Raina didn't sleep.
Her body throbbed with the lingering heat of transformation. Her skin was still tender where the runes had burned their way across her flesh. Every breath felt like she was inhaling fragments of a past that wasn't hers, but still lived inside her waiting, pulsing, demanding acknowledgment.
Outside her bedroom, Lucien stood guard.
Not because she needed protection, but because someone or something had sensed her awakening. The house itself groaned under the weight of ancient secrets no longer content to sleep.
Before dawn, she rose.
The moon still hung low in the sky, crimson and full. The Blood Moon. It stained the landscape in hues of warning. Even the trees outside her balcony leaned in, branches curled like claws. The world was holding its breath.
Lucien waited for her in the training hall, a sacred space carved from stone and blood memory. The air inside was thick, pulsing with power. This wasn't just a room it was a sanctum. A place that has witnessed war, sacrifice… love.
"You came," he said, without turning.
"I couldn't sleep."
He handed her a blade slender, silver, old.
The moment her fingers curled around the hilt, her knees nearly buckled. A vision hit her like lightning.
She stood on a battlefield. Armor clung to her body like a second skin. The blade this very blade dripped with moonlight. At her feet lay a creature, mangled and still twitching. And behind her… Lucien. Bound. Bleeding. Watching her with eyes full of something between agony and devotion.
She gasped.
Lucien caught her.
"The memories will come faster now," he murmured.
"I was going to kill you," she whispered.
"You did."
His voice didn't tremble. But his eyes did.
She shook her head. "Then why would you ever trust me again?"
"Because you brought me back."
His words settled into the space between them like a vow.
"Show me," she said. "Show me what I used to be."
Lucien didn't hold back.
For the next hour, the sound of clashing steel echoed through the stone walls. Raina moved like someone who'd done this a thousand times. Muscle memory woke with each swing. She ducked, spun, struck her body remembering what her mind could not.
"You're a dancer with a blade," Lucien murmured. "Deadly. Beautiful."
She panted, sweat slicking her neck. "Don't flirt while I'm trying to kill you."
"Old habit."
They circled again. He lunged. She blocked. Blades locked. Sparks flew.
His body pressed against hers, pinning her to the wall. Breathless. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The tension cracked then shattered.
Their mouths collided.
It wasn't sweet. It wasn't careful. It was a messy, unrestrained storm. She yanked him closer. His hands roamed her hips, her back. Her silk training tunic fell from her shoulders. He lifted her with a growl, her legs wrapping around him without hesitation.
They fell together onto the padded mat, into the heat between them. His mouth found her breasts. Her moans echoed through the chamber. He kissed every scar, every mark, like worship.
When he entered her, it wasn't just sex.
It was remembrance.
And rebirth.
They moved like they had been made for this again and again through lifetimes that always brought them back together. And when they shattered, it was not quiet.
It was a howl.
After, he held her. His hand traced the glowing mark curling up her arm like ivy.
"It's spreading again," he whispered.
They both knew what that meant.
That night, Elias returned.
But he wasn't alone.
The woman beside him was tall and fierce, her presence crackling like fire on cold stone. Braids twisted down her back like ropes. A crescent-shaped blade rested against her hip.
"This is Maeva," Elias said. "One of the last Huntresses of the Old Order."
Maeva looked at Raina with narrowed eyes. "The bloodline is real. But she's green."
Lucien bristled. "She's awake."
"Too slowly," Maeva snapped. "If the High Coven comes before she's ready"
"She won't be alone," Lucien cut in.
Raina stepped forward. "Then help me."
Maeva's lips curled into a grin. "Good. You don't have much time."
Training began at dawn.
Maeva was ruthless. Raina bled. She bruised. She broke bones and kept going. Lucien watched from the shadows, eyes filled with equal parts pride and fear.
And every night, Raina returned to him.
Their bodies tangled under moonlight, finding solace in touch and breath. But the mark never stopped spreading.
One night, she woke up screaming.
Blood soaked the sheets.
Lucien was there in seconds. She clutched his shirt, gasping.
"I saw fire," she whispered. "So much fire. You were dying."
"I've died before," he said, kissing her temple. "I won't leave you again."
"Then stay."
He held her tighter.
Days passed like blinks. And then Maeva summoned a creature from the woods half shadow, half nightmare.
"Kill it," she said. "Or it kills you."
The fight was brutal. Raina was clawed, bitten, nearly broken. But something inside her snapped awake. Her blade ignited with moonlight. Her body moved on its own. She struck.
The beast disintegrated into smoke and ash.
Maeva said nothing for a long moment. Then, to Lucien, "She's ready. Or as close as she'll get."
But Raina wasn't sure.
Something still stirred in her blood.
Older than memory.
Darker than destiny.
That night, from her balcony, she saw eyes glowing in the woods watching her. Waiting.
And the mark on her wrist pulsed hot and wild… like something ancient was about to wake.