The Blood Crown

Veyr Academy's first rule was simple.

Never show weakness.

Unfortunately, Lyra Vance had been breaking that rule since the day she arrived.

“Try again.”

Lyra stared at the boy standing across from her in the academy courtyard.

“That's the third time you've said that.”

“And you've failed three times.”

"Then perhaps you should find a more interesting hobby than counting my failures.”

A few students nearby laughed.

Cassian Rook didn't.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and blessed with the kind of effortless confidence that came from being born into an old vampire family. A faint red glow flickered between his fingers as he summoned a small sphere of blood magic.

Lyra looked at it.

Then at him.

“Are you going to throw that at me, or are we just admiring it?”

His smile sharpened.

“Catch it.”

He threw.

Lyra moved aside, but the sphere changed direction midair and struck her shoulder. The impact sent her stumbling into the stone wall behind her.

Pain shot down her arm.

Laughter spread across the courtyard.

“Oops,” Cassian said. “Forgot you couldn't do that.”

Lyra straightened slowly.

“No. You remembered perfectly.”

His expression hardened.

Before he could answer, a bell rang from the academy tower.

Their instructor, Professor Alden, stepped onto the courtyard platform.

“Enough. Everyone to your assigned groups.”

Cassian turned away, satisfied with himself.

Lyra rubbed her shoulder and followed the other students.

She had learned something important during her three years at Veyr Academy.

Vampires respected power.

They respected family names, inherited abilities, and ancient bloodlines.

What they didn't respect was someone who had none of those things.

And Lyra, according to almost everyone around her, had absolutely nothing.

“Group seven,” Professor Alden called. “Your assessment begins now.”

Lyra checked the parchment in her hand.

GROUP SEVEN

●Cassian Rook — Blood manipulation

●Seraphine Vale — Compulsion

●Elias Veyne — Enhanced speed

●Lyra Vance — Unclassified

She stared at the last word.

Unclassified.

A polite way of saying we don't know what you can do, assuming you can do anything at all.

“Wonderful,” Cassian muttered when he read the list. “We're doomed.”

Seraphine, a girl with silver-blonde hair and an expensive-looking uniform, gave Lyra a sympathetic smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“Don't worry. You can stand behind us.”

“How generous.”

“Someone has to make sure you don't get hurt.”

Lyra folded the parchment.

“Then try not to get hurt. I'd hate to disappoint you.”

Elias snorted.

Seraphine's smile disappeared.

Professor Alden raised his voice.

“Today's assessment is a retrieval exercise. Each group must enter the west training wing, locate the marked object, and return it before the hourglass empties. You may use your abilities. You may not attack another student. You may not damage the academy wards.”

He gestured toward a heavy iron door.

“Inside, you will find three chambers, a series of obstacles, and a locked vault. Your task is to retrieve the silver crest inside the vault.”

Cassian cracked his knuckles.

“Easy.”

“Then I expect you to finish quickly,” Professor Alden replied. “Begin.”

The groups rushed toward the training wing.

Lyra's team was among the last to enter.

Inside, the corridor split into three passages. Blue flames burned inside wall sconces, illuminating symbols carved into the stone.

Cassian immediately chose the left passage.

“Come on.”

Lyra glanced at the symbols.

“Wait.”

He didn't stop.

She hurried after him.

“What?”

“Those markings. They're directional.”

Cassian looked over his shoulder.

“They're decorative.”

“They're pointing toward the passages.”

“Congratulations. You can read arrows.”

He continued walking.

Lyra bit back her response and followed.

The first chamber contained a narrow bridge suspended above a deep pit. Metal platforms floated at different heights, shifting whenever someone stepped onto them.

Elias grinned.

“Finally.”

He blurred forward, crossing the gap in seconds.

Seraphine followed, using a burst of telekinetic force to steady herself on the moving platforms.

Cassian manipulated the blood in his own body to propel himself across the last stretch.

Then all three turned toward Lyra.

