The castle rose from the mountains like a wound in the world.

  Black obsidian spires clawed into storm-choked skies. Veins of crimson Ni glowed faintly through the stone, as if the fortress itself had a pulse. Ancient banners snapped in the wind—sigils older than the Volkov name, older than most kingdoms still standing.

  Kaelen felt it the moment they crossed the outer gate.

  Pressure.

  Not oppressive.

  Absolute.

  This place did not welcome weakness.

  The massive doors opened without a sound.

  Five figures stood waiting within the grand hall.

  They knelt as one.

  “Welcome home, My King.”

  Kaze Volrath, Vampire King of Noctyrr Vale, strode past them without slowing. His presence bent the air. His crimson eyes flicked toward Kaelen only once.

  Unreadable.

  “Rise,” Kaze commanded.

  The five generals stood.

  Kaelen studied them instinctively.

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  Every instinct screamed that each of them could kill him in seconds.

  Kaze continued toward the throne room. Kaelen followed in silence.

  The throne awaited—blackened stone fused with bone and ancient crystal.

  Kaze seated himself with casual authority, one arm resting along the throne’s edge like a predator at ease.

  His gaze sharpened.

  “Take the boy,” Kaze said to the servants near the pillars.

  “Warrior’s quarters. Feed him. Clean him. Arm him properly.”

  Kaelen opened his mouth—

  “Two hours,” Kaze added without looking at him. “Then bring him back.”

  Kaelen inclined his head and followed the servants out.

  The doors closed.

  Silence settled.

  Kaze leaned forward.

  “You deserve the truth,” he said to his generals.

  “The boy is Kaelen Volkov.”

  All five stiffened.

  “Son of Lyra Volkov,” Kaze continued calmly.

  “My daughter.”

  Shock rippled through the hall.

  “He will remain here for the next two years,” Kaze said.

  “For the first six months, each of you will break him.”

  He gestured, naming them one by one.

  “Zev Arclight. Lightning mastery.”

  Zev bowed deeply. “I will burn weakness from him.”

  “Sera Nightveil. Shadow mastery.”

  She smiled faintly. “He will learn to disappear.”

  “Roric Bloodbane. Blood mastery.”

  Roric thumped his chest. “Strength is paid for in suffering.”

  Kaze’s eyes hardened. “He will not beg.”

  “Vex Thornblade. Weapons and assassination.”

  Vex inclined his head. “I’ll sharpen him.”

  “Lex Ironmind. Martial arts and mental stability.”

  Lex nodded once. “I’ll keep him sane.”

  Kaze rose.

  “After each day,” he said quietly,

  “the boy trains with me.”

  The room chilled.

  “If he breaks—he dies.”

  Silence.

  Then—

  “He’s fourteen,” Zev said.

  “And Volkov,” Sera replied.

  “That blood will scream,” Roric laughed.

  “I like him,” Vex said.

  “He’ll survive,” Lex said.

  Kaze sat back down.

  “He must.”

  The doors opened.

  Kaelen returned—cleaned, fed, posture straighter, weapons secured at his sides.

  Kaze met his gaze.

  “Good,” the Vampire King said.

  “Training begins tomorrow.”

  Kaelen nodded.

  Unaware that his hell had already begun.