Fated To Four

Chapter 1: Shadows in the Veil

The night air was thick with the scent of blood.

Selene moved swiftly, her senses sharp as the shadows of the moonless night clung to her like a second skin. The forest was quiet, unnaturally so. No crickets, no wind—just the pounding of her heart and the soft, deadly sound of her boots against the forest floor. The dagger in her hand gleamed, its edge sharp enough to cut through bone. She always preferred to work with silver. In the supernatural world, it was the great equalizer.

She knelt behind a tree, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of her target. A rogue vampire, tall and pale, with the gaunt look of the recently turned. He was still new to the dark side, still hungry. His movements were sloppy, desperate. He hadn’t yet learned control, hadn’t yet mastered the grace that came with time. His eyes gleamed with hunger as he stalked a young human woman who was oblivious to the predator following her due to the rather large headsets she had on.

Perfect.

She darted forward, her body a blur of motion as she closed the distance. The vampire barely had time to register her presence before her blade plunged into his chest, directly into his heart. His eyes went wide, a strangled cry escaping his lips before he turned to ash in her grasp. The woman, still unaware of the danger she had been in, continued walking, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Selene straightened, wiping her blade on her sleeve. Another successful hunt.

She glanced at her watch—midnight. She was late.

The Veilborn headquarters, her home and the center of the order she had dedicated her life to, wasn’t far. But as she turned to head back, a strange sensation washed over her. A coldness, like ice sliding down her spine. Her instincts flared, every nerve in her body on edge.

Something was wrong.

She took off running, her boots pounding against the dirt as she raced through the trees. Her breath came in sharp bursts, her pulse quickening. She had lived her life by the motto that danger was always near, but this… this felt different. It felt personal.

As she approached the edge of the forest, the sprawling estate of the Veilborn came into view. It was a grand building, ancient and fortified, designed to withstand the assaults of the supernatural world. But now, the estate was in ruins. The towering stone walls were crumbling, flames licked the sky, and smoke billowed into the night, thick and acrid. Bodies were spread across the ground—Veilborn soldiers, people she had trained with, fought beside, and trusted with her life.

All dead.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped over the bodies, her heart heavy. The metallic stench of blood filled the air, mingling with the scent of burning wood and ash. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the destruction. The Veilborn were a secretive, powerful organization, sworn to protect the human realm from supernatural threats. They were the last line of defense. How could this have happened?

"Selene..."

The voice was faint, but she heard it. Her heart twisted painfully as she recognized the rasping voice of her mentor, Garrick. She sprinted across the debris-strewn courtyard, her gaze locking onto his crumpled form near the entrance. His body was bloodied, his breathing shallow.

"Hold on," she whispered, kneeling beside him and cradling his head. "I'm here. You’ll be okay."

Garrick’s eyes fluttered open, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. His lips trembled as he tried to speak. "You… you have to run. They're coming… for you."

"Who did this?" Selene demanded, her voice shaking with equal parts fear and rage. "Tell me, Garrick. Who attacked us?"

His hand reached for hers, gripping it weakly. "It’s… it’s your blood. They know… they know what you are."

Her heart skipped a beat, confusion clouding her mind. "What are you talking about?"

His grip tightened. "Your mother... she wasn't... You… you're the key, Selene. The prophecy says—"

Before he could finish, his body convulsed, his eyes glazing over. He was gone.

Selene's world shattered in that moment. The mentor who had raised her, trained her, and stood by her side was dead, and with him, the last hope of understanding what had happened. She clenched her fists, anger boiling in her veins. The organization she had sworn her life to was gone, and her entire world had been torn apart.

But why? What was the prophecy Garrick had spoken of? What did her blood have to do with the attack? The questions burned in her mind, but there was no time to grieve or search for answers. Not now.

A sudden shift in the air pulled her from her thoughts. Her hand flew to her dagger as she turned, ready to face whoever—or whatever—was approaching.

Out of the smoke and shadows, a figure emerged. Tall, with raven-black hair and eyes like shards of ice. His presence was commanding, his gaze intense. She knew who he was before he even spoke.

"Lucian Draven," Selene hissed, her grip tightening on her weapon. The vampire prince, royalty among the undead. His arrival only deepened the mystery. "What are you doing here?"

Lucian’s eyes swept over the destruction, his expression unreadable. "It seems I arrived too late." His voice was smooth, cold as winter’s wind. "But you... you're still alive."

"I don’t need your help, Draven," Selene growled, stepping back. "I can handle this."

His lips curled into a faint smirk. "Handle it? You've been marked, Selene. Your enemies will come for you. They won’t stop until they have your blood, and when they do, you will wish you had taken my offer."

Selene's mind raced. What did he know? Why had Lucian, of all people, shown up in the aftermath of the massacre?

Before she could demand answers, the sound of approaching footsteps made her tense. Three more figures appeared out of the smoke,

The first was a fae warrior, his silver hair glowing in the dim light. His eyes held a storm of emotions—anger, grief, and something she couldn’t quite place.

"Rhydian Stormborn," she muttered under her breath.

The second figure was a demon, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He moved with the grace of a predator, his aura brimming with danger and allure. "Dante Raventhorn," she recognized. The shadow demon.

Finally, the third figure stepped forward, a towering man with the raw, wild energy of a predator. His eyes were golden, his muscles tense beneath his leather jacket. "Galen Wolfe," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The werewolf alpha. A man she had once fought, now standing before her as if they were friends.

"What the hell is going on?" Selene demanded, looking between them.

Lucian met her gaze, his expression serious. "War. And whether you like it or not, you're at the center of it."