Vlad looked at Elena, seeing both the fear and the hope in her eyes. “We have bought a fragile peace, but at a price. The world will remember this night as the .”

Months later, the sun rose over Transylvania, its golden light touching the castle walls for the first time in centuries. Vlad stood on the balcony, his skin tinged with the faintest hint of dawn—an impossible, fleeting glimpse of humanity.

Mihnea emerged from the darkness, his claws dripping with ancient blood. “You should not have come,” he warned. “The heart belongs to us, not to mortals.”