Eldur's POV
Margaret stood at the edge of the barrier like a phantom made flesh—black hair like ink, eyes the color of stormy skies. She raised her hands, palms forward, magic already crackling between her fingers. Her lips moved in a silent chant, and her power pulsed outward like a tidal wave trying to shatter the blue dome Elizabeth had cast over Beauty Valley.
I watched from the ridge.
I felt the pressure build in the air, thick as a heartbeat held too long. Her magic was dark—twisted. Hungry. It clawed at the barrier with desperation, as though trying to drag us all into her madness.
But Elizabeth's spell held firm.
A deep hum resonated from the earth, rising in answer. The barrier shimmered, resisting the corruption with light that pulsed like breath.
Margaret hissed, recoiling as if burned.
"Nice try," I murmured, smirking. "But Elizabeth doesn't bend for vampires with abandonment issues."
Behind me, footsteps approached, light and steady.
Adrian. My father.
