Chapter 2: The Ball
The guard led him through the halls, past gilded portraits and opulent tapestries that decorated the walls, until they reached the large double doors leading back into the ballroom. The music was louder now, more vibrant, a contrast to the stillness of the balcony. He could hear the soft murmur of laughter, the clink of glasses, the rustle of rich fabrics. The grand hall was alive with movement, but for Asher, it felt suffocating. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for some sign of the woman.
"Are you well, Sir Asher?" the guard asked again, glancing over his shoulder at him as they approached the ballroom's entrance.
Asher paused, taking a deep breath before giving a curt nod. "Yes, I'm fine." The words felt like a lie, but he wasn't about to explain himself to a stranger. Not when his mind was so clouded, so confused.
The guard pushed open the heavy doors, and the sounds of the ball washed over him like a wave. Music swirled in the air, and the glittering chandeliers cast their warm glow over the ballroom floor, but the brightness felt hollow. Every step he took into the room felt heavier, as if the weight of the night was pressing down on him from all sides. The laughter and chatter of the vampires in attendance only made him feel more isolated, more apart from everything.
He stepped further into the crowd, his eyes darting over the sea of faces. The elegant vampires, their movements fluid and effortless, seemed like figures out of a dream. His gaze lingered on a few familiar faces—members of the Evergland clan, dressed in finery and acting as if nothing was amiss—but none of them seemed to notice him. They were caught in their own world, far removed from his discomfort.
Asher's mind kept drifting back to the woman—the way she had pulled him in, the way she had made him feel something he couldn't explain. He could still see the flash of her red eyes, could still feel her presence lingering on the edge of his senses.
Had she really disappeared? Or had she slipped into the crowd unnoticed?
A sudden shiver ran through him, and he clenched his fists at his sides. He couldn't trust anyone here—not even the air around him. Not after what had just happened.
And as the doors closed behind him with a soft thud, Asher realized something with a sickening certainty: He wasn't going to get any answers tonight. Not until it was too late.
"Asher, there you are!" His mother's voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. "I can't believe you just left after speaking to him like that. What were you thinking?" Her words were sharp, a mix of frustration and concern.
He had almost forgotten about the confrontation with Mr. Evergland, but the memory came rushing back now.
"You know I was right, Mother," Asher replied, his voice steady, though tinged with exhaustion. "I didn't say anything wrong."
His mother pinched the bridge of her nose, her face tightening with stress. After a long, heavy pause, she looked up at him. Her gaze softened, but her eyes still held the weight of everything they were facing.
"Listen... I know how you feel," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she fought to maintain composure. "I hate this too... but... what else can we do? What other choice do we have?" The vulnerability in her voice was unmistakable. Asher could see the strain in her eyes, and it hurt to see her so broken. She was trying so hard to hold herself together, not wanting to completely unravel in front of him—especially not in a room full of vampires.
Asher's heart tightened at the sight.
His sister, who looked so much like their mother, spoke up next, her voice softer but still resolute. "She's right, Asher. This is the only way. I know you're worried about me, but I'll be fine. Everything will get better after this... They're treating us better now, at least. For now." Her words trailed off, but the hollow tone in her voice spoke volumes.
His little brother placed a hand on Asher's shoulder, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He could barely meet Asher's gaze, but his grip on his brother was tight, as if seeking comfort, though it was clear he was fighting to keep it together.
Asher looked at them all—his family, the people he loved most in the world—and a wave of anger and helplessness surged through him. They had all given up. But not him. He refused to. Not now. Not ever.
He clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. "No," he said, his voice low but firm. "I'm not giving up. Not while there's still a chance."
Before another word could leave anyone's mouth, a loud, piercing ring echoed throughout the room, silencing the murmurs and voices of the gathered crowd.
"I thank you all for joining us for the reuniting of the Evergland clan and the Kapella clan!" The king's voice boomed, projecting effortlessly across the vast room. "The judge has made a rare appearance today to assist in our endeavors."
The mention of the judge sent a wave of excited murmurs through the crowd. A burst of cheers erupted, and Asher's eyes darted around in confusion.
