The night was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Lysara y on her back, staring at the vast sky above them. The stars twinkled like tiny diamonds, and the cool breeze rustled the leaves around their makeshift camp.

  She wasn’t tired.

  Well—she was tired, but her mind wouldn’t let her rest.

  They had been traveling for a week now.

  Seven days with Valerius.

  Seven days of running, fighting, and—surprisingly—talking.

  And now, for the first time since their journey began, she found herself thinking about him.

  Not as the vampire who kidnapped her. Not as the enemy who lost his empire. Not even as the terrifying force that could end armies with a flick of his wrist.

  But as a man.

  Lysara turned her head slightly, sneaking a gnce at him.

  Valerius sat on a nearby rock, his back straight, his gaze locked onto the dark horizon. The firelight cast sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the cold perfection of his features.

  He really is unfairly handsome.

  She had noticed it before, of course. How could she not?

  But back then, she actually thought he was just a monster-looking even before he invaded her kingdom, she had been too busy gring at him, calling him a monster, or plotting her escape.

  Now, after all they had been through, she was seeing him differently.

  The way his crimson eyes gleamed in the dark. The way his silver hair fell over his forehead when he wasn’t paying attention. The way his lips curled ever so slightly when she annoyed him.

  Lysara blinked.

  Oh no.

  Was she—?

  No.

  Absolutely not.

  She refused to be one of those people who fell for the mysterious, brooding warrior type.

  And yet—

  A memory surfaced.

  The way he caught her when she stumbled. The way he shielded her without hesitation. The way he never let her out of his sight.

  Lysara bit her lip.

  This was dangerous.

  "You’re staring," Valerius said suddenly.

  Lysara jumped.

  "N-No, I wasn’t!" she stammered.

  His lips twitched in amusement. "You were."

  Lysara huffed, rolling onto her side. "I was just thinking."

  "About?"

  "You did say that General Lycans fight like beasts—ferocious but predictable. Abyssal Lycans are different. l So Aris isn’t just strong—she’s smart."

  "Exactly," Valerius said. "She doesn’t waste movement. She doesn’t fight with rage—she fights with purpose. That’s why I had to take a bit of my strength to fight her."

  Lysara hummed in thought.

  It made sense.

  And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.

  "Then what about you?" she asked suddenly.

  Valerius raised a brow. "What about me?"

  "You’re obviously stronger than all of them," she pointed out. "But… you hold back. I’ve seen it."

  Valerius didn’t answer immediately.

  The fire crackled between them.

  Finally, he murmured, "Because if I don’t hold back, there won’t be anything left."

  Lysara blinked.

  A chill ran down her spine.

  She thought back to that night—the moment Valerius unleashed his power against their enemies.

  The ground had split. The sky had shaken. The air had felt heavy with death.

  He wasn’t just strong.

  He was unstoppable.

  And yet, even now… he was still here.

  Still restrained. Still controlled.

  Still holding back.

  Lysara swallowed.

  This wasn’t just about strength.

  It was about burden.

  For the first time, she wondered—what did it feel like to be him?

  To carry all that power?

  To lose everything and still keep moving forward?

  Days passed.

  They walked. They fought. They survived.

  Valerius protected her at every turn.

  Lysara guided him with her strategies.

  It was routine now.

  But something had changed.

  Valerius had stopped treating her like a burden. Lysara had stopped seeing him as her captor.

  She had started trusting him.

  And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to trust her, too.

  One night, as they rested under the stars, she found herself staring again.

  He caught her.

  Again.

  Lysara flushed.

  Valerius smirked. "why are staring"

  "I—I’m not!, it's not like you also stare at me all the time!"

  He leaned in slightly, crimson eyes gleaming. "Then what are you doing?"

  Lysara scrambled for an answer.

  Then, in the most pathetic attempt to change the subject, she blurted—

  "Your face is annoyingly perfect."

  Valerius blinked.

  Lysara froze.

  Oh. OH NO.

  Did she just—??

  Valerius tilted his head, looking genuinely amused.

  "Annoyingly perfect?"

  Lysara wanted to die.

  She waved her hands frantically. "I-I mean, it’s just so sharp and symmetrical and—Ugh, just forget I said anything!"

  Valerius chuckled.

  He actually chuckled.

