My blood can cheat death, but it cannot read a human heart. I once gave my immortal life to the woman I thought had saved me, only for her to destroy me. But time rewound. And in the eyes of another dying girl, I saw the locket I had lost as a child. My grand sacrifice was a lie. A stolen identity. This time, I will awaken the one I truly owe my life to. And as for the imposter? She will repay every ounce of the suffering she caused... a hundred times over. 1 As one of the Blood Kindred, I was born with an eternal curse. A life force pulses in my blood, potent enough to turn back the tide of death itself. In my last withered lifetime, I used that power to heal Seraphina de Valois, the most dazzling jewel of Parisian society. My reward was her family’s cold vow: the healer would be bound to the healed, his fortune and his miracle absorbed into the Valois legacy. The forced engagement shattered Seraphina. Her true love, a man named Julien Reed, was in the Alps at the time, searching for some mythical herb to cure her. When the news of our betrothal reached him, he fell from a glacier. They never found a body. A year later, she did. She found him perfectly preserved in a crevasse of ice. She made me slice open my wrist. On that frigid night, I could hear the frantic, unhinged rhythm of her heart. I could smell the sharp, metallic scent of obsession clinging to her like a bitter perfume. She forced me to feed my life into his frozen corpse. “If you hadn’t interfered, Julien would have brought back the divine medicine and saved me! You killed him!” she shrieked, her voice like shattering crystal. “If your blood is such a miracle, then bring him back to me!” “Seraphina, he’s been dead for a year,” I pleaded. “My blood can mend living flesh. It cannot resurrect the dead.” But she just watched me with cold, flat eyes as my life drained away, drop by drop, along with the ancient, inhuman power that flowed within it. When I opened my eyes again, time had rewound. I was standing in the de Valois mansion on the very day they first summoned me. The stale air, a cloying mix of expensive perfume and old dust, assaulted my senses. I glanced at the pale figure in the wheelchair. Beneath her meticulously applied makeup, I could smell it—that faint, sickly-sweet odor of decay. It was the signature of a life force slowly extinguishing itself. “Mademoiselle de Valois, your legs… they have withered. No power on this earth can restore what is already dead.” At my words, Seraphina’s head snapped up. A furious blush stained her delicate features. “You charlatan! Get out of my house!” The ghost of a smile touched my lips. I turned to her mother. “Madame de Valois, if my family—the von Valerius line—declares a decay irreversible, then it is final. You are still young. Perhaps you should consider conceiving a new heir.” Before the words had fully settled, Seraphina’s teacup came flying at my head. To a mortal eye, it would have been a blur. To me, it moved with the lazy grace of a floating feather. Without shifting my feet, I simply tilted my head and plucked the porcelain from the air. The rose-gold rim was steady in my hand, not a single drop of the warm tea spilled. I placed it back on the table without a sound. Madame de Valois, thoroughly shaken, rushed forward. “Monsieur von Valerius, please, forgive her. Seraphina’s condition has made her…” I waved a hand, a gesture of deep, unutterable weariness. “I understand. I don’t deign to bicker with a cripple whose life is so fleeting.” As I turned to leave the gilded cage of a mansion, I could feel Seraphina’s entire body trembling with rage. Her frantic heartbeat was a drum against my ears. Madame de Valois hurried after me, her voice a desperate whisper. “Monsieur, is there truly nothing that can be done? If you could cure Seraphina, the Valois family would give you anything you desire.” The problem wasn't that I couldn't. It was that I wouldn't. The memory of my last life was a brand on my immortal soul, every breath a reminder of the terrifying depths of mortal greed. “I’m afraid I can do nothing for Mademoiselle de Valois’s legs.” Seraphina had wheeled herself to the doorway, just in time to hear me. Her sweet voice was laced with venom. “Mother, Julien is already on his way back to Paris. He’s bringing the Starflower of the High Mountains. My legs will be healed.” She glared at me. “This has nothing to do with you. I don’t need a stranger’s pity.” Madame de Valois sighed, the sound heavy and tired. “My child, the Starflower may help you recover, but it won’t be enough to let you stand again…” Seraphina remained defiant. “I told you, Julien will heal me.” I gave her one last, long look before taking my leave of her mother. As I stepped out of the mansion’s grand entrance, a horseless carriage roared to a stop before me. A woman emerged, despair carved into the lines of her face, and fell to her knees at my feet. “Monsieur von Valerius, I’m begging you… please, save my daughter.” 