The door yielded without protest.

That was the first warning Luna ignored.

Beyond it lay a circular chamber open to the night sky, its ceiling torn away to reveal a moon drowned in slow-moving clouds. The blood altar stood at the center, carved from obsidian veined with pulsing red light. Sigils crawled endlessly across its surface, reforming as soon as they were broken, fed by something deeper than spellcraft.

Rosemund waited there.

She was seated at the edge of the altar as though it were a throne, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed, elegant. Her hair spilled down her back like liquid shadow, her skin pale and unblemished, untouched by the corruption that stained everything else in the manor. She looked less like a monster and more like a noblewoman awaiting a late guest.

Behind her, bound within a lattice of glowing runes, lay Baroness Martha.

She was alive.

Barely.

Her wrists were shackled above her head, her body suspended just enough that her feet could not quite touch the stone. Thin lines of blood ran from shallow cuts along her arms, flowing downward into channels carved into the altar. Each pulse of the sigils drew more from her, not enough to kill quickly, but enough to keep the magic fed.

Rosemund smiled when she saw Luna.

"You made it farther than I expected," she said softly. Her voice carried easily, smooth and unhurried. "Gustav spoke highly of you. Carlone less so, though silence was always his failing."

Luna stepped forward, staff trembling slightly in her grip. Her mana felt thin, frayed, like cloth worn too long at the edges.

"Release her," Luna said. "This ends now."

Rosemund tilted her head, regarding her with mild curiosity. "Ends?" She glanced back at Martha, then back at Luna. "You misunderstand. This is what keeps it from beginning again."

With a lazy gesture, Rosemund traced a symbol in the air. The runes flared brighter. Martha gasped, her body arching as pain tore a hoarse cry from her throat.

Luna moved without thinking.

"Aegis—"

The spell shattered before it formed.

Rosemund stood before her in an instant, fingers pressed lightly against Luna's forehead. The world went silent. No mana. No flow. Just pressure, absolute and crushing.

"You are empty," Rosemund whispered. "Brave, persistent… and empty."

She stepped back, leaving Luna staggering but upright. "You see, sorcerer, I never intended to kill her quickly. Fear sustains obedience far better than corpses. The villages learned that. The baroness learned that."

Luna forced herself to breathe, mind racing, searching for anything left to give. "You're wrong," she said hoarsely. "It ends because I'm here."

Rosemund's smile softened. Almost sad.

"You are here too late."

She turned, pressing her palm against the altar.

The sigils flared violently.

Martha screamed.

Not long. Not loud.

Just once.

The lattice shattered as her body went limp, the final breath leaving her in a soft, broken sound that vanished into the night. The blood channels overflowed, glowing brightly as the ritual completed itself.

Something in the air shifted. Settled.

The moment Baroness Martha's body went slack, the chamber seemed to inhale.

The blood channels along the altar flared violently, light surging through the carved veins until the obsidian pulsed like a living heart. The sigils stabilized, locking into a completed pattern that hummed with finality. Whatever pact Rosemund had been weaving for years had reached its end.

Luna felt it then.

Not grief first. Not despair.

Rage.

Her staff lifted of its own accord, mana screaming as something deep inside her tore itself open, dragging power from places she had no right to touch. The air warped around her, frost and shadow bleeding together, lightning snapping erratically across the stone.

Rosemund turned, eyes widening just slightly.

"There you are," the vampiress said softly. "I was wondering when you would stop holding back."

Luna did not answer.

She attacked.

"Ael'thara ven lux, thren ruina!"

A storm detonated outward, frost spears, lightning arcs, and compressed mana crashing toward Rosemund in a single, devastating wave. The altar shattered, stone exploding into the air. For a heartbeat, the chamber vanished beneath raw elemental force.

Rosemund disappeared.

Then she was behind Luna.

Pain exploded across Luna's back as Rosemund's strike landed, a blur of motion too fast to track. Luna was thrown forward, skidding across stone, barely managing to roll before a blood blade carved a trench where her head had been.

They clashed.

Luna fought like someone with nothing left to lose. Spells chained without pause, barriers forming and breaking in rapid succession. Frost locked Rosemund's limbs only to be torn apart by sheer vampiric strength. Lightning scorched pale skin that healed almost instantly. Shadow bindings snapped like thread.

Rosemund laughed.

"Yes," she said, voice carrying easily through the chaos. "This is what you should have been from the start."

She moved through Luna's spells, not avoiding them so much as enduring them, each impact feeding something dark and coiled beneath her skin. With a flick of her wrist, blood rose from the altar remnants, shaping itself into jagged spears that rained down relentlessly.

