The Door Below

The floorboards trembled.

Not like a storm. Not like thunder.

This was alive.

Alya’s breath caught as the groaning sound rose again—ancient, deliberate. Like something beneath the mansion had heard them.

Lucien was already moving.

“Stay close,” he snapped, grabbing her wrist and yanking her toward the hallway.

Alya didn’t argue.

The hallway stretched unnaturally long now, the shadows crawling along the walls like they had claws. The air was colder. Denser. Each step felt like it pulled her deeper into something not meant for the living.

“I thought the wraith was the worst part,” she muttered.

Lucien didn’t look back. “That wasn’t the worst. That was the warning.”

They stopped at a narrow stone stairwell hidden behind a tapestry. Alya hadn't even noticed it before.

Lucien stared at it like it was poison. “It was sealed. She sealed it.”

“She? My grandmother?”

His silence was answer enough.

He pressed a hand to the stone. A pulse surged from the ring on Alya’s finger—warm this time. Eager.

The stones slid open.

Beneath them, the staircase spiraled down into darkness.

“You’re not going to like what’s down there,” Lucien said quietly.

“I haven’t liked any of this,” Alya said, and pushed past him into the dark.

The descent felt endless.

Walls flickered with faded carvings—runic symbols matching the ones on her ring. The further they went, the more her skin prickled.

They weren’t alone down here.

Not ghosts. Not wraiths.

Memories.

The stone whispered to her. Names she’d never heard, faces she didn’t know—but somehow recognized. The Bloodbound before her. The cursed line she now wore on her finger.

At the bottom, a massive chamber yawned open, its heart glowing faintly red.

And in the center?

A coffin.

Carved from obsidian.

Wrapped in chains.

Alya froze. “Is that…?”

Lucien’s voice was low. Dreadful.

“That’s what’s been calling to you.”

The air shifted.

The coffin breathed.

And then—it opened.

From within, pale fingers curled around the edge.

Eyes—brighter than flame—snapped open.

And the figure inside smiled.

“Hello, my Queen,” he said.

~~~~~

The man—or what looked like a man—rose from the obsidian coffin like a nightmare made flesh.

He was beautiful.

Not the kind of beautiful that felt safe. No. This beauty was designed to destroy. Hair dark as spilled ink, skin pale as ash, and those eyes—those damned eyes—burned a red so deep they felt like a wound in the air.

Lucien stepped in front of Alya immediately. His sword, summoned from thin air, gleamed with runes and menace.

The stranger only chuckled. “Relax, Warden. If I wanted her dead, she’d never have found me.”

“Stay behind me,” Lucien growled at Alya.

But Alya… didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

The man’s voice had wrapped around her thoughts, pulling something up—something buried deep. Not a memory. A connection.

“I know you,” she whispered.

He smiled again. This time, there was sadness in it.

“You knew me. Once. Before the world turned to dust.”

Lucien hissed between his teeth. “He’s lying. Don’t listen.”

“Your blood remembers,” the man said, ignoring Lucien completely. He stepped closer to Alya—slow, graceful, unchained now. “You wore this ring once before, my queen. And you died wearing it. I held your body as the sun devoured our kingdom.”

Alya’s throat tightened. “You’re saying I—”

“Reincarnation,” the man said softly. “You were my queen, and they ripped you away from me.”

Lucien lunged. The vampire caught the blade with his hand.

“Careful,” he said, his voice darker now. “You’re in her house, Warden. I could tear this entire place down with a breath.”

“I should’ve buried you deeper,” Lucien spat.

“And I should’ve let the curse take you when you betrayed me.”

The room pulsed. The chains that had once bound the coffin snapped fully apart, vanishing into dust. Symbols flared around the chamber, and the air changed.

Magic, thick and ancient, flooded the ground beneath their feet.

The vampire turned back to Alya.

“My name is Cael. I was your king. Your war. Your ruin.”

He dropped to one knee.

“And now, I am yours again.”

Alya took a step back.

Something hot coiled under her skin. The ring on her finger burned with power.

Lucien grabbed her arm. “We need to leave. Now.”

Cael tilted his head. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Because from above them, the stairwell collapsed.

Stone. Fire. Darkness.

And Alya Roth?

She was trapped in a tomb with two vampires.

One who swore to protect her.

And one who used to rule her.

~~~~~

Alya’s pulse drummed in her ears, loud and frantic. The air crackled, heavy with an ominous energy that threatened to suffocate her. She tried to focus on her breath, but her thoughts were a blur. Two vampires. One of them had claimed her as his queen, and the other was desperate to protect her.

But the past had already begun to bleed into the present.

“Cael…” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Cael’s eyes gleamed with an intensity that cut through the tension. “Yes, my queen?” His voice was a velvet purr, too smooth, too familiar.

Alya clenched her fists. She couldn’t deny the pull of him—the undeniable force drawing her in. His presence was magnetic, as if the very ground beneath her feet wanted to bow to him.

Lucien’s grip on her arm tightened. “Don’t listen to him, Alya. He’s the reason this curse exists. He’s the reason you’re here.”

“You lie,” Cael snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Do you think I wanted this? To be ripped from my own bloodline? To watch my love torn away from me by time, fate, and betrayal?”

Lucien’s sword glowed with fury, but he did not move.

Alya’s head spun. This was a nightmare. No—this was her nightmare.

“You…” Alya swallowed, trying to push through the fog. “Why am I here? Why do you need me?”

Cael stood, his frame towering over her as if the very air around him bent to his will. “I need you because you are mine.You belong to me, Alya Roth, by blood and by death.”

Lucien cursed under his breath. “He’s lying. You are no one’s property.”

“Do not be foolish, Warden,” Cael spat, his voice growing cold. “She is the key to everything—the Bloodbound Heir, the one who can break the curse and restore what was lost. You think I wanted her to die? To be reborn again and again, only to forget her own soul?”

Alya felt her knees buckle. Was that the truth? Was she really the key? The heir of a cursed bloodline, bound to a man who had ruled and fallen, waiting for her to awaken from some forgotten dream?

No.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Alya said, her voice shaky but defiant. “I’m not your queen. Not anymore.”

Cael’s expression faltered, something dark flickering in his eyes. He reached toward her, his hand brushing her cheek, and for a moment, Alya thought she might see some flicker of the man who had once loved her.

But then, that flicker disappeared, and all she saw was a predator.

“You are,” he said softly. “And you will remember.”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to rumble. Alya’s heart raced. A low hum—like the earth itself was waking up, groaning in anticipation.

“Get out of here. Now,” Lucien ordered, his voice raw with urgency.

The walls trembled, stones cracking, dust pouring from the ceiling. The once-solid stairwell was now nothing more than a jagged drop.

Cael raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “I could crush this place to the ground with a thought. You still think you can leave?”

Lucien pulled Alya back, moving toward the only exit. But something was different now. The magic in the air twisted, thickening with a malevolent force. Every breath Alya took felt harder, as if the world was trying to smother her.

And then she felt it—the pull. The power of the ring on her finger. It was calling to her. Not just to Cael—but to something else.

A distant roar echoed in the chambers below, like something primal, ancient, and furious had awakened.

Alya’s gaze flickered to Cael. “What’s down there?”

His lips curled. “You’ll see soon enough, my queen. You’ll see.”

Before Lucien could protest, the earth cracked open beneath their feet. The chamber split, and Alya was falling.