The commercial street is a riot of noise and silk. Yulia stands before a glass window, her eyes fixed on rows of shimmering, colorful candies.

She has the sugar for the tea. But she lingers, her fingers tracing the glass. He likes honey... maybe he likes these too?

"Beautiful lady," a voice purrs from the shadows of the shop door. "Why not come inside?"

Yulia turns, her hand drifting toward the magic circuit at her waist.

A man's voice rasped behind Yulia.

She spun, her breath catching as her eyes locked onto pupils the color of a summer wildfire. Curly hair brushed his shoulders, his skin a deathly, lightless pale against lips red as fresh blood.

He smiled, a dark vortex swirling in those crimson eyes. "For a lady this elegant, I'd offer sweets or gold without a second thought."

Yulia took a cautious step back, her boots scraping the pavement as she put distance between them. "I... I just remembered I have a thing. Busy. Bye."

Run. Now, or I'm dead.

He ignored her. His hand darted forward with a predator's grace, plucking the milk tea from her pocket. He inhaled the scent, then took a long, slow gulp.

Clatter.

The half-full cup hit the dirt, spilling cream and tea across the stones. "Disgusting."

His gaze crawled back to her face. His hand rose, cold fingers trailing down her cheek. "Only the sweet scent of a God-favored one attracts me..."

The ice-cold touch settled on her pulse. He leaned in, his breath a phantom's murmur against her ear. "Such a delicious aroma... Little beauty, how much does your God love you?"

Yulia stood rigid, locked in place by an invisible weight. She stared at the familiar face, her expression a mask of silent calculation.

I don't know about God's love... but you just trashed a God's tea and called it trash. You are about to get a divine beating, Adela Crest.

Adela dragged her into the depths of the Wind-Kissed Forest. The carved wooden doors of the ancient castle groaned open. Candles flared to life in his wake, chandeliers illuminating the dead silence of the Great Hall.

He carried her to the highest room and dropped her onto a coffin.

Moonlight through the window hit Yulia's skin, turning the porcelain pale into a fragile crimson where he gripped her. Adela watched the blood thrumming beneath her neck, his eyes bright with a jagged hunger.

"You don't look afraid," he said, his voice a low velvet. "Do you know who I am?"

Yulia stared back, her expression flat. I've beaten your route eight hundred times. I know exactly what you are.

"Never saw you before," she lied, her voice hollow. "I'm actually terrified. My face just doesn't move much."

Adela's grip tightened. "I am Adela Veblen Reid Crest." He forced her chin up, locking her into his gaze. "The source of all vampiric power. The Progenitor. Your new owner. Remember that name."

Yulia sighed. "That's going to be a problem."

"I'm not being rude," she added as his brow furrowed. "Anything over two syllables just... slips out of my head."

Adela? Aladdin? Arale?

She shook her head. She'd tried.

Adela looked at her, his face a mix of confusion and irritation. He was weak; centuries of sleep without fresh blood had stripped him of nine-tenths of his power.

He had followed the scent of a God-favored girl, expecting a lamb for the slaughter. Instead, he found a girl who watched him like he was a disappointing math problem.

"What is your name?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Lillia."

"Your surname?"

"Commoners don't have those, Lord Vampire."

Adela's lips curled. He twined a lock of her golden-sand hair around his finger. "A true commoner doesn't have hair that shines like elf-dust."

He leaned in, his fangs lengthening. "It might hurt. But only for a moment. Close your eyes... I'll give you a sweet dream."

Squelch.

The fangs stopped inches from her skin. Adela looked down. Yulia's hand was steady, the hilt of a light-magic blade buried in his chest.

"I searched you," he rasped, his eyes wide.

"It's not a dagger," Yulia said, her voice shaking but certain. "It's a Wound spell. Basic light magic."

She shoved him back and scrambled off the coffin, her boots thudding against the floor.

"You just escaped your seal," she said, backing toward the door. "You're picky. You won't touch common blood. You're weak."

Adela touched the blood on his chest, his face unnervingly calm. "Clever girl. You know me too well."

Yulia didn't wait for a rebuttal. She sprinted for the stairs.

Four vampire princes stood in the hall below, their formal attire stark against the shadows. Yulia didn't hesitate. She threw her hands forward, the magic circuit burning at her fingertips.

"Fire Storm!"

Flames erupted in the moonlit hall. The vampire princes, caught off guard by the high-tier divine magic, burned as Yulia bolted through the ancient doors.

She sprinted across the Gryphon Plains, her breath hitching in her chest. The sound of heavy, predatory paws thudded against the grass behind her, following the rustle of leaves.

"Running fast, little beauty." Adela Crest appeared like a phantom, blocking her path in a blur of motion. His pale face caught the moonlight, red eyes glowing with a jagged, predatory light.

"If I were alone, you might have made it," Adela whispered, his voice a cold silk thread. "But you're sixteen... and my princes have hunted for a thousand years".

Yulia stood in the center of the circle, her chest heaving. The linen dress Caerus had called "hideous" was now shredded by thorns and stained with mud and blood.

She stared at her torn sleeves, imagining Caerus's brow knotting with a familiar, lethal annoyance. He would have hauled her to the springs by now, tossing a silk gown at her head with a look of pure disdain.

Yulia forced her face into a mask of boredom, smoothing her ruined skirts. If I'm going to die out here without anyone noticing, that's just pathetic.

"Caught me. My luck ran out," Yulia said, her voice flat and devoid of fear. "So... what's the plan?"

Adela stepped forward, the wound in his chest already sealed by the moon's power . "You know the answer. No vampire can refuse blood favored by a god".