The crowd collectively inhaled, some leaning forward, others instinctively stepping back. In the front rows, several vampires exchanging meaningful glances and coin purses. A grizzled vampire in a midnight-blue coat grinned as he pocketed what looked like a substantial sum from his pale-faced neighbor.
The woman’s scream cut through the air for several seconds before the light consumed her entirely. Her body didn’t just crumble—it exploded into a shower of silver ash that sparkled in the torchlight before settling on the stone floor. The emerald dress collapsed in on itself, empty fabric falling with a soft whisper around the pristine necklace.
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, the murmurs began again, barely audible whispers over the pounding of my own heart.
Up on the dais, Mathais’s expression flickered, jaw tightened and a brief narrowing of his eyes, but it was enough. He waited for the crowd to settle, his expression neutral, as if he’d just witnessed someone trip rather than spontaneously combust.
“The Flask does not care who your father is when it tastes your soul.” He gestured almost casually to a servant, who swept the ashes into a small silver urn.
“Next,” the regent called, and I noticed more coin purses being discretely exchanged throughout the audience.
Oh hells, the Flask really does kill aspirants.I worried that my ashes were about to join hers and that someone in this crowd was already calculating the odds on my survival.
Most candidates passed. Yet twice, the reaction was different. The eighth challenger suffered the same fate, her confident smirk vanishing as the artifactrendered its final judgment.
“Next,” Mathias announced.
My stomach clenched as I realized it was my turn. I stepped forward, acutely aware of every eye in the room fixed upon me. The chain lay waiting next to the Flask, which pulsed with the hypnotic motions of Eona’s blood.
This was it. This moment would either cement my disguise or expose me as a fraud.
My fingers closed around the necklace, trembling despite my resolve. It proved lighter than I expected, delicate, but the warmth blooming against my palm hinted at something far heavier. I lifted it toward my throat, the silver chain catching the light like a whispered promise, which made me wonder whether I was about to be accepted…or incinerated.
Chapter 7
Sidney
Fire raced through my veins the moment the chain settled against me. The flask blazed bright white upon my skin. An ancient and powerful presence unfurled, almost too much for my mind.
“Well, well.”Its venomous tone slithered in my thoughts, carrying a sense of amusement laced with danger. “What do we have here? A little slayer dressed up like a lamb for the slaughter. I see you, chaos bringer. How deliciously ironic.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“I should incinerate you where you stand.”Its voice glided through my thoughts, power tightening around my mind like a serpent coiling to strike. “But oh, the entertainment you’ll bring to these sterile trials… Yes, I think I’ll let you play. Thiswillbe a fun competition.”As the presence withdrew, it added,“Try not to disappoint me, little huntress.”Its laughter faded into silence.
Its departure rang in my ears, leaving behind a hollow ache and hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. The light faded to a steady glow.
I’m alive. Thank Aetherius!
Eona’s twisted influence on the artifact was obvious. The fact that it had seen through every layer of my disguise, held my life in its metaphysical hands, and chosen to let me live for its bloody entertainment was testament.
Around me, the other competitors watched with raised or narrowed brows.
Mathias’s maroon eyes met mine. “Accepted.”
For a heartbeat, his presence had a hold on me, and I simply couldn’t look away. A shiver of awareness passed up my spine as he leaned in close.
“Welcome to the trials.” His breath caressed my ear and triggered a flutter in my stomach. “You belong to the Flask now.” A flicker of brighter red spun from one of his irises to the other, then vanished. It was so quick I could’ve imagined it.
In a blink, the spell was broken and I turned to join the group of approved contestants. I focused on the other vampiresses, each an obstacle between me and my goals.
The statuesque brunette with the predatory smile stood with practiced poise, but I caught the slight tremor in her left hand. Nerves, or withdrawal from some substance. Her stance favored her right side—an old injury, perhaps, or simply poor balance.
The pale, sharp-featured woman near the northern wall kept touching her throat, a nervous habit revealing insecurity despite her haughty expression. She pressed her back to the stone, never letting anyone slip behind her. Not caution. Paranoia. The kind that frays under pressure.
A woman with glossy raven hair stood at rigid attention, her strong bearing honed and deliberate. Her sharp, calculating gaze swept the room like a hunter tracking weakness. She didn’t glance at the exits in fear but in strategy,mapping every escape route and blind spot. This one had seen battle and won.
My focus moved to a willowy blonde who appeared almost ethereal in her beauty, but something about her set my instincts on edge. Her smile hovered just shy of vacancy, and her gaze lingered on the servants’ throats for a beat too long. Something feral simmered beneath that porcelain exterior.