She looked at the bridge.

Then at the empty space below it.

“There's no other way?”

“Unless you can fly,” Cassian said.

“I'll put it on my list.”

She stepped onto the first platform.

It dropped sharply.

Lyra grabbed the edge before she fell, her fingers scraping against cold metal.

“Careful!” Seraphine called, sounding more amused than concerned.

Lyra pulled herself up.

The next platform shifted left. She waited, watching its movement.

Then she jumped.

She made it to the other side with a hard landing that sent pain through her knees.

Cassian shook his head.

“That was embarrassing.”

“And yet,” Lyra said, catching her breath, “I'm here.”

They moved into the second chamber.

This one contained a stone door with three rotating discs. Each disc bore a different symbol: a crown, a wolf, and a crescent moon.

A silver crest was engraved in the centre.

Cassian stepped forward and pressed his palm against the door.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, forcing blood magic into the grooves.

The discs remained still.

“Move,” Seraphine said.

She placed two fingers against the stone and whispered a command.

“Open.”

Nothing.

Elias tried pushing.

The door didn't budge.

Cassian swore under his breath.

Lyra crouched in front of the discs.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking.”

“At what?”

“The door.”

“Very helpful.”

She ignored him.

The symbols weren't random. Each disc had tiny notches along its edge, and the crown symbol was worn more heavily than the others.

Lyra turned the first disc.

It clicked.

Cassian stared at her.

“What did you do?”

“Turned it.”

“Don't be clever.”

“I'll try to recover from the disappointment.”

She turned the wolf next.

Another click.

Then the crescent moon.

The stone door opened.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

“The discs were designed to be turned. You were all trying to force the door open.”

Cassian's face tightened.

“Lucky guess.”

“Of course.”

She stepped through the doorway before he could say anything else.

Beyond it lay the final chamber.

A glass case stood on a stone pedestal, the silver crest resting inside.

Between them and the case stretched a floor covered in pale tiles.

Professor Alden's voice sounded through the chamber's speaking wards.

“Remember. Your objective is to retrieve the crest. The vault's protective mechanism will activate if you choose the wrong path.”

Cassian examined the tiles.

“There's a pattern.”

He pointed to a row of black squares.

“Those. Step only on the black ones.”

He crossed the first few tiles without trouble.

Then a sharp crack split the air.

The floor beneath him shifted.

Cassian jumped backward as a section of the tiles dropped into darkness.

Seraphine grabbed his arm.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Lyra stared at the floor.

The black squares weren't safe.

They were triggers.

She looked at the walls. At the speaking wards. At the pedestal.

Then she noticed something else.

The blue flames in the sconces flickered whenever Cassian stepped near a particular tile.

“Everyone stop moving,” she said.

Nobody listened.

Elias tried to sprint across the remaining tiles.

The floor shifted again.

He barely made it back before the passage collapsed.

“Would you all just listen to me?” Lyra snapped.

Her voice echoed through the chamber.

The others went still.

Lyra pointed toward the walls.

“The flames. Watch them.”

She picked up a small fragment of stone from the edge of the room and tossed it onto a black square.

The flame nearest it flickered.

Then the tile sank.

Seraphine's eyes widened.

“So the safe path—”

“Is marked by the flames that don't flicker,” Lyra finished. “We need to watch the walls, not the floor.”

Cassian looked at the path.

For once, he had nothing to say.

Lyra crossed first, carefully watching the flames. Seraphine followed. Elias came after her, and Cassian brought up the rear.

They reached the pedestal with seconds to spare.

Lyra opened the case and took the silver crest.

The hourglass above the entrance emptied just as they returned to the courtyard.

Professor Alden checked their crest.

“Group seven has completed the assessment.”

Elias let out a relieved laugh.

“We actually did it.”

“Thanks to Lyra,” Seraphine said.

Lyra glanced at her, surprised.

For one brief moment, she thought the girl might actually mean it.

