The air between them was thick with the scent of sandalwood and Kora’s fading panic. Valerius did not set her down immediately. He held her suspended against his chest, her heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. To Kora, his touch felt like a brand—cold, absolute, and agonizingly steady.

  "Put me down," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and fury.

  Valerius obeyed, but only partially. He set her feet on the solid stone of the mezzanine but kept his hands on her shoulders, pinning her in place. "You were ready to fall to your death just to escape my shadow," he observed, his voice a low, clinical rasp. "Is the Solaris King truly so much kinder than I am?"

  "My father is a monster," Kora spat, finally finding the strength to shove his hands away. She stepped back, putting distance between her 160cm frame and his towering presence. "But at least in Elysia, I knew the rules of my cage. You... you look at me like I’m a miracle one second and a specimen the next. It’s sickening."

  Valerius’s expression didn't soften. He adjusted his cufflink, the rational executive returning to the surface. "Miracles are for those who believe in luck, Kora. I believe in results. Your blood has the potential to stabilize my cellular decay, but your magic... your magic is currently a mess of untrained impulses."

  He began to walk down the hallway, not checking to see if she followed. He knew she had nowhere else to go. "You will eat. You will bathe. And in one hour, you will meet me in the training sanctum. We are going to see exactly how much of a 'weapon' Malakor truly built."

  "I told you, I won't help you!" Kora shouted after him.

  Valerius stopped at the end of the hall, turning his head just enough to catch her eye. "You won't be helping me, Princess. You’ll be helping yourself. Because if you cannot control that magic, the next Blue Moon won't just weaken you—it will hollow you out until there’s nothing left to save."

  The training sanctum was a room of white light and reinforced steel, located deep in the heart of the Dominion. When Kora arrived, she found Valerius waiting. He had removed his jacket, his white shirt sleeves rolled up.

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  "Strike me," he commanded, standing in the center of the room.

  Kora blinked. "What?"

  "You spent twelve years hiding," Valerius said, stepping into her personal space, his eyes dark and challenging. "You suppressed your scent, your healing, and your power. You made yourself small. Now, I want you to be loud. Use that violet light you’re so proud of. Try to kill the monster in front of you."

  Kora’s hatred flared, white-hot and jagged. It was the invitation she had been waiting for—a chance to strike back at the predator who had claimed her. She closed her eyes, reaching deep into the abyss of her soul for the spark of magic she had spent a decade trying to smother. She channeled every fractured memory: her mother’s final screams, the copper stench of the Blood Moon feasts, and the suffocating weight of Valerius’s iron grip on her wrists.

  When she snapped her eyes open, a pulse of violet energy exploded from her palms like a lightning strike, aimed directly at his heart. But it wasn't just her magic that had changed. While her left eye remained its natural shade, her right eye ignited with a brilliant, piercing gold radiance. It was the mark of her fractured lineage—the burning sign of the High Witch's blood awakening within a vampire’s daughter. For a fleeting second, the "useless" princess was gone, replaced by a half-breed goddess of fury, her golden gaze locking onto Valerius as she poured her entire soul into the strike.

  Valerius didn't move. The magic hit his chest with the sound of a thunderclap, but he stood his ground, the energy dissipating against his skin like water against a rock. He didn't even look pained. Instead, he looked disappointed.

  "Is that it?" he mocked, taking a slow step toward her. "That was a tantrum, Kora. Not an attack. Your father gave you the blood of a High Witch, and you’re using it like a candle in the wind."

  "I am not a killer!" she screamed, the magic beginning to swirl around her in an unstable vortex.

  "Then you are a victim," Valerius countered, his voice rising to match her energy. He grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at the violet light burning between them. "In this world, you either own your power or someone else owns you. Choose, Kora. Be the weapon, or be the trophy."

  He pushed her back, and for the first time, Kora didn't see the executive or the commander. She saw a mirror of her own rage.

  Driven by a sudden, frantic impulse, she didn't use her magic. She lunged forward and slapped him—a human strike, raw and desperate. The sound echoed in the sterile room. Valerius’s head turned with the force of the blow. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Kora held her breath, waiting for the retaliation, for the iron grip, for the fangs.

  Instead, Valerius turned back to her, a slow, terrifyingly beautiful smile spreading across his face. He touched his cheek where her hand had landed, his eyes glowing with a dark, newfound respect."Better," he whispered. "At least that was honest."