The rain fell hard against the cracked pavement, each drop echoing like a ticking clock. Eira Monroe sat curled beneath the bus stop awning, her sketchbook open in her lap, though her pencil had long since stopped moving. The lines she had drawn—once bold, now smudged—seemed insignificant against the weight pressing on her chest.
The world had never felt like hers.
She glanced up at the stormy sky, eyes hollow, lips trembling. Her parents had died three years ago. The foster homes blurred together like background noise. She had no one. Nothing. No purpose except the aching hope that maybe… there was something more.
A flash of light. A scream.
The car never slowed.
Pain lanced through her body—sharp, cruel, final. Eira's world turned to black, and with it, the emptiness she'd carried her whole life vanished.
But death, it seemed, wasn't the end.
⸻
She woke to silence. No pain. No cold. Just… weightlessness.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped.
Above her stretched a ceiling of dark, carved stone, inlaid with glimmering violet crystals that pulsed softly like a heartbeat. The air was scented with something rich and strange—like roses and iron.
She sat up too quickly, her head spinning. Her clothes had changed: gone was the damp hoodie and jeans. In their place, a silken white gown, delicate and flowing, embroidered with silver threads in a language she couldn't read.
Eira stumbled to her feet. Her bare soles touched warm marble.
Where the hell was she?
A sudden creak drew her gaze to the massive double doors at the far end of the chamber. They opened with a whisper, revealing a figure cloaked in black and red. He was tall—absurdly so—and moved with a grace that made her freeze.
His skin was pale as moonlight. His eyes, like molten garnet, fixed on her with unreadable intensity.
"You're awake."
His voice was smooth, low, and ancient in a way that made the air shiver.
She backed away, heart pounding. "Who are you? Where am I?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, the torches along the wall flaring to life with his movement.
"You are in Noctharrow," he said, stopping just short of her reach. "The heart of the vampire realm. And I… am King Lucien Valemar."
Eira blinked. Her brain stuttered over every word.
"Vampire?" she echoed.
Lucien's lips quirked in the faintest smile, more shadow than amusement. "Yes. And you, Eira Monroe, have been summoned here for a purpose most divine."
"I died," she whispered. "I was hit by a car. I—I shouldn't be here."
"You did die," he confirmed. "But death is not always the end. Sometimes, it is merely the door to your true beginning."
Eira's knees threatened to buckle. "This is a dream."
"No," he said softly. "It is prophecy."
He extended his hand to her. "You are the Bride of the Eternal King. My bride."
Her world tilted. "That's insane!"
Lucien didn't flinch. "And yet, it is truth. The Bloodbound Prophecy foretold of your arrival. A soul reborn. A union that will bring balance to our world… or plunge it into ruin."
"I don't know anything about your world!" she cried. "I'm just a girl. A nobody!"
He stepped closer, his eyes burning. "You are everything to this kingdom. Whether you choose to be or not."
Her chest heaved. "I want to go back."
"There is no going back," Lucien said quietly. "Your soul crossed the veil. You belong to this world now."
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Eira turned her back to him, clutching her arms. Her heart pounded like it was trying to escape her chest.
Lucien's voice softened. "You may not trust me. That is understandable. But I will not harm you, Eira. You have my word."
She glanced at him, eyes narrowing. "Why me? Why would some vampire king need a human girl?"
His expression darkened, though not with anger. It was… sorrow?
"Because without you, I will fall into madness," he said, barely above a whisper. "And this realm will burn with me."
Eira's breath caught.
Before she could respond, a second figure stepped into the room. A woman—tall, with silver hair coiled atop her head and piercing blue eyes that shimmered with suspicion.
"Forgive my interruption, Your Majesty," she said coolly. "The council awaits your presence."
Lucien turned slightly. "This is Lady Seraphine. My court advisor."
Seraphine gave Eira a curt nod. "We will need to assess her. Magic, lineage, strength. She may not be what we hoped."
Eira frowned. "I'm standing right here."
"Then listen well," Seraphine said with a thin smile.
Lucien held up a hand. "Enough. She has only just arrived. She will rest first. Then we proceed."
He looked at Eira again, gaze unreadable.
"I will give you time to adjust," he said. "But do not mistake it for freedom. You are bound to this fate now, Eira. And soon… the court will demand your acceptance."
He turned and left, Seraphine trailing behind him.
The doors closed with a quiet thud.
Eira stood in silence, her pulse hammering in her ears. The chamber suddenly felt colder.
A bride to a vampire king.
She looked down at her hands—still shaking.
"What the hell kind of second chance is this?"