Then Seraphine added, “Although I suppose someone had to notice the obvious.”

Cassian took the crest from Lyra's hand and passed it to Professor Alden.

“We worked as a team.”

“And you spent half the assessment proving you weren't. You're welcome.”

“That's not how gratitude works.”

Professor Alden cleared his throat.

“Your group will receive a satisfactory mark. The exercise was designed to test cooperation, not individual performance.”

His gaze settled on Lyra.

“Miss Vance, your observations were useful. However, you must find a way to contribute more effectively in future exercises.”

Lyra blinked.

“More effectively?”

“You relied entirely on observation. Your classmates had to manage the physical obstacles.”

She looked at the others.

Cassian was smirking.

Seraphine had already turned away.

Lyra swallowed the response that rose to her tongue.

“Yes, Professor.”

She knew better than to argue.

By lunchtime, the story had already spread.

Lyra Vance had completed an academy assessment without using a single supernatural ability.

Some students called it clever.

Others called it pathetic.

Most thought it was funny.

She sat alone at the end of a long dining table, picking at her lunch while conversations swirled around her.

“Is it true?” someone asked from the next table. “You solved the vault?”

“I was there,” another student replied. “She just got lucky.”

“Imagine being a vampire and having no powers.”

“Imagine being adopted by House von Lucian and still being a nobody.”

Lyra put down her fork.

She could have moved to another table.

She could have pretended not to hear them.

Instead, she turned in her seat.

“If you're going to discuss me, at least have the courage to do it where I can hear you.”

The nearby conversation died.

A boy with dark curls leaned back in his chair.

“Why? Would you like us to congratulate you?”

“No. I'd like you to develop an original personality. But I understand that's a much harder task.”

A few students choked on their drinks.

The boy's expression darkened.

“You think you're better than us?”

“Not at all. I just think you're louder.”

Someone laughed.

The boy stood, his chair scraping across the stone floor.

Lyra remained seated.

She was beginning to regret choosing this particular lunch table.

“Careful, Vance,” he said. “Your family name won't protect you everywhere.”

Lyra met his gaze.

“Then I suppose it's fortunate I don't intend to hide behind it.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Then he scoffed and walked away.

Lyra returned to her lunch, though her appetite had disappeared.

She hated this part most.

Not the insults. Not even the occasional shove.

It was the way people looked at her afterward, as if surviving their cruelty were somehow more offensive than inflicting it.

A shadow fell across the table.

Lyra looked up.

A young man stood beside her, dressed in the academy's black uniform. His dark hair was neatly combed, and a silver signet ring gleamed on his hand.

She recognized him immediately.

Darius Thorne.

The heir to one of the most powerful vampire families in Veyr.

He glanced at the empty seat opposite her.

“Is this taken?”

Lyra looked around the practically empty table.

“Clearly.”

He sat anyway.

She stared at him.

“Do you always ignore answers you dislike?”

“Only when they're uninteresting.”

“How unfortunate for you.”

Darius's mouth twitched, almost a smile.

“I watched your assessment.”

“I'm sorry you had to endure it.”

“You noticed things the others didn't.”

“It's a terrible habit. I'm trying to stop.”

“Don't.”

Lyra studied him cautiously.

He wasn't mocking her. That was almost more suspicious.

“What do you want, Thorne?”

“To ask you a question.”

“Ask someone else.”

“I already know what they'll say.”

“And what will I say?”

He leaned forward slightly.

“That's what I intend to find out.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes.

Darius held her gaze for another moment, then stood.

“See you around, Vance.”

“I'll try to contain my excitement.”

He walked away without answering.

Lyra watched him disappear into the crowd.

She didn't know what bothered her more: the fact that Darius Thorne had approached her at all, or the fact that he'd looked at her as though he expected something from her.

She was used to being underestimated.

She was used to being dismissed.

But being studied?

That was new.

And Lyra had a feeling it was going to make her life considerably more difficult.

End of chapter 1