Chapter 1: The Grave Digger
The rain didn't stop. Two blinding beams of light cut through the deluge, locking onto me like the eyes of a predator.
Standing in the freezing ruins of the Old Chapel, my knees locked in place. I wanted to run. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to flee, to hide in the shadows where a mongrel belonged.
But I didn't. I stayed.
The sleek black car screeched to a halt in the mud. The door opened, and a figure stepped out. He was perfect. Black suit, silver buttons, and hands encased in pristine white gloves that seemed to glow in the dark.
"Adrian," I whispered, clutching my battered suitcase until my knuckles turned white. "You came."
He walked toward me, the black umbrella shielding him from the storm.
"Serena." His voice was low, gentle, exactly as I remembered.
Fear screamed at me to run. I didn’t listen. I ran straight into his arms.
I threw myself against his chest, burying my face in the scent of his expensive cologne. I was a moth flying into a flame, desperate for the only warmth I had ever known in this cold, rejected life.
"Take me away," I sobbed, shaking violently against him. "Please, just take me away from them."
"I will," Adrian whispered. His left hand stroked my wet hair, soothing me. "To a place where no one can hurt you. Forever."
I closed my eyes, melting into his protection.
Then, his right hand moved.
SHHHK.
There was no warning. No hesitation.
My eyes snapped open. I gasped, but the air wouldn't come.
I heard it first—the soft, sickening sound of expensive silk tearing. Then came the vibration, the gritty, horrific sensation of steel grinding against my sternum.
It wasn't a kiss. It was cold steel, sliding effortlessly between my ribs, piercing the heart that was beating only for him.
"Gah..."
My lungs made a sound like a leaking bellows, hissing as they filled with blood. The pain wasn't sharp; it was a sprawling, consuming numbness. It felt like an icicle had been shoved into my core, freezing the blood in my veins. That cold... it wasn't just the temperature of the metal. It was the void. It was the feeling of life rushing out of me.
I tried to pull back, but he held me tight. He held me like a lover, while his hand—that beautiful, gloved hand—twisted the blade forty-five degrees.
The light left my eyes. My legs gave way.
Adrian let me slide down, watching me collapse into the filth. He stood over me, immaculate and dry, while I choked on my own blood.
"Why..."
"Still alive?"
A bored, sweet voice floated from the car. The rear window rolled down.
Elena. The Grand Duke's daughter.
She swirled a glass of red wine, looking at me like I was roadkill. "Adrian, you're losing your touch. She almost splashed mud on my tires."
"Apologies, my lady," Adrian bowed slightly to the car, his voice terrifyingly polite. "I had to avoid the rib cage. It takes a moment longer."
I lay in the mud, vision blurring, black spots dancing at the edges of my sight.
In that moment, time warped.
I saw a stable, bathed in golden afternoon sunlight. I was eight years old, dirty and starving. Adrian was standing there, holding a piece of bread. I remembered how he reached out with those same hands—the hands that were now holding a bloody dagger—and gently wiped a crumb from the corner of my mouth.
“Lines don’t matter, Serena,” he had said.
Liar.
Lines are the only thing that matters. Elites marry elites. And mongrels... mongrels get buried. Even as I lay dying, looking at his indifferent, cold face, my heart still ached for him. That was the tragedy. I was a fool who believed the sun would shine on a cockroach.
"Bury it," Elena waved her hand dismissively. "Deep. I don't want stray dogs digging up the trash."
"As you wish."
Adrian turned back to me. He looked at his right hand. The pristine white glove was now soaked in crimson.
He frowned, as if he had stepped in something unpleasant.
Slowly, methodically, he peeled the glove off. Finger by finger.
"Happy Anniversary, Serena."
He dropped it.
The wet, blood-soaked fabric landed on my face with a heavy splat. The smell of iron and wet wool gagged me.
It was my shroud.
Then came the shovel.
Scrape.
THUD.
A heavy pile of freezing mud slammed into my chest.
He wasn't waiting for me to die. He was burying me alive.
THUD.
Dirt covered my legs.
THUD.
Dirt covered my neck.
Panic. Real, primal, animalistic panic.
The soil wasn't just heavy; it felt alive. It slithered into my ears, muffling the sound of the rain. It pressed against my eyelids, granular and rough. It forced its way into my nostrils, smelling of rot and worms.
I tried to scream, but mud filled my mouth. I tried to claw at the air, but my arms were heavy as lead.
The square of gray sky above me shrank. I saw Adrian’s silhouette against the lightning—rhythmic, efficient, tireless.
He didn't hate me. That would have been better. He was just filing me away. Like a mistake.
The last shovel of dirt fell.
Darkness.
Absolute, crushing darkness.
The weight of the earth pressed down, squeezing the last pocket of air from my lungs. My ribs groaned under the pressure. My chest tried to expand, desperate to draw breath, but the earth had set like cement around me.
I couldn't breathe. My lungs were burning. My eyes felt like they were popping out of their sockets.
Hallucinations danced in the dark. I saw Death laughing at me. I saw my mother’s face turning into a skull. The darkness wasn't just the absence of light. It was a physical thing, a heavy, eternal void that was swallowing my soul.
Is this it? Do I die here, a joke?
Above me, I heard the car engine start. They were leaving. To drink wine. To celebrate.
While I rotted.
No.
My heart stopped.
Silence.
Then...
BOOM.
It wasn't a heartbeat. It was a war drum.
Deep in my marrow, the shameful blood I had spent my life hiding—the blood of the slave, the beast—ignited.
The pressure of the earth didn't feel heavy anymore. It felt... tight.
My gums itched violently. My fingernails burned, hardening, lengthening into something sharp. The hole in my chest knit together with a sickening squelch.
I opened my eyes in the pitch black. They were glowing. One crimson. One gold.
"Adrian."
A growl tore from my throat, vibrating through the soil.
I raised my hand. My claws shredded the packed earth above me.
CRACK.
My hand broke the surface, reaching into the rain.
