Chapter Four: The Aphelions

Myra was pissed.

Not just because some random boy had stolen a kiss from her, but because she had been waiting for the Aphelions for nearly ten minutes. The grand hall was eerily silent, save for the distant ticking of an ornate grandfather clock. Chandeliers cast flickering light across the polished marble floor, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment, candle wax, and something faintly metallic—blood, perhaps, lingering in the very foundations of the Aphelion estate.

She exhaled sharply, drumming her fingers against her thigh. Despite her frustration, curiosity gnawed at her. The Aphelions weren't just any vampires—they were the heads of one of the most powerful tribes in the vampiric world. Their influence stretched far beyond their own kind, seeping into the human world like ink bleeding through parchment. Their name was synonymous with wealth, with ironclad authority, and, more notably, with Suzerain Damien of Greece.

Finally, the heavy oak doors creaked open, the sound echoing through the cavernous space.

A tall man with dark hair, streaked with striking magenta highlights, stepped inside. The moment he entered, the atmosphere shifted, thickening like a storm on the horizon. His aura pressed against her senses, an overwhelming presence of power wrapped in the faint scent of petrichor and old wine. Myra knew immediately—this was Lord Aphelion. His sharp gaze flicked over her, his golden eyes gleaming like molten amber beneath the candlelight.

A moment later, his wife followed. Lady Aphelion was a vision in a deep sapphire gown, her golden hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders. But Myra barely had time to register her beauty before pain lanced through her chest.

She sucked in a breath, staggering back. A thousand invisible daggers drove into her ribs, twisting deeper with every heartbeat. The agony was searing—like molten silver pouring through her veins, burning her from the inside out. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as she fought to stay upright.

What the hell is this?

The room tilted, shadows swaying like specters at the edge of her vision. Every muscle in her body screamed for relief, but she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, refusing to show weakness. Not here. Not now.

A voice cut through the haze.

"Aunt Maddie, are you okay?"

Lisa's voice.

Myra forced her eyes open, vision swimming. Lady Aphelion stood frozen, her face pale—too pale, even for a vampire. Her brown eyes shimmered with something Myra couldn't place. Shock? Fear? Grief?

The pain in Myra's chest ebbed slightly, enough for her to focus. Was this because of her?

"It's nothing," Lady Aphelion murmured. Yet, before Myra could react, the woman stepped closer, her gaze locked onto hers with unsettling intensity.

"You look so much like Winter," she whispered, the words barely audible.

A shiver traced Myra's spine. Before she could respond, cool fingers cupped her cheek.

She stiffened.

She was used to this kind of reaction from her father, but not from a stranger.

"You knew my mother?" Myra's voice came out quieter than she intended.

Lady Aphelion nodded. "Yes, she was my best friend."

Myra frowned. That didn't make sense. Her mother had never mentioned a best friend, and she certainly didn't recall seeing a blonde woman at the funeral.

"What kind of best friend misses her friend's funeral?" Myra asked bluntly.

Lady Aphelion flinched. A shadow flickered across her expression before she responded, her voice laced with regret. "I didn't come because I didn't know she had died. I only found out five months later."

Silence thickened between them.

Then, as if trying to soften the moment, Lady Aphelion pinched her cheek gently.

"You know, the last time I saw you two, you were so tiny," she said with a faint smile.

But something about her expression unsettled Myra.

The pain had dulled, yet instinct told her—this wasn't just about her mother's death. Lady Aphelion was hiding something.

Before she could press further, Lord Aphelion spoke.

"It must have been a long journey. I hope you didn't experience any trouble along the way?"

Myra wanted to say yes, wanted to tell him about the human boy who had stolen a kiss from her only hours ago, but instead, she simply shook her head.

"Good," he said, his voice smooth yet firm. "I'm sure you're all exhausted. Marcus will show you to your rooms."

Myra nodded and turned to follow the butler, but not before stealing one last glance at Lady Aphelion.

She was smiling again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Myra would find out the truth.

No matter what.

---

Later That Night

Madeline Aphelion wiped her tears away with trembling fingers.

Soft sobs filled the dimly lit room, the only other sound the distant howling of wind beyond the walls. She felt warm arms wrapped her from behind, the scent of leather, pine, and something distinctly Sebastian grounding her. She leaned into him, exhaling shakily.

"I thought you said you wouldn't cry anymore," Sebastian murmured against her hair.

How could she not?

"She's back," Maddie whispered, voice breaking. She turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. The moment their eyes locked, fresh tears spilled over, hot against her cold skin.

Sebastian's grip tightened. He had spent centuries by her side, but nothing pained him more than seeing her like this—broken, vulnerable, afraid.

"What if they take her away again?" she choked out.

Sebastian's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "That's never going to happen," he swore, his voice lethal. "We're going to protect her."

No matter what.

