*Selene*
Midnight doesn't exist in Eros City.
It's a *threshold*.
The streets breathe differently under the burden of it. Lights flash with a fevered rhythm. Every movement I make resonates like a drumbeat, propelling me further into the city's empty core.
The Glass Cathedral waits at the center of the old quarter, a monument to vanity and gods long forgotten. I've passed it a hundred times, always staring at the blackened stained glass windows, the crumbling spires.
Tonight, it feels alive.
Like it's watching me.
I pull my coat tighter around me, even though the new fire inside my chest should have kept me warm.
But this cold isn't from the night.
It's because I'm going into the lion's den—alone.
Julian wanted to come with me. Naturally, he did. His face was set and immovable, his fists clenched as if he could punch the Crimson Court out of existence if only he tried hard enough.
I held him back.
In the unlikely event something goes wrong tonight, he won't be a part of it.
He's still the only decent thing I've got.
I push the massive cathedral doors aside.
They groan back on hinges that screech far too much like a dying man's final breath.
And I step inside.
⟡
The Glass Cathedral stands open as an empty shell.
The pews are shattered and splintered. The altar splits down the middle. But the stained glass windows—oh, they glimmer.
Not with sunlight.
With *bloodlight*.
Soft, luminous veins of crimson seep through the glass, enveloping the entire cathedral in a living, breathing red. Shadows writhe across marble floors, curling like snakes.
And at the distant end of the great aisle, under the largest window—a gargantuan carving of a bleeding sun—is *Lucien Vale*.
Waiting.
Dressed in a dark suit that glows like polished onyx, he looks almost human. Almost.
Until he smiles.
"Selene Marlowe," he says to me, voice as silky smooth as a snake's, with a knife blade edge to it.
"Thanks for coming to join us humble people."
I don't bow. I don't speak. I walk down the aisle, every step ringing off the hollow quiet.
Other silhouettes shift in the pews. I see them out of the corner of my eye—Court members. Waiting. Watching. Lusting.
I stop halfway down the aisle.
Far enough that I can run, if necessary.
Close enough to hear every word.
Lucien's eyes glint with amusement.
"You've changed," he says.
I don't reply.
I know better than to spar with words when the enemy already has the home advantage.
"You smell different too," he muses. "Ash. Smoke. Old magic."
His smile widens, a shark scenting blood.
"The Solkari flame is alive in you."
I stiffen. The others murmur among themselves, their voices a low tide of greed and envy.
"You brought me here to gawk at me," I tell him, my voice strong.
Lucien chuckles, deep and rumbling.
"No. We brought you here. to offer you a proposal."
I cross my arms. "I'm listening."
He gestures with his hand, as if a king to a court jester.
"You are a special one, Selene. Child of twilight and dawn. Half blood, half flame. You are at a fork in the road."
He steps closer, his bright shoes silent on the marble.
"You could join us."
The voice is deep, nearly kind.
"You could have more than you can even dream. No more sneaking. No more living off scraps. You could reign alongside me. A queen in the halls of blood."
He offers his hand.
Silver rings flash on his fingers.
I glance at it.
A small, old part of me *wants* to take it.
Wants to belong.
Wants to stop running.
But the rest of me—the flame, the hunger, the *rage*—shrieks against it.
I shake my head.
"I'm not interested in being a pet."
Lucien's hand falls to his side. His smile sharpens into something cruel.
"Pity."
The lights flicker.
The ground trembles.
And suddenly, the Court is moving.
Vampires rise from the pews, their faces shifting, stretching—fangs, claws, glowing eyes.
They surround me in a tightening circle.
Lucien watches, serene.
"You're mixed up, little phoenix," he says softly. "You weren't invited to *make a decision*. You were commanded to *kneel*."
My heart storm-rages in my brain.
The fire in me howls with even greater ferocity.
I step back, counting.
I don't have time to battle all of them.
But I can make them *bleed*.
Ashara's training burns in my muscle, marrow.
I drop into a crouch, flames licking down my arms.
The Court growls, sensing the change.
Lucien moves in, intrigued.
Then the stained glass windows *burst apart*.
⟡
A figure bursts through the rain of shards—black coat, wild eyes.
Julian*.
He rolls onto the ground, a weapon clutched in both hands—something like a crossbow and a flamethrower, crazy-modified.
He fires.
A bolt of silver-scorched flame hits the nearest vampire, who screams as they're hurled back.
Pandemonium erupts.
I don't think.
I throw fire at the nearest threat, my Solkari blood responding to my anger.
The fires that erupt from my fingertips aren't red.
They're white.
They burn with a ferocity that leaves nothing but ash.
Julian's beside me, covering for me.
He's cursing under his breath, lighting up like a madman.
"This was your idea?" I shout in the pandemonium.
"Improvised!" he shouts back.
"Typical!"
Lucien stands at the altar, untouched, untroubled.
His eyes shine with something darker than anger.
Possession.
"ENOUGH!" he bellows.
The explosion hits like a blow.
Julian and I stumble.
The Court is caught mid-lunge.
Lucien advances, a scarlet dagger flashing in his palm.
"You think to defy us with fire and playthings?" he taunts. "You think to *evade* destiny?"
He lifts the dagger.
A ritual dagger.
Ancient as the first ever deception.
And behind him—the shadows twist.
Something horrific, something evil, stirs from the broken altar.
I catch glimpses only.
Teeth. Wings. Starvation.
Lucien smiles.
"We don't require you living, Selene," he tells me.
"Only your *blood*."
⟡
Julian grabs my hand.
"We have to go."
I nod, heart hammering.
But the thing at the altar lunges—too fast, too big.
Julian shoves me aside.
The creature strikes him instead.
A scream tears from my throat.
I unleash a blast of Solkari fire that shatters pews, sends vampires flying.
I run to Julian.
He's bleeding—deep gashes across his side.
Still breathing.
Still conscious.
I haul him up.
He leans heavily on me, grimacing.
"Next time," he gasps, "you're listening to me."
"Shut up," I snap, laughing and crying.
The Court is regrouping.
Lucien's smile is murder plain and simple.
I call on everything in me.
The flame.
The fury.
The *refusal* to die here, to let them win.
I set the ground on fire.
White fire erupts in all directions, a burning hurricane of vengeance.
The Court stumbles back.
Lucien shields his eyes.
I grab Julian—and we flee.
Through the broken windows.
Into the night.
Into the bleeding, breathing heart of Eros.
⟡
We don't stop running until we're blocks away.
Only then do I lean against the wall, fighting to breathe.
Julian sits down beside me.
"You okay?" I croak.
He nods weakly. "You?"
I look at him.
At the blood-soaked shirt.
At the way he's still holding my hand as if letting go would kill him.
"I'm not okay," I lie.
"But I'm alive."
He leans his head against the wall, eyes closing.
"You scared the hell out of me."
"You scared me first," I try to say with a smile.
It breaks in two.
Julian's eyes open.
They focus on mine.
And there's a tension between us.
A string, drawn tight.
An inevitability.
Without breath, without thinking, I move forward.
Our lips meet.
Soft.
Shuddery.
Real.
The city burns around us—but in this moment, nothing else is.
I pull away first, gasping.
Julian regards me like I'm the only thing worth saving.
"You're mine," he says.
I lean my forehead into his.
"And you're mine."
And for the first time in too long—
I believe it.