The Blood Queen

“To hold a book is like holding the world in the palm of your hands.

To read the book, however, is like exploring multiple worlds and dimensions; like meeting great minds and passionate people through your imagination.”

— EmpressNico

All the Blacksmith children hated that day.

It was supposed to be the beginning of a week-long family vacation at their grandmother’s enormous, ancient manor—the place Grandma Isadora fondly called home.

It was supposed to be fun.

A week away from school. A week of family, food, arguments, games, and probably enough chaos to drive their parents insane.

Instead, something was waiting for them.

Something big.

Something that would change their lives forever.

As her father drove toward the manor, Hurricane let out a long, heavy sigh and turned the volume on her phone higher. A slow, sleepy song played through her earphones, its rhythm almost matching the heaviness settling in her chest.

She stared out the window.

The weather had turned strangely ominous.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, swallowing patches of blue sky as the road stretched toward the old estate. The trees bent slightly beneath the restless wind, their leaves whispering against one another.

Hurricane frowned.

It was ridiculous, really.

It almost felt as though the weather was trying to tell her something.

Something bad is going to happen.

The thought slipped into her mind so naturally that it unsettled her.

She gave a small, bitter smile at herself.

What a sinister thought.

She turned the music up another notch, deliberately drowning the thought beneath the melody.

Beside her, Cyclone was having an entirely different kind of problem.

He had already grown bored with the war simulation game on his phone.

The game was called Saga Wars, something he’d recently spent a ridiculous amount of money buying from the app store. Fortunately, the money had come from profits he’d earned selling items from another game, so at least he hadn’t touched his actual savings.

Otherwise, he would’ve been furious.

Not because he’d lost.

Quite the opposite.

He kept winning.

Every battle tactic he tried worked.

Every strategy was predictable.

Every enemy behaved exactly the way the game expected them to.

Cyclone stared at the screen with growing disappointment.

“This is supposed to be a war game?”

He sighed.

The problem was that real battles couldn’t possibly be this predictable.

Real enemies wouldn’t politely wait for you to execute your favorite strategy. They’d adapt. They’d surprise you. They’d make mistakes. You’d make mistakes.

Now that would be interesting.

He leaned back against the seat.

Honestly, he wouldn’t mind standing on an actual battlefield right now.

At least then things wouldn’t be so boring.

In another car, four girls were packed together in the backseat, surrounded by snacks their parents had supplied for the trip.

They had been perfectly content.

That lasted until Yellow Blacksmith asked the question again.

“Are we near there yet?”

Four groans answered her.

Yellow had been asking the same question every hour or so for most of the trip.

Whenever she wasn’t asking how much longer they had to go, she was either singing at the top of her lungs or finding new and creative ways to annoy her sisters.

Aquamarine finally turned toward her.

“Come on, Yellow. Snap out of it. If you’d stop being a brat for five seconds and actually look outside, you’d notice we’re already here.”

Yellow blinked.

Then she looked out the window.

A sheepish smile spread across her face.

She winked at Aqua.

Aquamarine rolled her eyes.

Of the four girls, Yellow and Aquamarine were the closest. Their smaller age gap and similar interests made them natural partners in crime.

Although that certainly didn’t mean they couldn’t drive each other insane.

A few moments later, the car pulled up near the manor.

“Hey, looks like everybody’s here already!”

Their father stepped out and walked toward his brother.

“Hey, Ced!”

Almost immediately, the adults gathered together.

There were greetings, questions about work, updates about family, and the inevitable business conversations that somehow managed to follow the adults everywhere.

The children, meanwhile, were far more interested in each other.

Or, more accurately, in deciding whether they actually wanted to interact with each other.

Emman had other plans.

The ten-year-old cautiously made his way toward the old manor with his little sister, Lucy, trailing beside him.

“Emman? What are we doing here?”

Lucy clung to his arm as they approached the enormous gates.

The manor loomed beyond them, old and silent, its architecture made even more unsettling by the gloomy weather.

Lucy shivered.

“Shh,” Emman whispered. “Don’t be a scaredy-cat, Lucy. We’re just exploring.”

His voice sounded confident.

His knees disagreed.

They were already shaking.

Still, he smiled at his sister and tried to pry her fingers loose from his arm.

He was about to push the gates open when—

“BOOOOOOOOOO!”

Emman nearly jumped out of his skin.

Jethro and Jullian burst into laughter.

For one terrifying second, Emman’s heart seemed to stop.

