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Leek jolted awake, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His chest heaved, and his crimson eyes glowed faintly in the darkness of his chamber. The dream still clung to him like smoke, suffocating and vivid.

He was back in the burning field. The flames roared around him, crackling like an unholy symphony. Across the inferno, the woman stood, her green eyes piercing through the chaos. She raised her hand, as if reaching for him, her lips parting as though she was about to speak.

But then, as always, the dream ended abruptly. She disappeared, leaving only the searing heat and an unbearable void in her wake.

Leek swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the cold marble floor. He pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to calm the storm raging within him. The dreams were becoming more frequent, more intense. And they were driving him mad.

As he sat there, his keen senses prickled. He wasn't alone.

The room was cloaked in shadows, but his heightened vision caught movement—a faint ripple in the darkness. His hand instinctively reached for the dagger under his pillow.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice low and lethal.

There was no response, but the sensation of being watched intensified. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

With a flick of his wrist, he lit the ornate lamp on his bedside table. The sudden burst of light flooded the room, chasing away the shadows.

But there was no one there.

Leek rose to his feet, scanning every corner of the chamber. His gaze darted to the window, where the moonlight spilled in like liquid silver.

And then he saw it.

An owl perched on the stone ledge, its amber eyes glowing unnaturally bright. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Leek felt an unsettling intelligence in the creature's stare. Before he could react, the owl dropped something onto the sill—a small, rolled-up piece of parchment—and flew off into the night.

Leek strode to the window, his sharp eyes tracking the bird until it vanished into the darkness. He picked up the parchment, his fingers brushing against the coarse material.

Unrolling it, he read the words scrawled across it in jagged handwriting:

"I HAVE THE HEIRESS WITH ME, YOU FOOL. MEET ME AT THE BORDERS IF YOU WANT TO CLAIM HER."

The blood in his veins turned to ice.

The heiress.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. The words blurred and shifted before his eyes, but the meaning was unmistakable. Someone had her. The woman from his dreams, the one he didn't even know was real, was now a pawn in a dangerous game.

Leek clenched his jaw, his mind racing. There was no signature, no indication of who had sent the message. But his instincts screamed one name: Kael.

Kael, the cunning and ruthless heir of the Woo Lee Clan. His rival, his nemesis. The one who had spent centuries scheming to undermine him at every turn. If Kael had the heiress, it wasn't just a personal threat—it was a declaration of war.

Leek crushed the parchment in his hand, his fury barely contained.

---

Leek's footsteps echoed through the empty halls as he made his way to his private armory. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: anger, confusion, and an inexplicable sense of urgency.

He had never even met the heiress. She was nothing more than a myth, a figure whispered about in hushed tones. And yet, the thought of her being in Kael's hands filled him with a protective rage he couldn't explain.

Reaching the armory, he paused. His reflection stared back at him from a polished steel mirror, and for a moment, he didn't recognize himself. The normally composed and calculating ruler of the V-clan looked… shaken.

His crimson eyes burned with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense.

"Why does this matter so much to me?" he muttered, his voice barely audible.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Now wasn't the time for self-reflection. He needed answers, and he needed them fast.

---

By the time Leek reached his study, he had regained some of his composure. He summoned Karth, his most trusted sentinel, and handed him the parchment.

"Find out where this came from," Leek ordered, his voice icy. "And don't come back until you have an answer."

Karth nodded, his expression grim. "Yes, my lord."

As the sentinel disappeared into the shadows, Leek sank into his chair, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He couldn't shake the image of the woman from his dreams—the way she had looked at him, as if she knew him.

And now, she was real.

Leek's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pain in his chest, a sharp, twisting sensation that stole his breath. He gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.

For a fleeting moment, he felt something he hadn't felt in centuries: fear.

Whoever this heiress was, she had become more than just a figment of his imagination. She was a threat, a mystery, and, perhaps, his destiny.

And he wasn't sure which terrified him more.