Chapter 6
The longer Emilia stayed in the manor, the stronger she felt. It wasn’t just a feeling—it was real. Her senses were sharper; she could hear conversations happening on the other side of the house as if she were standing right there. Her vision had changed too. She could see perfectly in the dark, pick up the slightest movements, sense the heartbeat of anyone in the room. But what truly convinced her was the strength. One evening, she accidentally gripped the edge of a marble countertop too tightly, and the stone cracked beneath her fingers. The sound echoed through the kitchen, making even Cyrus raise an eyebrow.
Luca had simply smiled. “You’re waking up,” he had said, as if the transformation was expected.
Emilia wasn’t sure what she was waking up into, but she knew one thing: she was no longer the same person who had arrived here.
Aunt Viv dedicated entire afternoons to teaching Emilia the history of the Valois family. The library was huge, filled with books older than anything Emilia had ever touched. It also had ladders erected on the shelves that reached so high that she wasn't eager to climb anyone of them.
Aunt Viv didn’t just read to her—she told stories as if she had been there herself. E
“Lucien Valois,” she said one afternoon, setting a heavy leather-bound book in front of Emilia. “The first of our bloodline. The one who shaped our family into what it is today.”
Emilia traced the name on the page. “What did he do?”
Aunt Viv’s lips curled into a small smile. “He conquered. Entire villages feared his name. Not because he was cruel, but because he was unstoppable. He fought wars before humans even knew they were happening. The Valois were the unseen kings of the old world.”
Emilia flipped through the pages. “And what about this one? Adrienne Valois?”
“Ah, Adrienne,” Aunt Viv mused. “She was different. A queen in her own right, and feared more than any man. She could control minds with just a whisper. Kings, warriors, even our own kind—she made them all bow.”
Emilia’s fingers landed on another name. “Matthias Valois?”
Aunt Viv’s expression darkened slightly. “Matthias was dangerous. A genius, but dangerous. He experimented with blood magic, tried to push our kind beyond our limits. Some say he was successful. Others say he was cursed.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “And some believe he never truly died.”
Emilia swallowed hard, her eyes lingering on the faded ink. The weight of the Valois name pressed down on her. She was part of this now.
That night, she had a dream.
Emilia was floating above the graveyard near Valois Manor. The sky was an eerie shade of gray, thick clouds swirling as if a storm was brewing. Below her, tombstones stretched endlessly, old and forgotten. Bats clung to the stone crosses, their wings tucked close to their bodies, while vultures perched like ominous statues, watching the world with dead eyes.
Then, she saw the birds move in their numbers, flapping their wings ferociously.
The vultures attacked first.
They lunged at the bats, claws outstretched, beaks tearing through wings. The bats screeched, some trying to flee, others fighting back. It was chaos—wings flapping, shrieks filling the night air. Bodies of the bats were falling onto the graves below.
Then they turned on her.
The vultures shot toward her, eyes glowing, beaks open wide. Emilia reacted without thinking. She moved faster than she had ever moved before, twisting in the air, dodging their attacks. Her hands stretched out, and without knowing how, she crushed one mid-flight. Another dove at her, and she grabbed it by the throat, snapping its neck with ease.
She wasn’t afraid. She was powerful.
One by one, she cut them down until there were none left. The silence that followed was heavy. Then, the bats began to move toward her. Not in attack, but in something else—acknowledgment. They gathered around her and flapped in harmony, adoring her. Some landed on her arms, their tiny claws gripping her skin, their wings brushing against her. Others settled on her shoulders, as if claiming her as one of their own.
And then, she woke up.
She woke up to find Luca beside her, wiping sweat from her forehead. His fingers were gentle but his expression was unreadable.
“You were having a nightmare,” he murmured.
Emilia blinked up at him, still caught between the dream and reality. “I saw… vultures. And bats. They were fighting.” She swallowed, trying to steady her breath. “I could control them.”
Luca studied her carefully. “And what did you do?”
“I killed them,” she admitted.
"The bats?" He asked quickly as if she had done something wrong.
"No, Luca. The vultures," she shifted on the bed. The dream was too vivid. She felt somewhat drained.
Luca let out a sigh of relief, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. “I had a dream too.”
Emilia’s breath hitched. “What?”
His gaze was steady. “It was exactly the same as yours.”
A strange silence settled between them. A shared dream? Could it be an effect of the blood oath?
Emilia hesitated before speaking again. “Luca… last night, I saw you.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Saw me?”
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “I woke up, and you were gone. You went into the sanctuary.”
Luca’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t confirm or deny it. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a slow, deep kiss to her lips. His hands slid down her arms, anchoring her to him. The frustration, the questions—everything blurred for a moment. He had that effect on her, and he knew it.
When he pulled back, his voice was soft. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”
Emilia wanted to argue, but his lips found her neck, trailing soft kisses along her skin. She sighed, sinking into the moment. He was too intoxicating, too impossible to resist.
Maybe she would push for answers later.
Morning light filtered through the curtains as Emilia sat up in bed. Luca was already gone. Again.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair. The dream still clung to her thoughts, but something else tugged at her attention. A strange, unsettling scent.
Rot.
She turned her head slowly toward the vanity.
Lying beneath it, sprawled on the floor, was a dead vulture.
Its wings were torn, its body stiff, its beady eyes dull and lifeless.
She screamed as loud and as long as her lungs could.
Aunt Viv, Luca and Cyrus rushed into the bedroom.
With trembling fingers and horrified eyes, Emilia pointed at the dead bird from a distance.