2 It was only then that I learned there had been another victim in the accident a year ago. Seraphina’s rival, as it turned out: Elara d’Amboise. Since the crash, Elara had been lost in an endless sleep, her life signs as faint as a candle flame in a gale. But after the hell of my past life, I would not bleed for anyone so easily again. My blood is the very essence of my being, not a commodity to be squandered. I politely declined Madame d’Amboise’s request. She didn’t press me. She simply wiped her tears and departed, a portrait of quiet grief. A week later, an invitation from the de Valois family arrived. A grand nocturnal salon was to be held. Julien had returned. Madame de Valois implored me to attend, to verify his “miracle cure.” Inside the salon, the light from the crystal chandeliers was a painful glare to my eyes. The entire space thrummed with the cacophony of life—hundreds of hearts beating in their cages of bone, warm blood rushing through veins. The smell of champagne, cigars, and raw desire mingled into a torrent that grated on my nerves. I stood like a stone island in a chattering sea of mortals. Julien stood beside Seraphina’s wheelchair like a loyal knight. Madame de Valois approached me, her brow furrowed with worry. “It’s not that I fear his medicine won’t work,” she confessed in a low voice. “I’m terrified of seeing the hope in Seraphina’s eyes die again.” Before I could respond, Julien was wheeling Seraphina toward us. “You needn’t worry, Madame,” he said, his smile radiating confidence. “I will have Seraphina walking again.” Seraphina squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with adoration. “Julien, the moment I can stand, I will marry you in the latest gown from the House of Worth.” Then, Julien turned to me, his smile sharpening into a sneer. “Unlike certain old-world aristocrats who cling to their reputations, I actually deliver on my promises.” Several of the renowned physicians who had previously treated Seraphina frowned. “Such arrogance, Monsieur Reed,” one of them scoffed. Seraphina, however, just smiled proudly. “I have faith in Julien. He is going to heal me!” A short, cold laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. It was a sound devoid of warmth, like the wind on a winter night. Julien’s jaw tightened. “Monsieur von Valerius, I’ve heard you’re the most gifted healer of your generation. Yet you do nothing but stand by and watch. It makes one wonder if you truly possess the power of your legends.” I raised my glass, the crimson liquid within catching the light like fresh blood. “In that case, I eagerly await the day Monsieur Reed has Mademoiselle de Valois on her feet again.” My placid demeanor enraged him. “I know you want to marry Seraphina, but she loves me. And I’m the only one who can cure her.” From her chair, Seraphina’s voice dripped with acid. “Damian, even if you could heal me, I would never, ever marry you.” The entire performance was beginning to bore me. Mortals wasted so much of their fleeting existence on such tedious dramas. I turned to leave, but Julien blocked my path. “Damian, I challenge you. A wager. The loser will kneel and admit defeat, and be banished from Paris forever!” I stopped. A slow smile spread across my face. This might, after all, provide a flicker of amusement in my endless night. I turned back to him, and as I smiled, my lips parted just enough to reveal the tips of my canines. “I accept your wager. But I will not be healing Seraphina de Valois. I am going to awaken Elara d’Amboise.” 