  Lysara groaned, covering her face.

  This was so unfair.

  Why was he suddenly not a cold, unfeeling monster?!

  Why was he this?!

  Lysara peeked at him between her fingers.

  And that’s when she realized—

  She was in trouble.

  Because Valerius wasn’t just a terrifying vampire.

  He was breathtaking.

  And she was falling for him.

  "We’re here."

  Lysara exhaled, looking at her kingdom.

  Lirielle.

  Home.

  And yet, as she gnced at Valerius…

  Why did it feel like her heart was staying with him?

  and that's when..

  Lysara’s breath caught in her throat.

  Lirielle was burning.

  The towering gates of her kingdom were shattered, the once-proud stone walls now scarred with cw marks and blood. Smoke curled into the sky, dark and ominous against the morning light.

  This wasn’t the homecoming she had imagined.

  It was a graveyard.

  Valerius stood beside her, silent. His crimson eyes scanned the destruction, his posture tense but unreadable.

  Aris had gone pale. "No…"

  Lysara felt her knees wobble, but she forced herself to stay standing.

  This was her kingdom.

  Her people.

  And they were—

  No. Not yet. Don’t assume the worst.

  But the truth loomed before her like a storm.

  Lirielle had fallen.

  They moved cautiously through the ruined streets.

  Bodies littered the cobblestone roads—knights, civilians, even lycans. Blood stained the ground, the air thick with the stench of death and burning wood.

  Lysara’s heart hammered against her ribs.

  She wanted to cry.

  She wanted to scream.

  She wanted to do something.

  But she didn’t.

  She couldn’t afford to.

  Not yet.

  Not until she knew who had survived.

  "Where are the royal guards? My Generals?" Aris murmured, scanning the ruins.

  Lysara’s throat was dry. "If they lost, then…"

  She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  She wouldn’t.

  A sudden growl echoed from an alley.

  A lycan—wounded, bleeding—stumbled out.

  It saw her.

  Its eyes fred.

  Then—

  CRACK.

  Before it could even lunge, Valerius moved.

  A blur of motion. A single, clean strike.

  And the lycan’s head hit the ground before its body did.

  Lysara flinched.

  Valerius exhaled, flicking blood from his cws. "They are already weak."

  Lysara clenched her fists.

  Weak or not, it had still won.

  It and its kind had turned Lirielle into this hell.

  She turned to Aris, who was standing silently beside her. "We need to find survivors."

  Aris nodded, her expression grim but determined. "I’ll search the eastern gates."

  Valerius simply watched them, his gaze unreadable as always.

  For once, he didn’t mock her emotions.

  Didn’t call her naive.

  Didn’t tell her to let it go.

  Instead, he spoke the words she needed to hear.

  "Then we move. Now."

  They found them in the remnants of the castle.

  A handful of knights. A few wounded soldiers.

  And at their center—

  Lysara’s father.

  King Alden Everdawn sat slumped against a fallen pilr, blood staining his royal cloak. His once-proud form looked smaller now, his golden armor cracked, his sword resting limply in his p.

  But his eyes—his sharp, piercing eyes—were still filled with fire.

  Lysara fell to her knees. "Father!"

  He looked up, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered in his gaze. Then, slowly, he smiled.

  "Liri," he rasped.

  Tears welled in her eyes. "I—I thought you—"

  "I don’t die so easily," he murmured.

  Lysara let out a shaky ugh, but the relief was brief.

  Because her father’s next words sent a chill through her.

  "Someone.. Someone of our own has turned against us."

  Lysara’s breath hitched. "What?"

  Her father’s jaw tightened. "The lycans. They left—but only for now. They’ve been waiting for something. And the inside has let them in" His gaze flicked to Valerius, eyes dark with realization.

  Lysara followed his gaze.

  And suddenly, it all made sense.

  The lycans didn’t destroy Lirielle completely.

  Lirielle has the most powerful defense that even Valeriues has struggled with

  They didn’t wipe out the survivors.

  They didn’t finish the job.

  Because they probably had been waiting for Valerius.

  Waiting for the st true vampire to return.

  Valerius crossed his arms, expression unreadable. "Typical dirty py of these fools, if they want me, they shouldn't have to destroy all of the pce I will go. Destroying Liriell doesn't make any sense to me"

  Lysara’s hands shook.

