Chapter 1
Lenore was a woman whose face had never been seen by anyone. Well, according to the family rule, everyone had to wear the skulls of their dragon ancestors as a mask. These skulls looked extremely ancient, millennia old, and their color was a deep black, almost evil and dark. Their aura radiated such intense power that no other living being dared to breathe when they were nearby.
Young dragons were obliged to wear the cursed mask until they were married; only then could they remove it and contemplate the colorful world for the first time.
Honestly, she didn't care whether or not she showed her face; she never cared what anyone thought or didn't think. Her father always said that you had to leave an impression worthy of a dragon from the Vandernacht family, in other words, make it clear that you possessed great power, capable of crushing anyone or anything in your path.
Unlike her father, Lenore wasn't interested in that. Although she always ended up in some kind of mess or fight, she could say that she didn't seek them out - in fact, it was the fights that sought her out.
Both with other young dragons and with her own father. Luckily, her older brother always got in the middle of the fights before they got any worse - for the other person, of course.
At the age of eleven, Lenore was learning fencing and magic. She was legitimately a Vandernacht - her talent for magic was undeniable, and her handling of the sword, or any other weapon, was precise and fluid. But it was all tedious. Don't get me wrong, Lenore loved fencing, but not enough to be truly entertained.
Luckily or unluckily for Lenore, she interacted with people of other species, especially children. Adults would sometimes approach her and start talking about... adult matters. She wasn't interested enough to understand what they were saying, so she just nodded in agreement.
One such interaction was with Montessor. Every time Lenore pronounced the boy's name, she felt a bad taste in her mouth.
Ugh.
She always felt sick when she was around him. Maybe it was because of the disgusting aura that surrounded him, or maybe it was really the boy's rotten smell - he looked like he'd never heard of a bath in his life. Theo said it was normal because of his species, but sometimes Lenore thought it was just a lame excuse not to bathe.
Montessor was stubborn and competitive - like father, like son. Montessor's father always showed up at the estate to flatter Thaddeus, Lenore's father. Well, no one wanted them as enemies, given the stories Theo told him about the fights and massacres his father had fought because he had been underestimated or offended. Lenore frowned whenever he told these stories. She only understood certain parts. In fact, she never understood why her father had massacred entire families because of a simple offense.
Her father had always been temperamental. Even if he didn't show it all the time, at some point he would explode and destroy something - or someone.
Theo always hid her in his room, protecting her from her father's outbursts. Well, Thaddeus didn't love his children or his wife - there was no doubt about that. The marriage had been arranged to unite two elite families.
Lenore had never known what a home was. Not in the sense of security and coziness that some children dream of. The Vandernacht mansion was too big, too cold, full of shadows that whispered stories of blood and power. She liked the library and the training yard, but never the main hall. She had heard the servants say that, in the past, Thaddeus gathered the skulls of his enemies there as trophies. Now, the room seemed too empty, as if it were waiting for new pieces to fill its pedestals.
That night, Lenore woke up to a strange sound.
A metallic clink, as if something were scratching the stone walls.
She wasn't the type to curl up in bed waiting for help. Theo always said she was too fearless for someone so young. So Lenore pushed the covers aside, kicked off her shoes and slipped out of the room.
The corridor was plunged into darkness, except for the glow of the enchanted lanterns. Shadows danced on the walls as she advanced, her feet light on the embroidered carpet. The sound came from the forbidden wing - a part of the mansion where not even the servants dared to enter without a direct order from Thaddeus.
Lenore hesitated, as if her body was giving her a warning of danger before she continued.
If her father found out she was there, it wouldn't be just an ordinary scolding or punishment. But something about it felt... wrong. It wasn't just a strange sound, it was a presence. Something pulsed in the air, a distant, slow, deep beat.
She touched the door, feeling a shiver run up her arm. Even the wood seemed heavy, dark and dangerous. But Lenore couldn't just retreat now. She was already there. So she took a deep breath and pushed the door open slowly.
The darkness inside wasn't natural. It was dense, alive.
And in the center of the room, something was waiting for her. Something that recognized her.
And it was smiling.
The thing in the center of the room had no definite shape. It was a tangle of shadows and echoes, pulsing in irregular rhythms, as if it were trapped between this world and something much worse. Its outline oscillated, sometimes elongated and slender, sometimes grotesque and misshapen. But Lenore couldn't look away.
She felt it.
She felt that it was looking at her too.
Then the voice came.
Low. Raw. Something that wasn't whispered through the air, but imprinted inside her own skull, reverberating in her mind like a funeral bell.
"You've finally come, child."
Lenore felt a shiver run down her spine. The skull she wore as a mask warmed against her skin, as if reacting to the thing's presence.
"So young. So... promising."
"Who are you?" Her voice came out firm, but something in it wavered.
The shadow contracted and expanded. Something like an arm stretched out for an instant before dissolving into the dark again.
"Your father never told you about me, did he?"
Those words seemed to lick her skin like cold breath.
Lenore frowned. Her father had too many secrets. But this one... this one seemed big.
"Why should I care?"
This time, the laughter came. A broken, empty laugh, as if something was trying to remember how to imitate a human sound.
"Because I care about you, child."
She felt her fingers tingle.
"The blood of the Vandernacht is strong, but rare is that worthy of true power."
The room grew smaller. Not physically, but Lenore felt the shadows closing in around her, suffocating, waiting for something.
"Your father failed."
Those words held her in place.
"He clung to brutality, to blind force. He thought that power meant crushing. But you... you can still be shaped."
Lenore didn't answer. Her mind was spinning. Whatever was there didn't just know her family - it knew her essence.
The shadow leaned forward slightly.
"Come, child. Learn. And I will give you a power your father never dared touch."
Something inside her stirred. It wasn't fear.
It was curiosity.
Dangerous. Tempting.
And maybe, just maybe, inevitable.