3 “Ten days,” I announced, my voice cutting through the silence of the room. “We have ten days. Let’s see whether you can make Seraphina de Valois stand, or I can awaken the sleeping Elara d’Amboise.” “So, Julien Reed,” I asked, my eyes locked with his. “Do you dare?” A wave of whispers erupted through the hall. A flash of triumph lit Julien’s eyes. “I accept!” I let my smile widen. “I will not lose.” From her wheelchair, Seraphina laughed with contempt. “Elara is a living corpse. You couldn’t even fix my legs, and you think you can wake her?” My gaze drifted down to her legs, my sight feeling as though it could pierce the skin and see the slow rot taking place within. “Be careful, Seraphina. All medicines come with a price. With Monsieur Reed’s ‘miraculous’ arts, you might just find that in addition to your legs remaining useless, you’ve acquired some other… interesting afflictions.” With that, I turned and walked away. The next morning, Madame d’Amboise escorted me to the hospital. Sunlight cast dappled patterns on the floor, and I instinctively avoided the patches of light, keeping to the shadows. I walked to Elara’s bedside. She lay perfectly still, her breath so shallow it was nearly imperceptible. I reached out, my cold fingertips brushing against her cheek, feeling the last lingering trace of mortal warmth. Then, I held out my own wrist and, using a fingernail sharpened to a point, drew a fine, precise line across the skin. There was no mark of a mortal blade. The skin simply parted, and a few drops of blood, so dark they were almost black, welled up. They carried a strange fragrance, a mix of ancient dust and night-blooming flowers. This was not a simple gift; it was the sharing of my very eternity. I let the drops fall between her lips, watching them disappear against her pale mouth. Seven days, at most. My blood, my essence, would call her sleeping soul back to her veins. “Monsieur von Valerius, thank you,” Madame d’Amboise whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Madame, I am not doing this for payment. I am doing this to win,” I said, meeting her tear-filled eyes. “And rest assured, I will wake your daughter.” Before she could respond, Julien appeared, pushing Seraphina’s wheelchair. “So this was your game all along,” he sneered. “You’re just after the d’Amboise family’s money.” Madame d’Amboise’s expression turned to ice. “I have absolute faith in Monsieur von Valerius.” Seraphina was quick to her defense. “Madame d’Amboise, you can’t let him touch Elara!” I raised a hand, silencing Madame d’Amboise’s retort, my gaze settling on Seraphina’s legs. “Seraphina,” I said calmly. “Haven’t you noticed? Your legs… they’re atrophying even further.” 4 Seraphina instinctively pulled the blanket higher over her lap. “What are you talking about, Damian?” A flicker of panic crossed Julien’s face before he stepped in front of her wheelchair. “You don’t know anything, von Valerius. Shut your mouth.” I just smiled and said nothing. That night, after administering Elara’s daily dose of my blood, I received a note from a courier sent by Madame de Valois, describing the mysterious liquid Julien was using. Just then, a soft sigh came from the hospital bed. I moved to her side as silently as a wraith. “Elara? Are you awake?” Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. She blinked, her gaze focusing on my face. “Damian?” she murmured, breathing my name. I stared at her, a jolt running through me. My blood had forged a link within her; she could sense my presence. “You… know me?” Before she could answer, the door flew open and Madame d’Amboise rushed in. I retreated silently into the shadows of the room, leaving them to their reunion. For the next few days, Elara threw herself into physical therapy. By the end of the week, she was walking on her own. Soon, the tenth day of the wager arrived. The Valois mansion was filled to capacity. When Elara and I walked into the grand ballroom together, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. My very presence seemed to drop the temperature in the room, and every eye was drawn to us. The murmurs of the crowd drained the color from Julien’s face. “You… you actually did it?” I offered him a cold smile. “You’ve lost, Julien. Time to honor our agreement.” Just as he was about to buckle, a clear voice rang out from above. “Who says we’ve lost?” Seraphina de Valois. Standing at the top of the grand staircase. A triumphant grin spread across Julien’s face. “You see, von Valerius? Seraphina can stand!” Seraphina looked down at me, her face a mask of contempt. “You said I was a lost cause, Damian. But here I am.” I just shook my head. My hearing could pick up the faint, agonizing protests of sinew and bone beneath her skin. I could smell the accelerating corruption of the ‘Corpse-Flower Tincture.’ “Your legs might have been salvageable before, Seraphina. But now… now they truly are hopeless.” Fire ignited in her eyes. “Let’s see how long that arrogant look on your face lasts!” With that, she lifted her foot to take the first step down.
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