Through the Flames

CAROLINE

^FIFTEEN HOURS BEFORE^

The pantsuit just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I found myself gazing into my open closet, its contents a silent tribute to my centuries-long existence.

Even when the manor was being ransacked, I had fiercely protected this collection. Silks, cashmeres, and linens, all meticulously maintained, were a tangible reminder of my past extravagances.

My fingers grazed a crimson silk dress, its fabric cool and whisper-soft, before brushing against the rough denim of a cherished jean jacket. Born in the era of corsets and crinolines, I held no affection for those restrictive garments.

The early twentieth century was my heyday: flapper dresses, crop tops, and high-waisted jeans—emblems of freedom and sophistication. I had eagerly discarded my brocade gowns and riding habits, embracing styles that allowed me to breathe, move, and feel alive.

I was a twentieth-century girl at heart.

A faint smile crossed my lips. For my four-hundredth birthday, Mother had promised to introduce me to the world of human fashion. Eloise Mcnoxnoctis, my glamorous second cousin, was a model, and her mother, Aleesha, owned a successful fashion line.

Mother had imagined me among them, designing, creating, and adding beauty to life. But that dream is dead now. At least, for now.

I didn’t anticipate the pureblood community to welcome us back with open arms. It was something we’d have to fight for. And I was ready to fight.

To reclaim my crown by force, just like we did thousands of years ago. I would regain their respect—or they would die. It was as simple as that.

I slipped into a pair of high-waisted jeans and a red cashmere sweater, tucking it in with practiced ease. I studied my reflection.

My long blonde hair flowed down my back like a smooth, silky waterfall, and my blue eyes—Grandfather Lucius’s eyes, inherited by Alexander and me—stared back at me. My fingers traced my collarbone.

I pursed my lips in irritation. I missed my jewels. They had always completed my outfits. Another thing they had taken from us.

I would reclaim my throne. I would hunt down that usurper and annihilate her and her entire family. I was an adult now, and I wouldn’t just lie down and accept defeat like the rest of my family.

My determination was unwavering as I began to sort through my clothes. The last I heard, the new royals, the Ravn family, were residing in their castle near Tours.

I was confident my family wouldn’t report my disappearance. They would keep it a secret from the prying Mcnoxnoctis guards. But being caught by anyone would mean an immediate death sentence.

I couldn’t use planes or public transportation. I had no money. I would have to walk.

I packed a bag, throwing in jeans, crop tops, sweaters, one nice dress, and my favorite pair of boots. I would travel the old-fashioned way, feeding when I needed to—always moving forward.

Like a true vampire.

My heart thumped once, filled with anticipation and excitement. I was finally leaving this godforsaken place. Tossing my bag onto my bed, I looked out the windows.

It was getting late, and the sun was already setting. I would escape tomorrow, using that tunnel Alexander always used. He had never been caught.

I threw myself onto my bed, grinning for the first time in years. I would reclaim my throne, and I would be queen. I let my eyes close as I snuggled into my covers.

A loud crash had me sitting up straight. Immediately, I smelled the smoke—thick, acrid, suffocating.

The heat was unbearable. It pressed against me, clawing at my skin. Something was on fire—something big.

I jumped off the bed and grabbed my packed bag. I slung it over my shoulder and pushed open my bedroom door. Smoke filled the hallway.

Thick and dark, it coiled around me like a predator. The air was heavy, choking me and stinging my eyes. The crackling sound grew louder—a terrifying symphony of destruction.

The manor was on fire. My home was on fire. We’d finally lost everything.

I screamed in frustration. The sound ripped from my throat, raw and guttural. My eyes glowed crimson, my fangs heavy on my lips.

The overwhelming urge to destroy—to kill—surged through me. But there was nothing to fight except the flames consuming everything I had left. I needed to get out.

The manor was coming down. I sprinted down the corridor, the scorching heat nipping at my skin.

I clutched the railing and vaulted over it, landing with a thud in the grand hall below. I was rooted to the spot in terror.

Fire was everywhere. It danced on the walls, slithered across the floor, and devoured everything in its path. The heat was a deafening roar in my ears.