  This isn’t just about Lirielle.

  It was bigger.

  This war—this hunt— might be just about him.

  And Lirielle might've caught in the middle.

  Aris stood beside Lysara, her hand resting on her shoulder. "What will you do now, Liri?" Her voice was steady, but the tension in her eyes was clear. "We can’t just turn away."

  Lysara looked at her handmaiden, feeling a surge of gratitude for Aris’s unwavering presence. Despite the chaos around them, she was the one person who had always been there—her protector, her confidante.

  "I won’t run," Lysara said, her voice stronger than she felt. "I won’t leave my people behind."

  Aris nodded, stepping closer to Lysara. "If that's what the Empress wants, then we fight."

  A decision had to be made.

  They could flee.

  Abandon Lirielle. To save the few survivors.

  Live to fight another day.

  That was what a leader would do.

  That was what Val—the mind—would choose.

  But her heart screamed against it.

  This was her home.

  Her people.

  She couldn’t run.

  Not again.

  Not until every option was exhausted.

  She stood in the ruins of everything she had ever known, her father’s blood staining the stone, the weight of an entire kingdom pressing down on her—

  And she realized something terrifying.

  This was her choice.

  Her burden.

  Her moment.

  Would she be the heart or the mind?

  Would she risk everything?

  Would be staying will make them win with these small numbers of her warriors has remained?

  Or walk away?

  Lysara clenched her fists.

  She didn’t have an answer.

  Not yet.

  But as the night deepened and the wind howled through the ruined streets—

  She knew one thing.

  Whatever she chose…

  There would be no turning back.

  Lysara stood frozen in the heart of the ruined city. The banners of her house, once symbols of pride and power, y trampled in the blood-soaked streets. The walls that had shielded generations now crumbled under the weight of failure.

  And her people—her people— 80 to 90 percent of the numbers were either dead or dying.

  Her knees buckled, and she sank to the cold stone floor, her breath ragged.

  She had seen battles. She had seen bloodshed.

  But nothing could have prepared her for this.

  Tears streamed down her face as she gripped the fabric of her cloak, her body shaking. I was supposed to protect them…

  "If not only for this sickness that I had, i could have done something... something.."

  The words barely left her lips, strangled by the grief cwing at her throat.

  A shadow loomed over her.

  Valerius.

  He watched her silently, his crimson gaze unreadable. Then, after a moment, he crouched beside her, resting his forearm on his knee.

  "You can cry all you want," he said, voice even, unshaken. "But it won’t change what’s already done."

  Lysara flinched. "How can you say that?" she whispered, looking up at him, eyes filled with sorrow. "I—I failed."

  Val didn’t respond immediately. He let the silence stretch, the weight of reality pressing down on both of them.

  Then, he exhaled, his tone firm but not unkind.

  "You didn’t fail."

  Lysara let out a bitter ugh, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. "Then what is this?" She gestured weakly to the destruction around them. "This... this is the price of my choices. If only I came home faster, I—"

  "Then you would have died with them," Val cut in, his voice quiet but absolute. "And this city would still have burned."

  Lysara choked on a sob.

  But Lysara knew that Liriell would have at least survive if she stayed, or at least, if the illess is not holding her back.

  Val reached out. For a second, she thought he might wipe away her tears—but instead, he gently pced a hand on her shoulder, grounding her.

  "You still have a kingdom to recim," he reminded her. "You still have people who need you. Mourning is necessary. But staying broken? That’s a choice."

  Lysara trembled beneath his touch, but his words—harsh as they were—cut through the storm of despair in her chest.

  Val watched her carefully. "You think this pain means you’re weak?" His eyes darkened. "No. Weakness is letting it stop you."

  She swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the fabric of her cloak.

  Val let go of her shoulder and stood, looking down at her one st time.

  "You don’t have the luxury of breaking down," he said simply. "Not yet."

  Val continued. "You have relied so much on your own strength and overestimated yourself, unable to taste a single defeat in your life. I hope this will make you learn and become stronger tomorrow."

  Then, he turned away, walking toward the burning remnants of her home.

  Lysara wiped at her tears, her heart aching—but her mind, just for a moment, held onto his words.

  I need to decide.