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POV Balthazar

210 years later

"This is Lioara Gabor Constantini. Our chosen one."

The folder landed on the wooden surface of the massive table as my father settled into the high-backed chair at the head. His expression was serious, focused. Even slightly irritated.

"Is she your final decision, Your Majesty?"

The question came from the man with nearly entirely white hair, seated at his left. Judge Casimir was the oldest among the advisors and the one who held my father’s trust.

"My decision would be to avoid any involvement with the wolves. But it seems I don’t have much choice." His blue eyes locked on me. "Where is Caliban? Did you inform him about the meeting, Balthazar?"

"He was notified."

I didn’t need to add anything else. Everyone knew my brother only did what he wanted.

Displeased, Antares turned to one of the guards at the door and ordered, "Go fetch that reckless fool! He’s the one most interested in this matter, yet he doesn’t even show up! I bet he spent the night doing something foolish. Another of his useless escapades!"

I glanced at the closed folder on the table. Without a word, I pulled it toward me and opened it, knowing what I would see. For years, we had been gathering extensive notes on the Carpathian Alphas, observing them from afar while collecting information and devising strategies.

To most, we were invisible. Vampires secluded at the highest point of the Transylvanian Alps, surrounded by deep valleys and treacherous mountain ranges, nearly inaccessible. It was one of the most inhospitable and remote locations in the Carpathians. Yet, we knew everything.

One of our survival rules was to guard our territory and monitor potential enemies, such as human hunters, hybrids, and wolves. In the past, wars with them had nearly decimated us.

When we learned about the Supreme Alphas, our focus intensified. For at least twenty years, we had been collecting data on them, as well as on anyone who appeared in their orbit and could pose a threat or become an ally.

The first photograph I saw was of the brothers Riuk Constantini, Jax Vanóia, and Fenrir Dănești. They were said to be the strongest and most powerful ever known, turning what had once been legend into fact: they were unique in the world as Supremes. They ruled their territories, forging alliances with other species, and possibly posed a future threat to us.

While my father was telling Casimir how little patience he had left for his useless youngest son, I sifted through the photographs. I saw images of their homes, their wives and families, the location where the Alliance Festivals were held, the locals, and even the university they had established, which attracted more and more interest.

When I finally found what I was looking for, I stopped. My full attention was drawn to the still figure near a wall, looking over her shoulder, as if caught in the sights of a powerful lens. Her light blue eyes were steady and wary. Her entire posture was prepared for a potential fight.

Lioara Gabor Constantini. The eldest daughter of the eldest Supreme Alpha. That was why she had been chosen.

I didn’t pay attention to the voices around me or whether Caliban would make an appearance. As I studied the beautiful and poised young woman, I was struck once again by curiosity. There was something about her that drew my attention, making me want to look longer. It had been that way since I first saw her.

I had heard my father’s stories about them and his plans. I had helped orchestrate it all but had never cared about the female who would play a part in the risky experiment. Until the day when, during a meeting, all the information about the daughters of Constantini, Vanóia, and Dănești was presented.

She was the first to appear on the screen, in a video taken secretly. She must have been about 17 years old, emerging from a fight with a much stronger boy, although he was her age. Neither of them had undergone the wolf transformation yet, which would happen at 21. But they were strong and well-prepared.

Lioara celebrated wildly when she defeated him, flushed and sweaty, her eyes blazing. A fiery red-haired warrior, athletic, determined. Full of hot blood, panting for more adrenaline.

In that moment, she had my full attention. Cheered on by her clan, she raised a fist and shouted before running to her father. He lifted her up, and she was celebrated by all. Then she laughed. The sound didn’t reach me; it was too far. But the intensity of her joy was palpable, fierce. So unlike anything I was used to.

There was no coldness among her family members, as I knew among vampires. She, her father, and everyone else seemed to belong to a reality far removed from my clan’s. Her personality clashed violently with mine.

As the images of her sisters played on the screen, Lioara’s presence remained etched in my mind. Undoubtedly, it was just curiosity. Our vampire women were calm and composed, elegant and cold. Lioara seemed ready to devour the world around her, consumed by flames.

After that, I followed her growth more closely until she turned 22. Of course, from a distance. My father was cautious in his investigations, not wanting the wolves to know of our interest—not until the right moment.

She grew even more beautiful. In a way that was harsh and straightforward, without embellishments. I even thought that for this reason, she would soon be eliminated as a candidate. My father appreciated things that were soft and restrained. For some reason, that didn’t happen.

I received images of her in both human and wolf forms when she transformed at the age of majority. Her wolf was reddish, with large golden eyes, as free and fearless as her human counterpart, running through the forest, hunting. Until, a year ago, we decided to observe each of the heirs more closely, without them knowing, of course.

I volunteered to patrol her area. Everyone was aware of the challenges; her father’s territory was heavily guarded and protected. But it wasn’t impossible for a vampire, especially one like me. That’s why I approached one of her favorite spots: the waterfall.

Lio Constantini was a wolf who valued routine. She worked with her father in the mines, visited her mother’s gypsy village weekly, and often met with her cousin and friend Zara Vanóia. She loved venturing into the forest and went to the waterfall at least three times a week, always early in the morning.

Traveling through the forest before dawn, from my palace in the Southern Carpathians to that point in the Eastern Carpathians, was easy. My extraordinary speed made the journey effortless. It felt like a light stroll, my hair still perfectly in place, as I waited. That slightly overcast morning, when I heard her steps, I was already perched among the branches and leaves of a large tree, camouflaged on a high limb. Waiting.

She appeared near the riverbank, stopping abruptly from a run that left her cheeks flushed. Almost hiding the freckles that dotted her pale skin, far more noticeable than in the videos or photographs.

She wore jeans, a simple shirt, sneakers, and had her hair tied back. The moment she arrived, she froze, raised her face, sniffed the air, and her gaze sharpened. She immediately sensed a foreign presence, though I had made sure I was alone. Was Lioara so perceptive that she could sense my sharp gaze on her?