---

Morning

The warmth of the sun brushed against Myra's skin, coaxing her from sleep. The mattress beneath her was softer than clouds, the silk sheets cool against her limbs. She groaned, rolling onto her side, attempting to sink back into slumber—

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

A soft, sweet voice shattered the quiet.

Myra's eyes snapped open, pupils adjusting to the golden glow of daylight filtering through embroidered curtains. A blonde-haired woman with magenta streaks stood beside her bed, smiling.

Ugh! Guess she's a morning person.

"Lady Aphelion?" Myra sat up, rubbing a hand over her face, fingers catching in her tangled hair.

Unlike yesterday, the woman seemed... lighter. Happier.

"Come on, get ready and come have lunch," Maddie said cheerfully.

Myra blinked. "Lunch?"

How long had she been asleep?

Maddie chuckled, turning toward the door. "Oh, and stop calling me Lady Aphelion. Call me Maddie."

The name rolled off Myra's tongue strangely. "Maddie."

It felt... familiar.

Maddie's smile widened. "I'll be going then."

Myra watched her leave, unease curling in her stomach. Something about her still didn't sit right.

Myra sighed, maybe it was because this was her first time meeting a turned, a vampire who was once human. Her blonde hair and beating heart gave it away. The only vampires with beating heads where the turneds and halflings. Purebloods had dead hearts, well pure that weren't her.

Myra sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door long after Maddie had left. The faint scent of lavender and something distinctly floral—perhaps lilacs—still lingered in the air, a reminder of the woman's presence.

She ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching on tangles as she tried to shake off the strange feeling Maddie left behind. There was something unsettling about the way she smiled, something almost… desperate. Like she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

A sigh escaped her lips as she pushed herself up. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, sending a slight shiver up her spine. She padded toward the window, drawing the heavy, dark curtains aside just enough to let a sliver of sunlight filter into the dim room.

Outside, the Aphelion estate stretched out before her—a vast expanse of towering trees, meticulously maintained gardens, and a sprawling courtyard paved with black stones that gleamed faintly in the daylight. The entire place had an eerie beauty to it, a haunting sort of elegance that felt both welcoming and forebodind.

Typical Romania mansion.

Typical vampires.

She pulled away from the window and made her way to the wardrobe. The dark mahogany doors creaked slightly as she opened them, revealing an array of finely made clothes. Most of them were in deep shades of red, black, and navy—fitting for a family as powerful as the Aphelions. She hesitated before selecting a simple black dress, slipping it on and smoothing out the fabric.

A soft knock at the door made her pause.

"My Lady," a voice called from the other side. It was Marcus, the butler from yesterday. "The Aphelions are waiting for you."

Myra exhaled, then opened the door.

Marcus inclined his head respectfully before stepping aside to let her pass. As she followed him through the halls, the scent of aged wood and faintly burning candles filled the air. The hallway was eerily silent except for the distant echo of footsteps—hers and Marcus's—as they moved through.

By the time they reached the dining hall, most of the Aphelions were already seated.

She immediately noticed a blonde-haired boy sitting in front of Maddie. Given the resemblance, he had to be Nathan Aphelion, their second son. His golden hair had the same magenta streaks as his father's, but his face held a striking sharpness that made him look both regal and detached.

He gave her a polite nod. "Good afternoon, Lady Thorn."

Myra arched a brow. Lady Thorn?

"I apologize for not greeting you yesterday," he continued, his tone smooth yet distant. "But I hope you'll allow me to take care of you while you stay here."

His words were oddly formal, almost rehearsed. Myra narrowed her eyes slightly but nodded.

"I put myself in your care, then."

Maddie suddenly clapped her hands together, the sound sharp against the quiet tension in the room.

"Enough with the chit-chat. Tell us, Myra—what do you plan on doing next?"

Myra didn't hesitate. "I plan to find Dracula and ask him to stop tormenting the Thorns."

Nathan's jaw tensed. "I heard he stopped supplying blood to Thorns. It's led to multiple bloodlust incidents. Many have died."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Myra clenched her fists beneath the table. The word bloodlust made her stomach twist.

She had seen it before—the madness that took hold when a vampire was starved for too long. The way their eyes lost focus, their bodies moved on instinct alone, their screams turning into mindless, guttural growls. She had seen them tear into their own kin, had seen them be cut down before they could come back to themselves.

Some recovered. Some didn't.

And those who didn't… had to be put down.

Maddie sighed. "Mr. Harrison's daughter is hosting a masquerade ball in two weeks. I heard Dracula will be there. You can come with us."

For a moment, Myra almost smiled.

This was perfect.

"Thank you, Maddie," she said.

Maddie reached over and gently patted her head.

"You don't have to thank me," she murmured. "You're like a daughter to me."

Myra froze.

Then, slowly, she exhaled.

She would find Dracula.

And she would end this.