They walked in silence.
No words since they left the house. Amanda followed behind Lucan, the sound of his shoes soft against pine needles. The woods were cold, still. Nothing moved, but everything watched.
He stopped when the scent changed.
The body lay beneath a leaning tree, half-covered in rotting leaves. Rigid. Not fresh, but not natural either. The mark on the corpse's shoulder wasn't from a blade. It had been burned in. Amanda stared at it, the smell already turning her stomach.
"Is it vampire?" she asked.
Lucan crouched beside the corpse. "No."
She hesitated. "Then what is it?"
He looked at her. "Werewolf."
Amanda blinked. "They exist?"
His voice laced with disgust.
"They do."
Lucan didn't look away from the mark. It wasn't familiar, not directly. But the shape, it felt like it wanted to be recognized. Like the thing that carved it expected to be understood.
He pressed a hand lightly to the shoulder of the corpse.
The skin didn't give.
Amanda stayed back. She could feel something about it, like it was wrong in a way she couldn't describe. Not just the body. The air around it.
Lucan stood. "I want you to try."
Amanda took a step forward. "Try what?"
"See what's left. What it remembers."
Amanda frowned. "You think it has memory?"
Lucan didn't answer. He didn't need to.
She knelt beside the body. Reached out, hand hovering above the burned symbol. The second she touched it, the world shifted sideways.
The woods were louder now. Closer.
Breathing. Fast. Hurt. Someone stumbling, bleeding, alone.
Then panic. Not hers.
A presence behind. Cold. Hunting.
Then silence.
Then something else.
Anger.
Like a weight pressing into her chest, ancient and patient.
She felt the shape of it, not the face. The intent. The moment before action. And then... gone.
Amanda fell backward, gasping. Lucan caught her arm before she hit the ground.
She blinked up at him, dazed.
"It wasn't him," she said.
Lucan's brow furrowed.
"The one who killed him. It wasn't the one that marked him."
Lucan stared at the trees, jaw tight.
"Someone's sending a message."
"Do you know who?"
He didn't speak right away.
"No. But I will."
Amanda stood beside him, breathing still unsteady.
Lucan looked back at the body one last time.
-----
The knock came just after sunset.
Three taps. Even. Precise.
Sophie-Anne didn't answer the door herself. She sat in her study, fingers laced, one leg crossed over the other. A glass of blood, untouched, sat at her side. She didn't glance at it.
"Let him in," she said.
Her assistant obeyed without a word.
The vampire who entered wasn't old by Sophie-Anne's standards. Maybe two centuries at best. But he walked like someone used to being feared. Or worse, ignored.
He wore a dark suit. No rings. No scent. His fangs weren't visible, but his smile was sharp.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing just deep enough to signal manners but not submission.
Sophie-Anne didn't rise.
"Name?"
"Adrian."
"Region?"
"I speak for no region."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then who do you speak for?"
He smiled wider, gently, like a father waiting for his child to piece the puzzle together.
"I bring regards from a fellow monarch. One who believes in courtesy above all."
She set her glass down.
"Say it."
Adrian nodded, slow.
"King Russell Edgington sends his warmest regard."
The air in the room cooled.
Sophie-Anne didn't blink.
"Edgington has no reason to contact me."
"Perhaps not. But he has interest. In your territory. In its... recent activity."
She leaned forward, but not in invitation.
"What kind of interest?"
Adrian met her gaze.
"In who walks your land."
He didn't say Lucan's name. He didn't need to.
Sophie-Anne stood, finally.
"Tell your king I'm aware of my guests."
Adrian dipped his head again.
"He knows. That's why I'm here."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a simple envelope. Unsealed. Plain. No wax, no crest.
He placed it on the edge of her desk, then stepped back.
"There's no threat in that letter," he said.
"Only perspective."
Sophie-Anne didn't touch it.
"You're excused."
Adrian bowed once more. Not lower. Not higher. And then he was gone.
She waited until the room was empty, then she picked up the envelope. Inside was a single phrase.
Some monsters survive by hiding. Others by feeding. A few, by choosing what to ignore.
And nothing else.
Sophie-Anne didn't smile, but she did pour herself a second glass.
-----
Amanda had stopped trying to sleep, but sometimes her mind slipped sideways anyway. This time, it happened sitting up, book open in her lap, unread. One blink too long, one breath too deep, and the world tilted.
She wasn't pulled into memory.
Not this time.
There was no scent of blood. No echo of a death. No cold from Lucan's power hanging in the air.
There was only heat.
A sun overhead. Burning. Unnatural.
Then Lucan. Kneeling. Skin blackened. Ash flaking from his shoulders like snow. Arms limp at his sides. Fangs exposed, not in hunger, but in defiance.
He didn't scream.
Didn't move.
He just stared forward as something approached him, slow and steady.
She couldn't see its face. Just the shadow it cast.
Then her own voice, not spoken but felt.
"You told me I'd be strong enough."
The figure stopped in front of Lucan and looked at him like a failed sculpture. Then raised its hand.
Amanda tried to scream.
The world shattered.
She hit the floor hard. The book landed beside her, pages torn. She was gasping before she knew why, sweat pouring down her neck. Her hands shook, nails biting into her palms.
Lucan entered the room fast. No warning, no sound. Just there.
He knelt beside her, one hand on her back.
Amanda didn't look at him.
"I saw it," she said.
Lucan's voice was calm. "What?"
"You. Dying."
She turned her face up. Her expression was more than fear, it was betrayal.
"You didn't fight."
Lucan's eyes didn't narrow. They didn't soften. But something behind them pulled tight.
"I haven't died yet."
Amanda's voice cracked.
"Then why did it feel like you wanted to?"
Lucan didn't answer.
Because he didn't have one.