Luna countered, mana burning painfully as she forced one last incantation into shape.

"Glacies anima… finis—"

Rosemund was already there.

Her hand closed around Luna's throat.

The spell collapsed.

Rosemund lifted her effortlessly, eyes glowing a deep, hungry crimson. "You spent everything getting here," she whispered. "I have lived on sacrifices for decades."

She slammed Luna into the floor.

Stone cracked. Luna's vision shattered into white fragments. She felt ribs give way, breath tearing from her lungs in a broken gasp. She tried to rise. Her body refused.

Rosemund stood over her, unhurried, blood swirling lazily around her feet. "You may survive," she said thoughtfully. "Failure teaches better than death."

But Luna still had one last card.

Her right hand, hidden beneath her torn cloak, closed around the hilt of the slim dagger she'd kept sheathed against her forearm since the servants' wing. Rosemund leaned closer, savoring the moment, her flat chest rising and falling with calm breaths, offering no curve to shield the heart beneath.

Luna surged upward in one desperate, pain-fueled motion, closing the final inches of distance. The dagger flashed—driven deep, straight through Rosemund's chest at the exact position of her heart. The blade sank to the hilt with sickening ease, piercing clean through muscle and into the still-beating core.

Rosemund's eyes widened in genuine shock. A sharp, startled gasp escaped her lips. Blood—dark, thick, unnaturally warm—spilled over Luna's knuckles. For a single heartbeat the Vampiress froze, hand loosening around Luna's throat.

Luna twisted the blade once, hard.

Rosemund staggered back, releasing her. Dark blood poured from the wound, steaming faintly in the cold night air. The Vampiress pressed one pale hand to the puncture, surprise giving way to fury, then to something colder—calculation.

And just then, a thunderous scream tore through the chamber.

The Dark Pegasus crashed through the open archway, wings beating violently, shadow and wind ripping at the blood magic in the air. The bond flared, raw and desperate, yanking Luna's consciousness back from the edge.

Rosemund turned sharply, annoyance finally breaking her composure. "That thing should not still obey you."

The pegasus did not hesitate. It lowered its head, seized Luna by the cloak and shoulder with surprising care, and leapt.

They burst through the shattered wall, cold night air slamming into them as the manor fell away beneath. Blood spears followed, slicing past where they had been moments before, one grazing the pegasus's wing hard enough to draw a shriek of pain.

Luna clung weakly to its mane as they plummeted, wings catching the air at the last possible moment. The pegasus beat upward, hard and frantic, carrying them away from the manor as Rosemund's furious scream echoed behind them.

The lights of Rosemund Manor burned bright for a long time before fading into the distance.

High above the dark countryside, Luna's trembling fingers fumbled inside her cloak.

She drew the blood-slick dagger—still warm, still dripping—and with shaking hands uncorked a small glass vial from her belt pouch.

Slowly, carefully, she tilted the blade so Rosemund's dark blood ran along the edge and dripped into the vial, drop by drop. When it was half full, she stoppered it tightly, sealing the cork with a faint pulse of residual mana.

Then, despite the pain radiating through every bone, despite the blood still leaking from her own wounds, a thin, exhausted smile curved her lips.

She had not won tonight.

And she couldn't save the Baroness either. The mission given by the Blossom Tower has been failed.

However, she still succeeded in her personal mission. The blood drawn from the Vampiress Rosemund's heart has been secured. A smile appeared on her face. "Master..."

By dawn, Luna lay collapsed against the pegasus's side on a barren ridge miles away, body bruised and broken, mana burned nearly to nothing. She stared at the rising sun without seeing it.

A couple of days slipped by quietly.

When Qin Wei woke again, the room was still dim with early light. Thea lay beside him, bare skin warm against his chest, her arm wrapped around his waist in an unguarded, intimate hold. Her breathing was slow and even, the steady rhythm of deep sleep. Qin Wei groaned softly as he shifted, careful not to wake her. He gently lifted her arm away and eased himself out from beneath her.

She stirred faintly and turned to the side.

Qin Wei pulled the blanket up, tucking it around her shoulders before standing. He dressed quickly, movements practiced and silent, then slipped out of the room.

Outside, the world was just beginning to wake.

The first hints of dawn painted the sky with pale gold. As Qin Wei stepped into the courtyard, the two battle maids stationed nearby straightened at once, their hands moving instinctively toward their weapons before they recognized him.

"Good morning," Qin Wei said casually.

They relaxed, though their posture remained sharp.

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