I seized the handles of the front door and yanked them open. Sunlight slapped me in the face, blistering and relentless. My blood felt like it was on fire.

A scream ripped from my throat as I slammed the doors shut again. I stumbled back, gasping for breath, my skin sizzling where the light had hit me.

I turned to face the inferno again. The staircase I’d descended was already swallowed by the flames.

Smoke swirled, thick and suffocating, clouding my vision. My heart pounded in my chest, and my fear spiked. Death could be imminent; I was trapped in a burning house, in broad daylight.

Purebloods had perished this way. I looked up. I could hear the flames, snapping, crackling, and spitting.

The second floor was caving in, beams dropping like fiery meteors. I knew it had reached my room by now; I knew it was consuming my clothes.

The third floor groaned ominously, threatening to follow suit. I had to move.

I hissed in anger, in frustration. I battled the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I wouldn’t be weak. I had to be strong.

I clutched my backpack and plunged back into the smoke and flames. There was only one other safe way out of this mansion—Alexander’s damned secret tunnel.

I ducked and dodged under flaming ceilings, narrowly avoiding falling beams, burning tapestry drifting down, and broken floorboards crumbling to ash.

My lungs cried out for air, and the bitter smoke made my eyes water uncontrollably. My chest ached with every breath.

I climbed higher, toward the fifth floor. Here, there was less smoke and fewer flames. I moved swiftly, ignoring the searing pain of my heated skin.

The floor beneath me collapsed with a deafening crack. I fell into a room already consumed by fire.

Flames licked up my arms, gnawing at my skin. I screamed as the heat seared through me, the pain so intense it blurred my vision.

Through the haze, a figure moved toward me. My senses were so scrambled I couldn’t even identify who it was.

Then my father was there, in front of me. He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the flames, draping a wet blanket over my body.

“Father,” I gasped as the flames subsided on my skin. I looked up at him, wide-eyed.

His face came into focus, ash smearing his pale skin. His crimson eyes blazed with resolve.

“Get out of here, Caroline,” he commanded. His voice was steady and authoritative, even as the fire roared around us.

He pushed me toward a gap in the flames. “Keep the blanket on. It will prevent you from catching fire again.”

I scrambled to my feet, clutching my bag and the wet blanket. I was rushing toward the hole in the flames when I felt Father pulling away from me.

I spun around, my mind whirling, trying to keep up.

“Come on!” I urged.

He stared at me with wide crimson eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

I stared at him in horror, my breath catching in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t possibly be planning to stay. Not when I needed him.

His eyes softened as he looked at me. There was no anger, no fear. Only a profound sense of…finality.

“I’m not leaving this place, Caroline.”

The words hit me like a punch. My mind refused to accept them.

“What do you mean you’re not leaving?” I spat. I could feel the tears starting to blur my vision. “You can’t stay here, Father! It’s on fire! You’ll die!”

His gaze was steady, but there was a sadness in it that twisted something deep inside me.

“My dear child,” he murmured, his hand reaching to cup my cheek. His touch was gentle, but it felt like it was made of stone. “It’s my time.”

“No!” I screamed, my heart shattering. “You’re the true heir to the throne! You can’t just give up! You’re Grandfather Lucius’s only living child! We need you!”

I could feel the desperation building inside me, the fear and the dread that I couldn’t suppress. He couldn’t die.

He had to be the one to lead us, to reclaim what was ours.

His gaze met mine, a look of surrender I couldn’t comprehend. “I have you, Caroline,” he murmured. “And Alex and Jess. You’re the ones who’ll keep the family name alive.”

“But we need you!” I cried out, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, tears streaming down my face.

Dad shook his head. “No, you’ll all be better off without me. I’m certain of it.”

His words sent a cold, bitter chill down my spine. It felt like everything I knew was slipping away, and I was powerless to stop it.

“No, we won’t! We’re a family! We need to stick together!”

He didn’t answer right away. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the distant rumble of falling stone.

Then, he spoke again, his words deliberate and slow. “Is that why you’re packed?”

A burning tapestry fell between us. I gasped, jumping back from the flames.

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. His eyes were full of understanding—and something else, something sharp and painful.

