The castle was alive with anticipation. For the first time in centuries, its halls were not echoing with war but with celebration. Layla and Dorian moved through the corridors, helping prepare for the engagement ceremony. Candles lined the walls, silken banners draped from the ceiling, and letters had already been sent to the other vampire clans — invitations to witness the union of Lucien and Iman.
Lucien stood at the center of it all, his eyes softer than anyone had ever seen them. "Tonight," he murmured, holding Iman's hand, "they will know you are mine, and I am yours."
But as the final touches were being made — the flowers arranged, the tables set — a sudden silence fell. Layla turned, her brow furrowed. "Iman?"
She was gone.
At first, they thought she had slipped away to prepare herself. But minutes stretched into an hour, and panic began to spread. Lucien tore through the halls, his voice echoing like thunder. "Iman!"
Dorian searched every chamber, every hidden passage. Layla's hands shook as she called out, her voice breaking. "She wouldn't just leave… she wouldn't!"
The castle was scoured from top to bottom, but there was no trace. No footprints, no sound, no scent. It was as if she had been swallowed by the air itself.
Then, as despair thickened, the great doors creaked open. A cloaked figure stepped inside — a messenger, his presence cold and deliberate. He carried no weapon, only a sealed scroll marked with the sigil of the Order.
Lucien's eyes burned crimson as he advanced. "Where is she?"
The messenger bowed mockingly, his voice smooth and venomous. "The bride is ours now. The Order sends its regards… and its warning. She will not return unless you surrender."
He dropped the scroll onto the stone floor, its wax seal glistening in the candlelight. Without another word, he vanished into the night, leaving only silence and dread behind.
Lucien's fists clenched, his rage barely contained. "They've taken her. On the day meant to bind us, they've stolen her away."
Layla's tears fell freely. "But why? Why now?"
Dorian's jaw tightened, his voice grim. "The invitations. The clans. Someone knew. Someone betrayed us."
Lucien's voice was a vow sharper than steel. "Then I will hunt them. I will tear through every clan, every shadow, until I find her. Iman will not be lost to me."
The celebration had turned into chaos. The day meant for vows had become the day of vanishing. And somewhere in the darkness, Iman was alone — her fate uncertain, her promise stolen.