Virella couldn't stop shaking.
Not from fear—but from the sheer chaos thrumming beneath her skin.
Her senses were sharper, her reflexes unnatural, her body constantly on edge like it was caught between two instincts—one that wanted to drink blood, and one that wanted to howl.
She stared at herself in the cracked mirror of the estate's bathroom. Her irises glinted gold for a second—then red. The duality inside her felt like two worlds pulling her apart.
"Virella?"
Alaric's voice came from the hallway. "We need to talk."
She opened the door slowly, arms crossed. "About what? The fact that I'm turning into a monster? Or the part where you made me this way without telling me?"
Alaric stood silent for a moment. He looked tired, older than the seventeen-year-old he pretended to be. The shadows under his eyes were deeper tonight. He didn't flinch from her anger.
"You were dying," he said simply. "Poisoned by someone who didn't want you to live long enough to awaken."
"Awaken into what, Alaric?" she spat. "Whatever I am now—this… this isn't normal. I can feel my heartbeat and hunger at the same time. What did you do to me?"
Alaric stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
"I made you like me."
She stared at him, stunned.
"A vampire-werewolf hybrid," he continued. "The only other one that exists is me. Until you."
Her breath caught. "You infected me?"
"No," he said quickly. "I gave you a choice… you just don't remember it."
---
He told her everything.
How centuries ago, he was born of vampire and werewolf blood. How his mother, Selene, was an alpha unlike any other—a true leader of the Darkridge pack, strong enough to hold back even vampire royalty. She fell in love with Alaric's father, a vampire lord. But what started as passion became politics, and what was once a family turned into a war.
"She was betrayed by her own kind. My father let the hunters take her. He did nothing," Alaric said, fists clenched. "I was thirteen. I watched her die."
"And your revenge?" Virella asked, her voice softer now.
"I'm building something they can't ignore," he said. "Not just an army. A new world. Where hybrids like us don't have to hide. Where vampires don't kneel. Where werewolves don't get hunted."
She looked at him carefully. "And me? What's my part in all of this?"
"You're not part of it," Alaric said, stepping closer. "You're the reason I haven't lost myself. You're the reason I even want a future."
Her heart—still beating—ached at his words.
But she wasn't ready to forgive. Not yet.
---
Later that night, Virella found herself walking the halls of the estate, the memories of her old life clashing with the strangeness of her new one.
She stopped when she saw her twin brother, Varen, sitting in their father's old study. A glass of crimson liquid sat untouched on the desk beside him.
"You know, he's lying to you," Varen said without turning.
"I don't think he is," she replied. "Not about this."
Varen finally looked up. His golden eyes were sharp with something darker than anger.
"Do you even remember what happened the night he turned you?"
She hesitated.
"I remember pain," she said. "I remember you holding my hand. And then… nothing. Until I woke up."
"You were attacked," Varen said. "By something neither vampire nor werewolf. I carried you back here. He followed us. He said he could save you—but I didn't know what that meant until it was too late."
Virella studied him. "You still haven't told me why you hate him."
Varen's jaw clenched. "Because I loved him once. Like a brother. And he used that to get to you. He started this war back when we were children."
"And you betrayed him," she added.
"I tried to stop him," Varen growled. "Before he became what he is now."
Silence grew between them, heavy as stone.
Then Varen said something that made her blood chill.
"Lucien's back."
Virella's breath hitched. "His brother?"
"He was here last night. Watching the estate from the treeline."
She clenched her fists. "Then the war is already beginning."
---
Elsewhere, deep beneath the forest in a secret underground chamber, Alaric stood before his growing army.
The vampires he had gathered stood in quiet formation—some turned by him, others born of pure blood but sworn to his cause.
"We were hunted. Forgotten. Controlled," he said, voice echoing. "But now, we rise."
A figure stepped forward—Rian, his best friend and second-in-command.
"They're ready, Alaric. But Lucien's watching. And your father… he knows."
"I don't care," Alaric replied. "He'll see what I've become."
Rian hesitated. "What about her?"
Alaric smiled slightly. "Virella is the key."
---
Back in her room, Virella sat near the window, staring into the woods. Something inside her had changed permanently—something wild, ancient, and fierce.
She wasn't just a vampire anymore.
She wasn't just a girl.
She was a hybrid. And her soul now danced to two different drums—blood and moonlight.
And somewhere in that chaos, a part of her whispered that she wanted to fight.
Not for revenge.
For him.
----