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“The Valentine line ends tonight,” Lord Nightshade’s voice purred like silk over steel. “Nothing personal, old friend. Just politics.”

“Dominic, please.” Father stepped in front of my mother, his power rising like a storm. “We were blood-sworn brothers once.”

“Which makes this all the more poetic.” Lord Carmille laughed like breaking crystal. “The last of the Valentines, destroyed by family.”

My father’s scream pierced the air as Viktor’s blade found my mother’s heart. Blood splattered across marble floors, across my face, hot and terrible. My father’s power exploded outward, but Lord Carmille was faster, his silver hair writhing like living weapons.

“Run!” My father’s last word, his last gift, as Lord Nightshade’s hand punched through his chest.

Blood. So much blood. The taste of tears and ash. The Nightshade Clan’s laughter echoing through halls that had once held only love.

“Luca!”

New voices cut through the nightmare—familiar, beloved voices calling me home.

“Come back to us, little bat!”

“Prince, wake up!”

“Luca, please…”

Three different scents wrapped around me like shields. The darkness shifted, parting like silk curtains in a phantom breeze. I floated in a realm between realities, where possibilities drifted like stardust and power hummed in the very air. And there, suspended in this in-between space, hung an orb of pure light.

It pulsed in perfect synchronization with my heart, each beat sending ripples of warmth through the ethereal void. Something deep inside me responded to its call, an ancient recognition that transcended conscious thought. My spirit—or whatever I was in this strange place—drifted toward it, drawn by instincts older than memory.

The orb existed in impossible dimensions, both vast as the night sky and small enough to cradle. As I drew closer, other lights flickered at the edges of perception—twelve more orbs,arranged in an incomplete circle. They pulsed with potential, with promise, waiting for something… or someone.

“Little bat…”Zane’s voice echoed through the void, making the orb’s light dance.

My hand reached out, trembling in the strange not-air. The moment my fingers touched the crystalline surface, power exploded through me like shattered starlight. Visions cascaded through my mind—ancient magics stirring from millennium-long slumber, destiny weaving patterns too complex to comprehend, power that sang through my very essence.

The orb’s light intensified, matching the wild rhythm of my heart. Through its depths, I glimpsed others yet to awaken, twelve more lights pulsing with dormant power. Each pulse showed me more, understanding just beyond my grasp.

“Prince, come back to us…”Ryker’s voice sent shivers through the ethereal plane.

The light shifted, revealing three figures wreathed in power—midnight and lightning and sunshine. The brothers. But not as I knew them. Something more, something that made my soul resonate like a struck bell. The orb thrummed with certainty, with recognition.

“Luca, please wake up…”Archer’s warmth called through the void.

They are waiting, the orb’s light seemed to whisper without words.The circle begins. The first awakens.

Their scents grew stronger, more insistent. The orb’s radiance began to fade, but I could feel its echo inside me—a core of ancient power, waiting to fully awaken. All I had to do was follow their voices home…

The hospital room materialized around me slowly, like watercolors bleeding onto canvas. Three worried faces came into focus—Zane, Ryker, and Archer, all leaning close. Their presence wrapped around me like a blanket woven from starlight andstorm clouds, like finally surfacing after being lost in deep waters.

“There’s our prince,” Archer whispered, his usual sunshine smile trembling at the edges. His hand clutched mine like he was afraid I’d drift away again.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw, scraped by screams I couldn’t remember. Zane’s hand slipped behind my neck, supporting me as Ryker held a crystal goblet to my lips. The liquid inside was darker than normal blood, thick with ancient power. It tasted like midnight storms and old magic, nothing like my usual lavender-strawed medical bags.

“What happened?” My voice emerged as barely a whisper. “Why am I…?”

“You had a fever,” Ryker said carefully, exchanging loaded glances with his brothers. “A rather unusual one.”

The private hospital suite was crowded with familiar faces—Aunt Senna crying quietly in Uncle Owen’s protective embrace, Sylvie and Hunter clutching each other’s hands, Great Uncle Johnathan watching me with an intensity that made the air feel heavy with unspoken questions.

“I was so scared,” I whispered, and felt all three brothers tense around me. “I thought… I was back in my old world. Everything was gray and wrong and…” A shudder ran through me, making the medical equipment chirp in alarm. “I saw them. My parents—the Valentines. And the Nightshades, when they…”

I couldn’t continue, the memory of blood and betrayal stealing my voice. Uncle Owen released Aunt Senna gently before moving from his protective stance by the door. His presence alone spoke volumes—he should have been at the International Security Summit for another week. The fact that the head of Whitlock security had abandoned such a crucial conference could only mean one thing: my condition was far more serious than anyone was letting on.