Chapter 1
Starlight Grove was nothing like Blustoria. In fact, it couldn’t have been more different.
Priya lay sprawled on her bed, legs propped against the wall, head dangling upside down over the mattress’s edge. She stared gloomily at the cardboard piles that surrounded her—ten boxes in all. It was strange, unsettling even, to see her entire life—the bits and pieces that made her her—reduced to ten neatly taped cubes.
With a long, dramatic sigh, she slid off the bed. Her head hit the wooden floor with a dull thud, but she didn’t flinch. At least the floor wasn’t cold tile, like it had been back home.
After a moment of motionless sulking, Priya pushed herself up and shuffled over to the stacks. She paused at the smallest one. Her brow furrowed as she carefully peeled away the tape. It wasn’t large, but it held her most treasured belongings.
She sifted through the contents until her fingers brushed up against a familiar shape. Gently, she pulled out a wrapped bundle and sat cross-legged on the floor, her heart growing heavy as she undid the layers of fabric. The final wrap was a delicate silk handkerchief, embroidered with tiny silver Blustorian runes—her great-grandmother’s handiwork.
As the last fold fell away, Priya’s reflection stared back at her from the smooth surface of a small mirror.
Her breath caught. A tear slipped free before she could stop it, splashing onto the glass. She wiped the rest away with the sleeve of her sweater, angry at herself for crying—again. Clutching the mirror to her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a long, steady breath.
This wasn’t just any mirror. It was magic.
Unlike ordinary mirrors, this one showed her reflection.
Priya needed a magic mirror because she was a vampire. Like most of her kind in Blustoria, her skin was a pale, bluish hue, her hair thick and black, and her fangs small but unmistakable. She didn’t stand out. If anything, she blended in perfectly—nothing remarkable. Nothing special.
Except for her eyes.
While her sisters had inherited their mother’s dazzling ruby-red gaze, Priya’s were a muted, dusty rose—the exact, uncommon shade her father had once had.
The mirror was special, yes—but its real worth came from what she could see with it.
Her father had died the summer before, nearly a year ago. Her mother and sisters said they saw him in Priya sometimes, glimpses of him in the tilt of her smile or the tone of her voice. Vampires couldn’t take photographs, and in her mother’s grief, most of the family’s painted portraits had been packed away and left seemingly to rot.
Priya had held onto one tiny portrait of her father, but it never felt quite right.
In it, he looked too young—his hair slicked back, his face serious and expressionless. His eyes were painted bright red, which had never been true. They were supposed to be dusty rose, like hers.
That version of him felt like a stranger.
The father she remembered had unruly, fluffy black hair that defied any comb regardless of his efforts. His eyes always crinkled at the corners from smiling so much, though you could barely see them behind the gold-rimmed glasses he wore every single day.
That was her dad. And no painting could ever quite capture him.
The only way Priya could see her father the way she remembered him was by looking into her own eyes. Just for a moment, the illusion would flicker—she’d see past the familiar gold frames and feel as though she were staring into his eyes again. But then, reality would settle in. The face wasn’t his. It was hers.
Without this mirror, he would vanish completely.
Turning it over, she ran a finger—her black nail ragged from nervous chewing—along the silver backing. She traced the tiny etching of a bat’s wings, feeling each ridge and dip like a secret code.
With a long, resigned sigh, Priya gently wrapped and placed the mirror back into its box and closed the lid with care. The urge to unpack had passed.
She flopped backward onto the bed, arms spread, legs dangling. A throw pillow shot off the mattress and bounced across the wooden floor, but Priya didn’t even glance at it. Her gaze wandered, drifting lazily from one corner of the room to the next.
The walls were painted a soft yellow, speckled with delicate pink flowers. She was almost certain her sisters had chosen this room for her because of the décor. Back in Blustoria, her walls had been deep purple—rich and shadowy. Here, a wide window filled the room with warm sunlight and overlooked a cheerful little garden.
Her old room’s window had framed something very different: the silvery glow of the moon, rising behind a jagged ridge of hills.
Priya wrinkled her nose. The weather in Blustoria had mostly consisted of endless gray clouds and cool misty mornings. Sunshine was rare—almost suspiciously so. Maybe that’s why people always said vampires didn’t like the sun.
But Priya did.
She loved the moon too, but she thought the sun was something special. On the occasional summer day when it broke through Blustoria’s heavy skies, she and her sisters would spread towels along the black-sand shores of Red Lake. They’d lie back and soak in the warmth, surrounded by tiny molten lizards basking beside them. Their gleaming orange scales sparkled against the dark sand like embers in a fireplace.
Smiling faintly at the memory, Priya rose from the bed and crept toward the window. Though she didn’t need to, she still tiptoed—an old habit from living in an echoey manor with creaky floors.
