PRIME APEX

The chamber was dimly lit, the torches casting flickering shadows against the ancient stone walls.

The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a heady mix of spice and something darker—older.

Vlad stood before me, an unmoving sentinel of shadow and control. His crimson eyes bore into mine, assessing, waiting.

The weight of centuries clung to him like a second skin, yet his presence was deceptively calm. Like a predator who knew the exact moment to strike.

"Once we begin, there is no turning back," he murmured.

His voice was silk and steel, wrapping around my spine and tightening.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms.

"I know."

Xander had been reluctant to leave, but this ritual demanded solitude. I could still feel his hesitation lingering in the air, thick and unspoken, even though he was no longer here.

Vlad reached into his coat and withdrew a dagger. The blade was dark—almost black—etched with intricate carvings that pulsed with an eerie, faint glow.

The symbols twisted as if they were alive, shifting with the flicker of the firelight.

"This blade carries the history of countless marks," he stated, slowly rotating it in his hand.

"It's not meant for the clash of steel, but for sacred ceremony." He paused.

"Yet, the mark it will make today... it will be unlike any other."

A chill crawled down my spine. The dagger felt heavier in the air, its very presence exuding a power I didn't fully understand.

"For this mark to take hold, I must taste your blood from its source," he continued, his voice steady.

"And in return, you must taste mine."

I forced my breathing to remain even. I had known this was coming. Known that he would have to drink from my neck—the oldest, purest way for a vampire to take blood.

Vlad took a slow step forward, and suddenly, the space between us was nothing.

"Your blood will call to me," he murmured, his gaze darkening, "but I will not take more than I should. And you—"

He lifted the dagger, letting the firelight dance over its lethal edge.

"You must take one drop of mine. That is how the bond is sealed."

My stomach tightened, but I stood my ground. I had no other choice. Dracule had warned me—without these marks, I wouldn't survive.

Vlad studied my face for a long moment. "Do you trust me?"

I didn't trust him because I wanted to. I trusted him because I had to.

"I do," I said.

A flicker of something crossed his face—something unreadable. Then, with practiced precision, he lifted the dagger and pressed the tip against his palm.

A single, swift movement and dark blood welled up, thick and rich, shimmering under the torchlight like liquid garnets.

He extended the dagger toward me.

"Your turn."

I inhaled sharply, the cool metal biting into my palm as I dragged the blade across my skin.

My blood mixed with his instantly, and the moment they touched, the air around us thickened—charged with something ancient and unseen.

Vlad took my wounded hand in his, bringing it between us. His fingers were cool, his grip firm but careful.

Then his gaze flicked to my throat.

My breath hitched.

Before I could react, he leaned in.

His lips brushed against my skin first—soft, almost reverent. Then, a sharp sting.

Fangs.

A gasp tore from my throat as his teeth sank in—not deep, just enough to break the barrier, to taste.

A rush of heat shot through me, spreading outward from the bite, threading through my veins like wildfire. My blood pulsed, responding, awakening.

I had expected pain.

What I felt instead was something else entirely.

A slow pull. A tether forming between us, something unseen but real. Vlad's grip on my hand tightened as he drank, controlled, measured. His body trembled slightly, the predator in him battling instinct.

His breath shuddered against my skin.

Then, suddenly—he stopped.

He withdrew, his fangs retracting, his lips stained crimson. His body was rigid, his chest rising and falling with restraint.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed, reverent.

"Powerful."

The word curled in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

"Your turn."

My legs wavered, but I refused to falter. I met his gaze and squared my shoulders.

Vlad extended his bleeding hand toward me. A single drop of his blood poised at his fingertip. Dark, rich, laced with something I couldn't name.

I hesitated. This was the final step.

"Take it," he whispered.

I parted my lips.

The drop of blood touched my tongue.

The effect was immediate.

Fire ignited in my veins, searing, twisting, unraveling something inside me.

My vision blurred—then sharpened to an unbearable clarity. The chamber melted away, the stone walls dissolving into nothing.

I was somewhere else.

Darkness. And then—light.

A figure stood before me, neither solid nor formless, shifting like mist in moonlight.

"The Prime Apex must rise."

The voice was not human. It was vast. Unfathomable. It did not speak in words but in meaning.

Flashes of memory that were not my own ripped through my mind—ancient battles, rulers long forgotten, the weight of a thousand years pressed into my skull.

A lineage written in blood and sacrifice.

It crushed me.

I gasped.

And just like that—I was back.

The chamber reassembled itself around me, the weight of stone and torchlight grounding me in reality.

My body trembled, my breath ragged.

Vlad was watching me, waiting. His expression unreadable.

For the first time, I saw something in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

Recognition.

Understanding.

Something deeper.

I swayed, my body rebelling against the storm raging inside me. Before I could collapse, Vlad's hands caught me. His grip was strong, unyielding.

His voice, though calm, betrayed something beneath the surface.

"You're okay?"

It was almost concern. Almost.

I forced a nod. My mouth was dry, my mind still trying to catch up with what had just happened.

Then, I heard doors crashing open before everything went dark.