His gaze softened, and with a bitter smile, he whispered, “I only wanted you to be happy, my darling.”

I shook my head.

“No, Dad, you didn’t,” I said, shaking my head with conviction. “You wanted us to be strong, to be leaders. You never cared about our happiness!”

He looked hurt and confused.

“That’s not true.”

“You never stood up for us; you never defended Alexander when he stood up to Grandpa.”

His expression grew more pained, and he turned away from me.

“You can’t just give up on us!” I snapped. “You can’t just give up…”

But even as the words left my mouth, I knew.

He had already given up in his heart. He had accepted that he wouldn’t survive this—that his time was up.

I couldn’t stand it.

I couldn’t stand him choosing this over us—over everything we had fought for.

He pushed me toward the gap in the flames, his hands firm, no longer gentle.

“Go now, Caroline,” he said.

In the split second it took me to turn around, he threw himself into the fire.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. As I watched, his flesh burned; my father waved goodbye. My heart pounded in my chest, and my tears mixed with blood, soaking my face.

I gasped, frozen in place.

When the floor where he had been standing collapsed, falling to the floor below, I was jolted out of my shock.

I had no choice now. I had to survive. I had to keep moving.

Choking, frantically wiping away my bloody tears, I turned and ran. The entire manor was shaking, creaking, and popping. It was about to collapse.

I sprinted down the hallway, the smoke stinging my eyes, the heat searing my skin even through the protective blanket. It didn’t matter. The fire was everywhere, devouring everything in its path.

I rounded the corner toward the main hall, desperate, gasping for air. The marble columns were cracking, chunks of ceiling falling in slow, heavy pieces. The manor was falling apart. It was no longer my home. It was a tomb, a charred ruin of what we once were.

I barely noticed the burning pain in my skin as I ran, the fire nipping at my heels, the smoke choking me. My mind was focused on one thing—escape.

I burst into the main hall. The bright sunlight hit me like a physical blow. I screamed and retreated back into the dark hallway. The grand entrance was now a shattered remnant of its former glory. The doors had splintered and fallen, reduced to a pile of charred wood.

The sunlight was closing in.

I didn’t have many options. I had to dig.

I grabbed a piece of marble column from the floor and smashed it against the marble floor. It cracked. I slammed it down again. It shattered. Using my fingers, I cleared away the stone and began to dig into the dirt with desperation.

The manor groaned above me. Fire rained down on my back. I hissed in pain.

Finally, I made a hole large enough to crawl into. I didn’t stop to consider any other options. I just shoved the largest piece of marble I could find over the opening and dove inside, my body screaming in protest with every move.

I tucked myself into the tiny space, my heart hammering against my ribs. The world outside was a blaze of chaos, the manor creaking and groaning above me, but down here, beneath the earth, it was eerily silent.

The crackling of the fire was audible, but it felt far away. The heat wasn’t as intense anymore. So, I stayed put, trembling, tears streaming down my face.

The fire seemed to rage on forever, the world above me swallowed by smoke and flames. My injuries were healing, but the pain in my heart was relentless.

The silence was deafening now. The emptiness was overwhelming. The weight of the loss was crushing me.

I couldn’t escape it. My father was no more, and nothing would ever be the same.

Despite the sun’s heat seeping through the stone, the marble managed to keep me somewhat cool. I could faintly hear my siblings, Alexander and Jessica. I had no idea where they were.

But I was relieved to know they were alive. My thoughts were a whirlwind all day; sleep eluded me.

All I could see was the image of my father engulfed in flames. His smile, his casual wave. I wiped my tears, despising him, despising myself, despising my entire family.

When the fire finally started to die down, the crackling of the burning manor fading to a distant murmur, I knew it was time to act. With a final, weary grunt, I pushed the marble stone off the hole and climbed out onto the charred earth.

The land was burned and blackened, and all that remained of my family’s legacy was ash. I allowed myself a brief moment to gaze at the ruins before snapping back to reality.

I couldn’t afford to dwell on what was lost. I had to keep moving. There was only one thing left for me to do.

I had to reclaim my throne—or die in the attempt.