The day of the family ball had arrived—a grand gathering held within the secret halls of the Draculus estate.
The Draculus bloodline was vast and fractured. A man of ten wives and countless children, Grand Duke Draculus kept his lineage scattered, each branch tasked with handling his darker dealings: kidnapping werewolves and humans, trafficking blood, and violating long-standing accords between vampires, humans, and lycans—treaties that had held for centuries.
Piper stepped into the grand ballroom, its gothic chandeliers casting long shadows over the polished obsidian floor. The moment she entered, she felt the weight of dozens of eyes.
Some of her half-siblings glared at her with thinly veiled disgust, their voices hissing beneath the haunting waltz that played.
"Who let the half-cast in?"
Arica muttered to a sibling beside her, eyes locked on Piper as she made her way to her designated seat.
"No idea… but we need to do something before she joins Father's main trio," another whispered, eyes narrowing with envy.
"Her being around Father lately—it's starting to gnaw at me," a third added, arms crossed tightly.
"Still, Father would never acknowledge a half-blood without a familiar," Arica said with a sneer.
"Exactly. All her efforts?"
She leaned back with a cold laugh.
"Going to waste."
"The Arcan siblings… all they ever do is gossip about anyone who doesn't share their mother,"
she thought, hiding her mouth behind her ornate hand fan as her eyes scanned the room.
She noted several unfamiliar faces—relatives she had never seen before.
"Not that I care. I'm not here to bond with any of them."
"Oh, my dear Piper! Looking absolutely stunning as always,"
Merlot, her father's third wife, as she approached with a rehearsed smile.
"Courtesy of my beloved father's striking genes,"
Piper replied smoothly, offering a polite bow.
"Now she'll say, 'Why don't you join me for my family's ball next week?'"
Piper predicted silently, her smile never wavering.
Sure enough, Merlot followed up with,
"Wouldn't you consider joining me for our family's ball next week?"
"I'll have to decline,"
Piper said with grace,
"I have preparations to make for the upcoming Crown Princess selection."
She curtsied lightly, then turned away, her smile thinning as a darker thought crossed her mind.
"Besides, that party isn't a party—it's a cult masquerading as celebration. Which makes sense… her family agreed to marry her off to Draculus, after all."
The memory flashed uninvited into her mind: the blood of a werewolf and a human spilled across a ceremonial altar, their corpses displayed for all to see—as guests drank in twisted honor.
"Well, that's a shame, Piper… but I wish you the best of luck, dear,"
Merlot said cheerfully.
Piper smiled politely, though her thoughts were far colder.
"The fact that I tasted that blood back then still disgusts the very core of me."
"Then again… I have no choice but to blend in."
Just then, one of Merlot's personal servants approached and whispered something discreetly into her ear.
"Oh my,"
Merlot gasped, fanning herself with exaggerated modesty as a blush crept onto her cheeks.
"I didn't know your father chose me to escort him into the ball tonight."
"Oh, I see,"
Piper replied sweetly.
"I always knew you were Father's favorite. Please… take good care of him for me."
"Of course!"
Merlot beamed with that same strange smile before hurrying off in a flurry of excitement.
Piper's eyes drifted across the ballroom and easily caught the simmering stares of the other wives—jealous, bitter.
"And of course," Piper thought,
"Merlot did that on purpose… just to get under her co-wives' skin."
Just then, Piper heard a commotion near the ballroom entrance.
"Era—better tell your damn daughter to stay out of my path before I feed her to Father's stinking dogs!"
Risin shouted, storming through the doors with dramatic flair.
He paused for a second, frowning to himself.
"Then again… why should I even have to tell you that?"
He snapped, seemingly contradicting himself as he threw a scowl in Era's direction.
"Another clown desperate for attention,"
Piper thought with disdain, barely glancing at him as she sipped from her glass of blood.
"Anyway… let's get this trash ball over with."
She lifted her fan with practiced elegance, watching the subtle divide unfold around the room—each cluster of siblings remaining loyally grouped by their mothers.
The division was as deep as the bloodlines.
"Must be lonely, isn't it?"
Janet, daughter of Era, sneered as she approached Piper.
"What choice does a loner like her even have?"
Mane added beside her sister, smirking.
"She probably hates blood—just look at her."
Just then, someone entered the ballroom with a sharp grin stretched across his face.
"Mind repeating that, you bunch of useless pieces?"
Lucas barked, his voice cutting through the noise as his fangs glinted dangerously. His eyes locked onto Janet and Mane.
"Oh, great. Another loner,"
Janet scoffed, unfazed.
"Bats of the same feather flock together,"
Mane added mockingly, flashing Piper a cruel smile.
"Well… in her case, she has none."
Laughter rippled through some of the siblings in the room—cruel and shallow. Others remained cold and distant, either amused or indifferent. A few quietly made their exit, uninterested in the unfolding drama.
Suddenly, Janet and Mane froze.
They hadn't even seen him move.
Lucas was already in front of them, a blur of motion—known for his lightning speed, and even more for his lack of restraint. His hand was mid-swing, fingers curled like claws, ready to grab them both.
"Enough, Lucas,"
Piper said calmly, her voice low but commanding.
Lucas froze the moment he heard Piper's command.
"But Pi," he said, his voice teasing yet dark, "why don't you let me serve you their blood? A little refresher… a reminder to the rest of them."
Piper let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at the two still at her feet.
"Their blood would taste just like their existence—worthless," she said smoothly.
"Just like their never-ending chase for Father's attention… which, of course, he never gives."
She folded her fan with grace, strolling back toward her seat. A wicked smirk danced on her lips.
"How distasteful. How disgraceful."
She turned, the corner of her mouth curling higher.
"Still, let them be. At least they can contribute somehow… even if it's as reminders of what failure looks like in Father's eyes."
Janet growled, fists clenched, Mane trembling beside her. The nerve—a half-cast speaking that way to full-blooded vampires? It made their blood boil.
But suddenly, the air shifted.
A crushing wave of bloodlust swept over them.
Their eyes darted to Lucas, whose expression had turned completely feral.
"Forget her command," he growled, voice low and lethal.
"Take one step closer to her—and you're both dead!."