He nearly cried.

No.

He swallowed hard.

I’m not going to do that.

He was ten years old.

He was a big boy.

So instead, he tightened his grip around Lucy’s hands and turned toward the twins.

“Why’d you do that?!”

His voice came out louder than expected.

That only made the twins grin wider.

Their expressions mirrored each other so perfectly it was almost unsettling.

“Did you hear that, Jet?” Jullian said, looking at her brother. “Nerd here says he wants to explore Granny’s spooky house.”

“Oh, really?”

Jethro tilted his head.

“It seems our little nerd is finally growing a backbone.”

He beckoned Emman over.

Emman hesitated.

Part of him wanted to run.

Another part desperately wanted to wipe that smug expression off Jethro’s face.

But they were older.

And despite everything, he still respected that.

So he stayed where he was.

Jethro and Jullian were nineteen-year-old twins and, by most family standards, absolute menaces.

They were reckless.

Devious.

They loved teasing people.

And they were very, very good at getting away with it.

Most of the younger cousins had learned to keep their distance whenever the twins looked particularly pleased with themselves.

Emman had learned that lesson the hard way.

He glanced at Lucy.

“Go find Yellow.”

Lucy immediately frowned.

“But—”

“Go.”

His tone was clipped.

Lucy didn’t move.

She looked ready to argue, cry, or alert their parents.

Then she saw the determination on her brother’s face.

She sighed.

We’d be in bigger trouble if I snitch on them.

Reluctantly, she let go of Emman’s hand and headed back toward the others.

Emman watched her go.

He felt a little relieved.

At least Lucy wouldn’t have to watch him get pummeled.

Or threatened.

Or humiliated.

He turned back toward the twins.

He hadn’t seen his cousins in almost four years. Living in another state had kept them apart for a long time, and that distance hadn’t exactly made him more comfortable around these two.

If anything, it made them harder to predict.

You never knew what they were planning.

With these two around, double trouble didn’t even begin to cover it.

“W-why?”

His voice faltered.

Jullian chuckled.

“Why are you so scared, nerd? Are you really that afraid of us?”

Emman glared at them.

Jethro laughed.

Then, just as quickly, he stopped.

“Enough of that, will you?”

He shot Jullian a brief look before turning back to Emman.

“Sorry, Emman. We were only playing.”

Emman blinked.

That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.

Jethro gave him an apologetic smile.

“Okay, whoa. Easy, monkey. Honestly, we’re just wondering why Granny’s house seems so dead silent.”

He gestured toward the manor.

“It’s almost…”

He looked toward the windows.

“Vacant.”

Emman’s suspicion returned.

He followed them toward the house.

The closer they got, the stranger the silence felt.

Jethro peeked through the windows.

The blinds were open.

No movement.

No lights.

No familiar faces.

“No one seems to be around,” he said.

“Excellent observation,” Jullian replied sarcastically.

The twins were already gearing up for another argument when Emman stepped forward.

He raised his hand toward the door.

He was about to knock.

The door creaked open on its own.

All three froze.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Jethro looked at Jullian.

“Jul…”

He swallowed.

“What now?”

Jullian stared into the dark opening.

“Do we go in?”

Jullian nodded.

Then, without another word, she stepped inside.

Jethro and Emman exchanged a glance before following.

“Granny Isadora?”

Jullian’s voice echoed through the entrance hall.

“Where are you?”

She headed upstairs, checking one room after another.

Jethro and Emman searched downstairs.

Living room.

Dining area.

Kitchen.

Lounge.

Even the small greenhouse attached to the house.

Nothing.

Nobody.

Not even a servant.

Jethro’s expression slowly changed.

Where was everybody?

Even the servants were gone?

It didn’t make sense.

Their grandmother was seventy years old. She couldn’t simply disappear without anyone knowing.

And why would she leave?

Why would she take all the servants with her?

The questions piled up faster than he could answer them.

“Did you find anything?” Jullian called.

Jethro and Emman shook their heads.

“It’s a dead end, Jul.”

Jethro looked around the silent house.

“A dead end and a whole bunch of questions.”

His usual joking tone had disappeared.

“Honestly… this doesn’t feel good.”

“I know.”

Jullian’s voice was quieter now.

Emman looked between them.

“What do we do now?”

Jullian stared toward the empty hallway.

Then she answered simply.

“We tell the parents.”

And for the first time since they arrived, none of them joked.