Chapter 14:House of shadows

The iron gates loomed ahead, tall as sentinels against the night sky. Beyond them, the estate sprawled like a sleeping beast—stone walls wrapped in ivy, towers slicing through the moonlit haze. The air smelled of rain-soaked earth and something older, something heavy with memory.

Not a house. A fortress.

A prison. I yanked against the cuffs, my pulse hammering against my ribs. "I'm not going in there."

Vladimir sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like I was some petulant child. "Kaira—"

"No." My breath came sharp, ragged. "I don't know what kind of twisted game you're playing, but I'm not your pawn."

His lips curled into something between amusement and irritation. "You're not a pawn." His voice lowered, silk over steel. "You're the queen."

A chill slithered down my spine, but I swallowed it down. "I don't care." I jerked against the cuffs again, ignoring the sharp sting as metal bit into my skin. "I am not going in there."

His patience finally snapped. "You don't have a choice."

In a flash, he was on me, his hand catching my wrist, his grip firm but not bruising. The air shifted between us, thick with something unsaid.

I glared up at him. "Then kill me."

A flicker of something crossed his expression—something dark, something almost pained. Then it was gone, swallowed by the sharp curve of his smirk.

"Oh, darling." He leaned in, voice a breath against my lips. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be buried."

My stomach twisted. I hate him. I hate him. I hate—

The car door opened, and the cold night air rushed in. I turned my head—two men in dark suits stood by the gate, watching us. Not with suspicion. Not with fear.

With expectation.

As if they'd been waiting for me.

Vladimir's grip loosened. He stepped out first, adjusting his cuffs, his movements slow and deliberate. A king in his castle. Then he turned back to me, extending a hand.

The choice was an illusion.

I knew it.

But I took it anyway.

I stepped out, the gravel crunching beneath my boots. The air was thick with silence, the kind that felt like unseen eyes watching from the dark. My pulse thrummed as I took in the estate, the towering stone walls, the heavy oak doors, the faint glow of candlelight spilling from the windows.

A house steeped in secrets.

Vladimir walked ahead, and the two men fell into step behind us. My skin crawled at the unspoken power they carried—not human, not fully human. Something else. The entrance loomed before me, two massive doors carved with intricate patterns—roses entwined with daggers, wolves circling a crown.

Vladimir pushed them open without effort.

Warmth and candlelight swallowed us whole.

I hesitated on the threshold.

Crossing it felt like stepping into a trap, like once I entered, I'd never leave the same.

Vladimir glanced back. "Don't make me drag you, Kaira."

I glared and stepped forward.

The doors closed behind me with a sound that felt final.

Inside the House of Shadows.

The grand hall stretched before me—stone walls lined with flickering sconces, a grand staircase winding up to unseen rooms above. The scent of old books, burning cedar, and something faintly metallic curled in the air.

Blood.

I stiffened.

"You live in a haunted castle," I muttered.

Vladimir smirked, shrugging off his coat. "It grows on you."

I scanned the room, my mind racing. I needed to find a way out. But I was unarmed, cuffed, and Vladimir—damn him—was watching me like he could read my every thought.

A woman appeared at the top of the stairs. Tall. Regal. Dressed in black velvet, with piercing gray eyes that seemed to dissect me from across the room. Her dark hair was swept back, revealing sharp cheekbones and an air of effortless authority.

Her gaze flicked to Vladimir first. "You're late."

Vladimir sighed, unbothered. "You're always so dramatic, Celeste."

Celeste.

Something about her presence made my skin prickle. She wasn't just anyone. She was important here.

Then her gaze slid to me.

The weight of it made my throat tighten. "So this is her."

Not a question. A statement.

I lifted my chin. "And who the hell are you?"

A flicker of amusement passed through her eyes, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. She descended the stairs with the grace of someone who was used to people watching.

"I am the one who keeps things from falling apart," she said smoothly. "And you, Kaira, are making my job significantly harder."

I clenched my fists. "Yeah, well, I never asked to be a part of whatever twisted nightmare this is."

"Didn't you?" She stopped a few feet in front of me, tilting her head. "You came to that mansion. You stepped into the fire without realizing it."

I swallowed. "I was trying to have fun."

"And now you're here," she murmured, "where survival is not guaranteed."

The words sent a chill through me.

Vladimir chuckled. "Must you always be so ominous, Celeste?"

