she opened it.
Her eyes moved rapidly across the words. And then she began to read.
"When the crimson moon rises beneath a fractured sky…"
Her voice was barely above a breath.
"Neither wholly light, nor bound to shadow…"
Her brow furrowed.
"They will walk between what was and what was never meant to be…"
She stilled.
Her heartbeat grew louder in her ears.
"The ancient powers shall waver… the strong shall weaken, and the forgotten shall remember…"
Her fingers tightened slightly around the scroll.
"This is not…" she whispered.
This was not what she had been told.
This was not the prophecy she knew.
"Marked by silence, yet heard by all…" she continued softly, her voice trembling now, "feared by those who rule, and sought by those who kneel…" Her chest tightened.
"The child of the crimson hour will stand where fate unravels…"
She shook her head slightly.
"No… no, that is not right…"
She continued reading despite the gravity of the sentences in the scroll.
"To the one true king, their soul shall be bound…" Her breath caught.
"Not by choice, nor by crown…" Her voice softened.
"But by something older than both…"
Silence settled around her.
"Half of what they are will be seen…" Her lips barely moved.
"And the other half… immeasurable…" She stopped.
The final lines blurred for a moment.
"Should they rise, the world may be remade…" Her grip tightened.
"Should they fall, the world may finally break…" Her heart pounded.
"When the crimson moon fades…" Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Some destinies are not meant to be survived…"
The room felt colder. Isolde stared at the scroll. Her thoughts raced.
"This is wrong," she said softly. "This is completely wrong."
This was not the prophecy passed down. This was not the warning she had grown up hearing. This was something else. It was entirely different. It was something hidden and dangerous.
At that instant, her head snapped up. She realized the doors, the guards and the silence. Something was definitely wrong.
Her chest tightened. "I am going to die," she whispered.
And for the first time since she had entered, she truly believed it.