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The moon hung heavy and red over the kingdom of RavenSpire, casting its eerie glow over the land like a warning from the gods themselves. The Blood Moon was a rare sight, one that had always been whispered about in superstitions and old folktales, but tonight-it felt different.

It felt like a curse awakening.

Lady Isolde Ravenspire stood at the edge of the castle's tallest tower, her silver eyes fixed on the ominous sky. The wind howled around her, lifting the ends of her long, raven-dark hair as she watched the crimson moon pulse, as if it were alive.

A chill ran down her spine.

It was said that when the moon bled, fate would be rewritten in blood.

She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the cold stone ledge. She had spent years denying the whispers of prophecy, of fate, of curses that bound her family to their ancient rivals-the D'Argents.

Yet, the moon's glow sent a strange pull through her veins, as if something in the darkness was calling to her.

A sharp knock at the door tore her from her thoughts.

"Enter," she said, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing Sir Alistair, one of her most trusted knights. His face was grim, his steel armor still dusted with dirt from the battlefield.

"My lady," he said, bowing slightly. "We have received word. The D'Argents have moved their forces beyond the border."

Isolde turned sharply. "They dare advance?"

Alistair nodded. "Their scouts were seen in the Blackwood forest. It seems Lord Lucien D'Argent himself is leading the charge."

Lucien.

Even his name was a curse on her tongue.

The vampire lord of House D'Argent, her sworn enemy, the man who had spent years waging war against her family. He was ruthless, cunning, and feared across the land-but there was something more dangerous about him than just his blade.

Something dark, something that unsettled her in ways she refused to admit.