NOCTURNE REQUIEM

Pain.

A scorching, relentless agony tore through her body, every breath she took felt like shards of glass slowly sliced her lungs. The taste of blood coated her tongue, thick and metallic, the scent of it saturating the air.

The world around her was a blur of flickering flames, shattered stone, and bodies strewn like discarded dolls. The resistance had fallen.

Selene Raine lay sprawled on the cracked cobblestones of the city square, the once-proud leader of the human rebellion strikeforce was now nothing more than a bloodstained scrap beside her.

Her body felt foreign, as if she were slipping away from it, limbs growing heavier by each second.

The wound in her stomach gaped wide, her lifeblood spilling into the cracks beneath her. Dimly, she registered the chaotic sounds of battle fading, human screams silenced one after the other, replaced by the guttural growls of vampires claiming their victory.

She had failed.

The realization hit harder than the pain.

All those years of fighting, the countless sacrifices, the blood spilled in pursuit of a future where humans would no longer be livestock. And now, it was all over. She had led her people straight into a massacre.

A cough rattled her chest, warm blood trickling from her lips.

Selene forced her head to turn, her vision swimming as she searched the battlefield for the one thing that had made her defiance worth it.

There. Among the ruins and corpses, a small figure trembled behind the remains of a toppled carriage.

A child, no older than ten, their face streaked with soot and fear. They shouldn't have been here. They should have run, hidden and survived on their own.

But Selene had shielded them, throwing herself between them and an untimely death.

And now, they were still alive while she was doomed to die.

A bitter smile touched her lips. Maybe it wasn't all for nothing.

Selene watched as her deputy slowly crawled out of the carriage, bloody, battered and bruised as she struggled to coax the shocked child into a safe hiding space.

When their eyes met, Alina's eyes widened, not at Selene but at the figure standing several feet before her condemned body.

A shadow fell over Selene, long and sharp against the crimson-soaked ground. Heavy boots approached, the slow, deliberate stride of someone who had no reason to rush.

She felt the air grow colder, a chill that had nothing to do with the night. A presence she had learned to fear, even before she had ever laid eyes on him.

Lucian Valcrest.

The executioner of rebels. The vampire lord whispered about in hushed tones, his name synonymous with death.

Selene's fingers twitched, instinct screaming at her to fight, to move, but her body betrayed her. She was too weak, too broken. Even if she could lift her blade, what difference would it make?

A low voice, smooth as silk yet edged with steel, reached her ears. "You fought well."

She forced her gaze upward, meeting eyes that burned like embers in the darkness.

Crimson irises, bottomless and unreadable, studied her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. His face, carved from shadow and moonlight, was devoid of emotion. Not cruel, not gloating; just... silent. Observing.

Selene's laugh came out a rasping wheeze. "Spare me the sentiment."

Lucian tilted his head, as though considering her words. The flickering light in the underground tunnel cast shifting shadows across his sharp features, making it impossible to tell if there was amusement or pity in his crimson gaze.

His face was a masterpiece of unnatural perfection; high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips that rarely revealed emotion. His pale skin seemed almost luminous under the dim glow, an eerie contrast to the darkness that surrounded them.

Long, jet-black hair framed his face, a few stray strands falling across his forehead as he observed her with cold curiosity.

Then, he crouched beside her, his movements fluid and effortless, like a predator descending upon wounded prey.

The rich fabric of his coat rustled slightly, it's dark embroidery glinting with a subtle sheen of silver thread. Everything about him exuded power, from the way his fitted gloves molded to his fingers to the effortless authority in his posture.

Selene tried to move, but her body refused to obey. Her fingers trembled, slick with blood, as she clawed at the stone beneath her. Every breath rattled in her lungs, a cruel reminder that life was slipping away.

A gloved hand reached out, pressing against the gaping wound in her stomach. Not in an attempt to heal.

But to still.

To end.

A final mercy.

White-hot agony flared through her nerves, and she bit back a scream. Her vision swam, black spots creeping in at the edges, but she refused to look away. If this was how she died, then she would face it head-on.

Lucian's hand lingered, his touch impossibly steady. Too steady. His gaze flickered, eyes flashing from red to gray,

And just for a moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes. A hesitation. A crack in the perfect mask of indifference.

Darkness loomed at the edges of her vision, threatening to claim her. But still, she forced out the words, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Go to hell."

Lucian's lips curled, barely a smirk, barely anything at all. "You first."

And then, the world went black.

Silence.

A void. A vast, endless nothingness stretching beyond comprehension. No sensation. No pain. No warmth. No time. Just an abyss where thought itself unraveled, dissolving into the darkness.

Her head felt empty as her weightless body floated aimlessly,

Then, a whisper.

A soundless presence, not a voice but a ripple through the emptiness. Cold, mechanical, intrusive.

It seeped through the void, threading its way into the frayed remnants of her awareness.

[Rebooting system...]

The words slithered across the edges of her mind, a command rather than a statement.

Something stirred. A flicker of consciousness, foreign and unfamiliar. Like a marionette tugged by invisible strings, she felt herself being pulled back, piece by piece, thought by thought, toward something solid.

[Initializing new directive....]

A gasp shattered the silence.

Selene's body convulsed as she surged back into existence, lungs dragging in a sea of air that she no longer needed.

Blinding light seared her vision, the sudden flood of sensation slamming into her like a tidal wave.

Every nerve burned with icy fire, every fiber of her being thrumming with something unnatural. Strength. Hunger. Power.

The realization hit her like a death knell.

She wasn't dead.

No; something was wrong. Terribly, irreversibly wrong.

Her ears rang, but beneath the sharp whine, she could hear everything; the distant hum of electricity crawling through the walls, the faintest shuffle of movement, the slow, measured breath of someone standing nearby.

The air was thick with scent, sharper than before. Stone; cold and sterile. The metallic tang of blood; too strong, too intoxicating. And worst of all,

She couldn't hear the repetitive pumping of blood in her chest,

Her heart wasn't beating.

Selene inhaled sharply, but there was no comforting rhythm in her chest, no familiar pulse to ground her.

Just the empty cavern where life had once resided. The absence of it was more deafening than any sound.

A shadow loomed above her.

She recognized him immediately,

Lucian Valcrest.

His presence was undeniable, dark and commanding, but there was something in his stance, in the way his silver eyes fixed on her with an intensity she couldn't decipher. Not triumph. Not cruelty.

Hesitation.

Selene's fingers curled against the stone beneath her. Her body felt alien, stronger, sharper, but not her own. It was as if every muscle had been reforged, honed to perfection, yet tinged with something monstrous.

The whisper returned, devoid of warmth, devoid of mercy.

[Welcome, Selene Raine.]

And with those words, the truth sank into her bones, colder than the void she had just escaped.

She had become the very thing she had sworn to destroy.

A vampire.