Outside, spring had woven its magic across Starlight Grove. The garden below was bursting into bloom. Vines dripped with delicate blue blossoms, like beads of water frozen in midair. Budding purple flowers looked ready to burst with color at any moment.
In Blustoria, sunlight was too scarce for most flowers. People grew pale, moon-kissed varieties—white moonlight blossoms, night lilies, and, for those with patience, the elusive dusk lotus or princess-of-the-night bloom.
But here, everything was vivid. Bright. Alive.
It was...different. But maybe not all bad. Priya did like a little color now and then.
A sudden bang shattered the stillness. Priya’s pointed ears twitched, and she leaned into the hallway.
“Is everything okay?” she called, voice echoing softly down the corridor.
Another door creaked open across the hall. Vivi’s head appeared, her expression curious.
Vivi looked just like their mother—glossy black hair cascading like a waterfall down her back, her bangs cut in a straight, sharp line across her forehead. Everything about her was polished, precise.
Priya, by contrast, kept her bangs long, allowing them to fall into her eyes like curtains. She preferred to keep to herself, and the fringe made the perfect shield when she didn’t want to be seen.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t you,” Vivi said, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her lips. “And it definitely wasn’t me. Mom’s out, so...”
She leaned into the hallway and called, “HENNA—YOU OKAY?”
A series of heavy stomps echoed down the hall, followed by the door at the far end flinging open with a dramatic bang.
Henna stood there, flushed purple with frustration, her brow furrowed and her fangs bared.
“I’m fine, alright?” she snapped. “It’s these ridiculous boxes! Whoever stacked them like this clearly had no idea what they were doing—it’s useless!” She threw a pointed glare down the hallway.
“Honestly, Priya could’ve done a better job.”
Vivi stepped into the hallway, hands clasped in front of her like she was trying to wrangle calm out of thin air. Priya couldn’t tell whether Vivi was nervous or just trying to keep Henna from exploding.
Vivi had always been the calm and collected one of the three sisters. Henna, on the other hand, was a lightning bolt—quick, hot-tempered, and prone to loud crashes.
“I’m sure the movers tried their best,” Vivi said gently. “Want me to help? I’ve nearly finished unpacking.”
Henna bit her lower lip, clearly holding back a growl. “Of course you’re done. Little Miss Perfect,” she muttered, before stomping back into her room and slamming the door so hard it made both Priya and Vivi flinch.
Vivi took a step back and turned toward Priya, her shoulders drooping.
Priya didn’t like the look on her sister’s face. Vivi’s usual brightness was gone, replaced with a shadowed frown that didn’t belong on her.
“Henna’s being a jerk,” Priya said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Vivi blinked as if waking up from a daze, then gave her little sister a soft, grateful smile.
“I know,” she said. “I’m just...worried about her. I think the move’s been hardest on Henna. It’s been hard on all of us, but for her... it’s different.” She folded her arms. “She’s older. This was supposed to be her last year of school. Now she’s starting over in a brand-new place. And Edwin... I think they were getting serious.”
Priya scowled, arms tightening around her chest. “So? We all left people behind. Friends, our rooms, home. She doesn’t get to be mean just because she’s upset.”
She was so focused on staying calm that she didn’t hear the creak of a door opening again.
Henna stepped back into the hallway. Her expression had changed—less fury now, more something else. Her posture was stiff, jaw clenched.
She took a long, steady breath, then slowly opened her hand.
In her palm lay the broken remains of a small, ornamental crest from Crimson City—the place where both their parents had grown up. The once-elegant emblem was now cracked and chipped, barely recognizable.
Priya’s stomach sank. Suddenly, she understood.
“My glass rose from Edwin broke, too,” Henna said quietly, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand before pinching the bridge of her nose. “A bunch of little things like that. All ruined.”
Without a word, Vivi cupped her hands together and gently took the broken crest from Henna. She crossed the hallway and set it carefully on a large box against the wall, as though it were something sacred.
Two strong arms wrapped around Priya, pulling her into a fierce embrace.
“I’m sorry, Pri,” Henna murmured into her hair. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. We can’t change what happened.”
Priya clutched the front of Henna’s thick black sweatshirt and held on tightly.
Before she could say anything, Vivi joined them, slipping her arms around both sisters and pulling them into a warm, squishy hug.
“We’ll be okay,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “We have each other—and that’s enough.” Her tone was cheerful, but Priya could feel the dampness of Vivi’s quiet tears soaking into her hair.
And yet... wrapped in her sisters’ arms, Priya really did feel a little better. Safer. Stronger.
Maybe they could make a life here, even in this strange new town.
But she had one urgent request.
“I love you both, really,” she gasped with a laugh, “but too tight! Can’t breathe!”
Instead of letting go, Henna squeezed her tighter. “Nope. Too late. We’re a permanent tangle now.”
Priya groaned playfully. “This is how I die.”
“All three of us,” Vivi chimed in with a watery giggle. “Crushed by sibling love.”