She ignored him. "Follow me."

I didn't move.

Vladimir touched the small of my back. "Go on, little star."

I jerked away from his touch, shooting him a glare before reluctantly following Celeste through the grand hall.

Celeste led me through a maze of corridors, each one lined with paintings too old to belong to any modern era. The walls seemed to hum with something ancient. Whispers of power. Of blood spilled over centuries.

Then we stopped.

A door loomed before us—dark mahogany, reinforced with iron. Celeste pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit chamber. A long table sat at the center, covered in faded documents, maps, and books whose spines had long since cracked.

At the far end of the room stood a man I hadn't noticed at first.

Broad shoulders. A face carved from stone. Silver-streaked hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He exuded power, the kind that didn't need to be spoken to be felt.

His cold eyes met mine.

"So," he said, voice deep and unwavering. "You're the girl we've been waiting for."

I stiffened. "Who the hell are you?"

Vladimir stepped beside me, looking bored. "Kaira, meet Darius. He's good at knowing secrets."

I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of secrets?"

Darius studied me for a moment, then walked to the table, fingers brushing over an old parchment. "The kind you were never supposed to learn."

He lifted the paper and turned it toward me.

A family tree.

And at the bottom—written in ink so old it had browned with time—was my name.

My real name.

"Kaira Valerian."

I froze.

Valerian.

That wasn't my last name. That wasn't who I was.

Darius watched my reaction closely. "Your parents didn't die in an accident."

I already knew that. But hearing it aloud still made my stomach twist.

"They were murdered," he continued. "Because of their bloodline. Because of you."

I took a shaky breath. "Why?"

He placed the parchment back on the table. "Because the Valerians are the last of the Luminaries. And your blood is the key to power no one should have."

The word echoed in my mind. Luminaries. Was that what I was?? A luminary? The powers in veins was because I am a luminary?

I turned to Vladimir, my pulse hammering. "You knew, didn't you?"

His expression was unreadable. "I suspected."

I clenched my fists. "And you didn't think I deserved to know?"

Vladimir's voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "Would it have changed anything?"

Yes. No. I didn't know.

But one thing was clear— I had been a target since the day I was born. Every lesson Aunt Elena had taught me. Every warning. Every moment she made me train instead of live a normal life—it had all been for this. For them.

For the ones who murdered my family.

My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. My blood thrummed beneath my skin, a quiet hum of power that I felt more than understood.

Vladimir watched me carefully, his expression unreadable.

Darius turned another page on the table, his voice steady. "Your parents tried to keep you hidden, but the blood that runs through your veins is impossible to erase. The Shadow Order knew you would surface eventually."

The Shadow Order.

The name burned like venom in my mind.

The people who had killed Aunt Elena.

The people who had tried to kill me.

And the ones still hunting me now.

I lifted my chin, forcing my voice to stay steady. "If they're coming for me, then I'll stop them first."

Darius let out a quiet, almost amused exhale. "Your power is unstable. Uncontrolled. If you tried to fight them now, you wouldn't last long."

I hated how easily he dismissed me. As if I was a helpless little girl.

As if I wasn't ready to burn the world down.

Vladimir moved closer, his presence a shadow against my side. "That's why you're here, little star," he murmured. "To learn how to wield what's yours."

I turned sharply. "I don't need your help."

His lips curled, but his gaze was dark. "You will."

The worst part?

He wasn't wrong.

Because no matter how much I hated Vladimir—no matter how much I wanted to escape this place—I knew one thing for certain.

I wasn't ready.

Not yet.

But I would be.

And when I was, the Shadow Order would regret ever letting me live.

Darius studied me for a moment longer, then nodded to Celeste. "Take her to her quarters."

Celeste arched a delicate brow but didn't argue.

As she turned to leave, I hesitated, looking back at the documents on the table.

I still didn't have all the answers.

But I had enough to know one thing.

My past was a lie.

And my future?

It was war.

Celeste led me through a labyrinth of dim corridors, her footsteps silent against the polished stone floors.

I kept my head high, my spine straight, refusing to let her—or anyone—see how much I was reeling inside.

Finally, she stopped in front of a door.

A black door.

No handle. No visible lock. Only an intricate pattern carved into the wood—shifting, swirling, like shadows trapped in motion.

Celeste placed her palm against the surface. "Blood," she said simply.

I stared at her. "Excuse me?"