The storm had not stopped for three nights.

Thunder rolled like war drums above the old city, and lightning flashed across the marble towers of the Blood Court.

Aiden stood at the balcony of the chamber he now shared with Lucien. The air smelled of rain and smoke. Below, the world was asleep but in his veins, something ancient was waking.

Lucien appeared behind him, his presence sharp and magnetic. “You haven’t slept,” he said quietly.

“I can’t,” Aiden replied. “Every time I close my eyes, I hear the song again. The one from the trial.”

Lucien stepped closer, his voice lower. “The Song of the Firstborn?”

Aiden nodded. “It’s not just music. It feels like someone’s calling my name through it.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “Then it’s already begun.”

That night, Aiden dreamt though dreams for vampires are more like hauntings.

He found himself standing in a cathedral of shadows, pillars carved from bone, candles burning blue. In the center, a throne stood empty, carved from obsidian and bloodstone.

And then, a voice.

Low. Timeless.

“You carry my song.”

Aiden turned and saw a figure rising from the shadows.

Tall. Clad in red silk. Eyes like molten gold.

“Who are you?” Aiden whispered.

The figure smiled faintly. “I am the beginning… and the hunger that made you. They called me the Firstborn.”

Aiden’s breath caught. “You’re real?”

The ancient being stepped closer, his voice soft as silk and sharp as fangs. “As real as the blood that sings in you. You are my echo, my heir, my rebirth.”

Aiden stepped back. “No I’m not your weapon.”

The Firstborn’s smile widened. “You can’t fight what you are. Sing for me, my child, and the world will bow once more.”

Aiden screamed and woke up gasping, drenched in cold sweat that shouldn’t exist.

Lucien rushed to him instantly. “What happened?”

Aiden’s eyes glowed faintly gold, not red. “He spoke to me. The Firstborn. He wants me to finish the song.”

By dawn, word had reached the Court. Queen Lira summoned them both immediately.

Her throne room was darker than usual, torches burning with black flame. She leaned forward as they entered. “So it’s true. The Firstborn calls to you.”

Aiden stayed silent, his mind spinning.

Lucien stepped in front of him protectively. “You will not use him, Lira.”

Lira’s smile was calm and deadly. “Use him? No. I will worship him. The prophecy said that when the mortal’s song awakens, the Old Blood will rise, and the Crown will fall. Tell me, Lucien are you ready to kneel again?”

Lucien’s eyes flashed. “I’ll burn your throne before I kneel.”

Lira chuckled softly. “Then you’ll burn with him.”

That night, Aiden and Lucien fled the Court.

Through the underground tunnels, through ruins that hadn’t seen moonlight in centuries. Lucien led him with one hand, their steps echoing.

“We can’t stay here,” Lucien said. “The Court will hunt you now. Lira will twist your power for herself.”

Aiden’s grip tightened. “And you? What will you do with it?”

Lucien stopped, turning to face him. “I’ll protect you. Even if it means destroying everything else.”

Aiden stared at him, torn between fear and love. “You’d destroy the world for me?”

Lucien’s fangs flashed in the dark. “I already did once. What’s one more time?”

They reached an old cathedral on the outskirts of the city abandoned, but humming with power.

Inside, Aiden walked toward the altar. Symbols carved centuries ago glowed faintly at his touch.

“It’s here,” he whispered. “This is where the song began.”

Lucien’s voice was sharp. “Don’t play it.”

But Aiden stepped closer, his voice trembling as he began to hum.

Each note shimmered through the air, turning into crimson light.

The walls shook. The floor cracked.

Lucien rushed forward, but it was too late.

The song burst forth from Aiden’s lips, pure and terrible.

It wasn’t music it was creation itself.

And from beneath the cathedral, something answered.

The earth split open.

A shadow rose, vast and blinding, wings unfolding wider than the night sky. The Firstborn emerged with eyes glowing gold, voice echoing like thunder.

“My son. My song.”

Aiden fell to his knees, shaking. “I didn’t mean to ”

Lucien grabbed him, shouting against the roaring wind. “Aiden, stop! You have to stop!”

But the Firstborn only smiled, towering above them both.

“You cannot stop destiny. You are destiny.”

He raised a hand and the mark of the prophecy flared on Aiden’s chest, glowing red and gold.

Lucien’s voice broke. “Don’t take him!”

The Firstborn’s gaze fell on Lucien. “You love him. That’s why he’ll destroy you.”

And with that, the world exploded in light.

When Aiden woke, he was alone.

The cathedral was in ruins. The air was heavy with ash. He could feel Lucien far away, alive, but bound.

In the distance, whispers carried on the wind:

The Crimson Crown has risen.

The Firstborn walks again.

Aiden stood slowly, the mark on his chest still glowing faintly. He looked toward the horizon, where the dawn burned blood-red.

His voice was barely a whisper. “This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.”