Chapter 15:House of shadows 2

Celeste barely spared me a glance. "The door is warded. It only answers to your blood."

My pulse thrummed. Of course it did. Everything in this cursed place seemed to revolve around my blood. My cursed, dangerous, Luminary blood. I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me not to do this—not to willingly spill my own blood for something I didn't understand. But what choice did I have?

Celeste arched a brow. "Would you rather sleep in the hall?"

I glared at her, then exhaled sharply. Fine. Whatever. I lifted my wrist to my mouth and bit down, wincing as the sharp tang of iron filled my mouth. A single drop of crimson welled to the surface, trickling down my palm.

The moment it hit the wood, the carvings came alive. Shadows slithered and coiled like living things, unfurling in patterns I couldn't decipher. Then, with a deep, resonating click, the door creaked open.

Celeste gave a satisfied nod. "It knows you now."

I didn't bother answering as I stepped inside.

The room was… unexpected, not a dungeon. Not a gilded cage. Just a room. A massive four-poster bed, dark velvet drapes, bookshelves lining the walls. A fireplace crackled with low embers, casting flickering shadows against the stone. It was unsettlingly warm. Almost… welcoming.

I turned back to Celeste, suspicious. "What's the catch?"

She smiled, slow and knowing. "No catch. But the door only opens for you now. No one else."

That should have been a relief. It wasn't.

Celeste studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Get some rest, Kaira. Tomorrow, your training begins."

With that, she turned and left, the door sealing behind her like it had never existed at all.

Silence settled around me. Heavy. Unrelenting, I dragged a hand through my hair and sank onto the edge of the bed, my mind still whirling. The weight of everything pressed down on me.

My past was a lie.

My blood was a curse.

And I was now trapped in a house full of monsters, training for a war I never asked for.

But the worst part?

The part that made my stomach twist in ways I didn't want to admit?

Vladimir had been right.

I did need their help.

Because I wasn't ready now.

But soon….Soon, I would be.

And when I was?

The Shadow Order wouldn't stand a chance.They'd pay for everything they took from me.

Sleep didn't come easily.

I lay in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a storm of unanswered questions. The weight of the past few days pressed into my chest—Aunt Elena's death, the attack, my blood magic awakening, and now this… this place. I couldn't trust anyone yet, I know Vladimir isn't telling me everything. I can't trust anything he's telling me for all I know he might be lying, I don't even know what he is I just know he's not completely human, he can't be not with the way he carries himself and the authority he commands.I need to find a way out of this place, I need to go to the cabin like my aunt asked me to, I'll find my way from there. This place was a fortress wrapped in shadows. A prison, no matter how comfortable it seemed.

Eventually, exhaustion won. I drifted into uneasy sleep, haunted by dreams of blood and fire, of faceless figures whispering my name.

And in the darkest part of the dream, there was him.

Vladimir.

His voice, low and coaxing. You are mine, little star.

I jolted awake, my pulse hammering. The fire had burned lower, casting only faint embers. The room was silent. Too silent.

Something was wrong.

I sat up, heart pounding, straining to listen. A shift in the air. A whisper of movement. Then—

A sharp crack.

I barely had time to react before the darkness exploded around me.

Shadows writhed, alive and clawing. Hands—cold, unnatural—grasped at my limbs. I thrashed, kicking, struggling against invisible force. My breath hitched as something yanked me from the bed, dragging me toward the wall—no, not a wall—

A void.

A gaping, endless blackness splitting the stone, as if reality itself was unraveling.Panic surged. My magic roared to life in my veins, responding instinctively. Heat flared beneath my skin, sharp and electric, and I pushed.

A burst of crimson light shot outward, flinging the shadows back. The darkness screeched, twisting, reforming.

The spell hadn't been meant to kill me.

It had been meant to take me.

A kidnapping. An extraction.

Someone inside this fortress had let them in.

The moment I realized it, the door to my room slammed open. A blur of movement—Vladimir. Eyes glowing like molten silver, his presence a force that seemed to suck the oxygen from the room.

