She couldn't believe it. No—she refused to believe it.
Her father was King Valentin of the Eira Kingdom. The strongest of vampires. The most feared monarch in all the realms. The kind of ruler before whom even ancient ones bowed.
No!
A vampire like him didn't die. He couldn't die.
Lisbeth spun around, eyes locked on the place where her father had fallen. But a wave of enemies surged toward her, blocking the path. Asvaldur vampires closed in, surrounding her like shadows, their fangs bared and claws raised.
"Father!" she screamed, desperation ripping through her voice.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, cold and blinding. With a guttural cry, she slammed her palms to the ground, freezing everything in a wide radius. The ice spread like a curse—vampires slipped and crashed to the ground, snarling in frustration.
But the attacks didn't stop.
Father! Please!
