THE PRICE

The moment Evelyn opened her eyes, the scent of old stone and ash greeted her like a forgotten memory. The chamber was dark, carved into the mountain’s bones, with only flickering torches casting dancing shadows across its cavernous walls. She had no recollection of being brought here—only the sharp pain of the mark searing across her back and Lucian’s voice murmuring something ancient as her vision faded.

Now, her body ached. Not with the usual stiffness of sleep but the soreness of something deeper—something wrong. She sat up slowly, the cold stone beneath her a harsh contrast to the fire raging within her veins.

“Awake at last,” came a voice, smooth and deep.

Lucian stepped from the shadows, dressed in black as always, but this time his coat was undone, revealing the crimson mark that pulsed across his chest—similar to the one now etched into Evelyn’s skin.

“You marked me,” she said, her voice hoarse. “What have you done?”

“I saved you.”

“No. You changed me.”

Lucian didn’t flinch. He walked toward her slowly, his boots echoing in the silence. “You were dying, Evelyn. The curse was already awakening in your bloodline. If I hadn’t claimed you, it would have destroyed you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So instead, you made me your… what? Your pet? Your blood bride?”

“I gave you a choice, and you chose life,” he said, not angrily, but with the quiet intensity of someone used to control.

“I didn’t choose this,” she hissed, rising to her feet. The movement made her dizzy, and Lucian reached for her, but she pushed him away. “You didn’t tell me what the mark meant.”

“You wouldn’t have understood.”

“Then help me understand now.”

Lucian’s expression softened slightly, but the tension in his jaw remained. “You are bound to me, Evelyn. The mark ties your life to mine. You are no longer just human. The bloodline you carry—it’s cursed, ancient, and dangerous. That mark was the only way to stop what’s coming.”

Evelyn’s voice trembled. “And what is coming?”

Lucian turned away, his cloak sweeping across the cold stone. “A reckoning.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she focused on the pulsing beneath her skin—the mark burned with each beat of her heart, like something inside her was being awakened.

“Then tell me everything,” she said. “Tell me the truth, all of it.”

Lucian’s back remained turned for a long moment, and she almost thought he would refuse. But then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “Centuries ago, I was cursed by a woman who once loved me. She thought I betrayed her—and perhaps I did. But she cursed my bloodline to never die, to feed endlessly, to feel the hunger for eternity. Vampirism wasn’t a gift; it was revenge.”

Evelyn listened, stunned.

“The curse didn’t end with me,” he continued. “It passed down to any human born with the blood of the Seers—the ones who could sense truth, life, and death. You, Evelyn, are the last of the Seers. Your blood is pure, untouched… until now.”

“You mean, I was meant to die?”

“No,” he said. “You were meant to break it.”

She shook her head, confused. “Break what? The curse?”

Lucian finally turned back, eyes glowing faintly. “Yes. But not without a cost. To break the curse, you have to bear the burden—live as both human and cursed. No one has survived that before.”

“Then why did you mark me?” she demanded.

“Because I believe you can.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths. Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself, feeling both colder and more alive than she’d ever been.

Lucian moved closer, stopping just inches from her. “The mark binds us. Not as master and slave, but as two pieces of the same prophecy. You are the key, Evelyn. You were born for this.”

She stared into his eyes, searching for lies. But all she found was exhaustion—and something else. Regret.

“Will I become like you?” she whispered. “A monster?”

“No,” he said softly. “Unless you let yourself.”

She looked down at her hands, watching as faint veins shimmered under her skin. “I can feel it. Something… inside me. It’s hungry.”

“That’s the curse,” he said. “And your will is the cage.”

Evelyn’s voice trembled. “What happens if I lose control?”

Lucian leaned in, his breath cold against her cheek. “Then I’ll be the one to end it.”

The chamber fell into silence once more.

The following days were a blur of pain and whispers. Evelyn was kept hidden in the castle beneath the cliffs—Lucian’s fortress carved into the edge of the cursed forest. Shadows moved with their own rhythm, and the servants never met her eyes.

She began training. Not with swords or spells—but with restraint. Meditation. Control. Every night, Lucian would test her—blood scents, illusions, even fear. He pushed her limits, and she pushed back harder.

But the hunger… it grew.

By the seventh day, Evelyn had to chain herself to the bed to avoid sleepwalking. Lucian didn’t stop her.

He only watched.

Until the night it broke.

She awoke to the sound of screaming.

One of the servants—a young boy—had entered her chamber by mistake. The scent of his blood had triggered something primal in her. Evelyn didn’t remember lunging at him. She didn’t remember sinking her fangs into his neck. All she remembered was the metallic taste, the feeling of life flooding her senses.

Then Lucian had pulled her back. His voice had snapped her out of it, and she collapsed on the floor, blood on her hands.

The boy lived. Barely.

But Evelyn didn’t speak for hours after that.

“I’m a monster,” she finally whispered.

“No,” Lucian said. “You’re what the world made you.”

“I should have died.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, anger finally surfacing. “Why risk everything for me?”

Lucian’s eyes darkened. “Because I’ve seen this before. A girl just like you. She had power. She had hope. And the world tore her apart.”

“Your lover?” Evelyn asked.

He nodded once.

“And she died?”

“No,” he whispered. “She became something worse than death.”

Evelyn stared at him. “What happened to her?”

Lucian looked away. “She’s still out there.”

Chills crawled down Evelyn’s spine.

“She’s the one who cursed you?” she asked.

“She is the curse.”

That night, Evelyn dreamt of fire and blood. Of a woman cloaked in shadow, standing at the edge of the cliff, whispering her name in a voice that was both hers and not.

Evelyn…

She awoke in a cold sweat, the mark on her back pulsing wildly.

Lucian entered moments later, as if he’d been summoned. “You felt her, didn’t you?”

Evelyn nodded slowly.

“She knows you’ve awakened,” he said grimly. “She’ll come for you soon.”

Evelyn’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Then we fight,” she whispered at last.

Lucian nodded. “We do.”

“But not alone,” she added, fire lighting her eyes.

A moment passed between them—something unspoken. Then, for the first time since their bond was formed, Lucian reached out and took her hand.

“We stand together.”

And deep within her, something ancient stirred.

Something hungry.

Something ready.