With a single command, the darkness froze.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, it shattered.

The unnatural void collapsed in on itself, vanishing as if it had never been there. The room settled back into eerie stillness, save for my ragged breathing.

Vladimir turned to me, his expression carved from ice. "Are you hurt?"

I swallowed hard, still feeling the ghostly touch of whatever had grabbed me. "I—no. I don't think so."

His gaze darkened as he scanned the room. "Someone let them in."

I already knew.

A spy. A traitor.

Inside this house.

My blood was still thrumming, magic simmering beneath my skin. The realization sent a chill through me. They weren't going to stop.

Vladimir's voice was softer when he spoke again. "Come."

I hesitated. "Where?"

His smirk was humorless. "If someone wants to steal you from under my nose, they're going to have to try a hell of a lot harder." His voice dropped, a promise of violence beneath it.

"You're staying in my room from now on."

My breath caught. "Like hell I am—"

But he was already moving, already expecting me to follow.

And against every stubborn bone in my body, I did.Because no matter how much I didn't trust him—

I trusted the rest of this place even less.

And if someone wanted me dead?

They were going to have to get through Vladimir first.

Vladimir's chambers were exactly what I should have expected—dark, grand, and intimidating as hell.

A massive fireplace cast flickering gold across the high stone walls, lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes. A sleek black desk sat near a towering window, half-covered in scattered papers and an old dagger that looked well used.

And at the center of it all—

The bed.

It was ridiculous. Massive. Draped in dark silk, like something out of a gothic fever dream.

I hovered near the doorway, arms crossed, every instinct telling me this was a terrible idea.

"You're staring," Vladimir said, amusement lacing his voice as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves.

I snapped my gaze away from the bed. "I'm assessing."

He chuckled, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms, revealing corded muscle and veins that traced up his pale skin like faint lightning. "Assess all you want, little star. You're staying here, whether you like it or not."

I scowled. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Vladimir arched a brow. "You'll try to sleep on the floor. And then you'll wake up in the bed anyway." He stepped closer, voice dipping low. "Because I will put you there."

Heat crawled up my spine. "You are insufferable."

"And yet," he murmured, "I'm the only thing standing between you and another assassination attempt."

I hated that he was right.

Hated that the thought of that thing dragging me away still made my skin crawl.

Vladimir watched me, sharp gaze missing nothing. "Get some rest. I won't let anyone touch you."

There was something dangerous in the way he said it. A promise wrapped in something darker.

I turned away, gripping the edge of a nearby chair instead of responding.

Vladimir sighed. "Suit yourself." Then, in one smooth motion, he dropped onto the bed, reclining against the headboard like he owned the world.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. I ignored him, choosing instead to sit stiffly in the chair, arms crossed.

The fire crackled. Silence stretched.

Minutes passed.

Then—softly, too soft for any normal human to hear—

"You're safe here, Kaira."

Something in my chest tightened.

I didn't know if I believed him.

But for the first time in days, I let myself close my eyes. Just for a moment.

I woke to the sound of rain against the window, for a moment, I forgot where I was. The bed beneath me was too soft, the air too still. No hum of the city. No scent of warm bread from the bakery.

Just stone. Candlewax. And something faintly metallic lingering in the air.

Blood, why did this place smell like blood?,reality settled in like a weight on my chest.

I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The events of the past few days swam in my head—Aunt Elena's death, the attack, the truth about my blood. The fact that I had been dragged into this cursed house filled with people who knew more about me than I did.

And Vladimir.

I scowled at the thought of him. Smug. Infuriating. Dangerous. He really did put me in the bed. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold beneath my feet, sending a shiver up my spine. Someone had left clothes for me at the end of the bed—a dark tunic, fitted pants, and boots that looked like they had been made for running, not comfort.

I didn't like what that implied.

A knock sounded at the door

I tensed. "What?"

Celeste's smooth voice slipped through the wood. "You're needed downstairs."

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself. "Why?"

A pause. Then—"Because the Shadow Order is already looking for you."