"Who's the judge?" he whispered to his mother, who leaned in to explain, her tone low.
"The judge is someone with almost as much power as the king," she replied quietly, her eyes scanning the room. "They handle matters the king doesn't want to deal with—crimes, disputes, that sort of thing. They're meant to be the 'neutral' force here, not tied to any clan. You'd know all this if you hadn't stormed out earlier."
Asher ignored the last part of her sentence, his attention shifting back to Mr. Evergland, who had started speaking again.
"Under a formal contract, both clans have agreed to offer up one of their highest-ranking members to join together in eternal bond, marking the beginning of our peace... and tonight, we will bind them together." Mr. Evergland's voice rang out triumphantly, and a ripple of cheers followed, but Asher's heart sank. It's happening tonight?! His thoughts whirled in panic. He thought he had more time to stop it. His fists clenched, and frustration boiled inside him.
Then, something caught his eye—a flash of movement in the corner of the room. A ghostly figure, draped in black lace, moved through the crowd with eerie grace. Time seemed to slow. He couldn't tear his eyes away. That figure... he knew her. His breath caught in his throat. So she does exist... His heart hammered as the realization hit him.
The room erupted into cheers once more, their voices merging into a loud, indistinguishable roar, but all Asher could hear was the pounding of his own pulse.
"Thank you for joining us today, Judge!"
With those words, time snapped back into place, and the noise of the crowd flooded back into his ears, a cacophony that made his head throb. He stumbled back, as if the world around him was spinning. Ha... so not only is she a vampire, but she's on par with royalty... The thought sickened him. He felt his stomach twist. The worst.
His expression darkened, twisting into one of bitter hatred and disgust—disgust at himself for having touched her earlier, for having been anywhere near her. His skin crawled at the memory, and he fought to steady his breath.
"Now, let us bring forward the two who will be bound together!" Mr. Evergland's voice rang out, and his eyes flicked toward Asher and his sister. "Please, join us at the front."
Asher's heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. He turned his gaze toward his sister, desperate to make eye contact, to say something—anything—to stop her. But she didn't meet his eyes.
With a deep, steadying breath, his sister stepped forward, her face a mask of resolve. She moved toward the front without hesitation, as if she had already accepted what was happening, as if this was inevitable. She ignored the desperate look in Asher's eyes, the silent plea he couldn't voice.
A cold knot twisted in Asher's stomach. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back, but he was rooted to the spot, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His fists tightened, but there was no way to stop her now. She was walking willingly into the lion's den. And he—he was helpless to change it.
He turned away from her, his gaze shifting across the ballroom in a desperate search for anything—anyone—who might give him a way out of this. But the glittering eyes of the guests, all vampires, were too many, too cold. The dance of politeness and power played out around him, but there was nothing for him here.
And then, in the periphery of his vision, he saw it. Him.
Mr. Evergland. The patriarch of the Evergland clan, standing tall and regal at the head of the room. He watched the proceedings with an almost casual air, as if he were observing an animal being led to slaughter. His sharp, crimson eyes glinted in the low light, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his gaze flickered toward Asher. The moment their eyes met, a strange, unsettling sensation crawled up Asher's spine. It was as if the vampire knew exactly what he was thinking, what he feared.
"You're not going to do anything, are you, Asher?" Mr. Evergland's voice seemed to echo in his head, even though he hadn't spoken aloud. The challenge was there, an unspoken dare, and yet, Asher could do nothing but watch his sister continue forward.
His breath caught as his sister reached the front of the room, where Evergland himself awaited, a grand gesture of his hand inviting her closer. She moved with a grace that he had never seen in her before, the kind of calm acceptance that made everything feel... irreversible.
The music shifted. The orchestra began to play, their instruments a low hum beneath the rising tension. Asher felt his world narrowing as his sister finally reached the front of the room.
There, standing next to the Evergland patriarch, was Prince Lazarus Evergland—tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing red eyes that shimmered in the light. His raven-black hair was neatly combed back, and his aristocratic features were set in an expression of quiet anticipation, as if this moment were simply a formality to him.
Asher's jaw clenched as he watched the prince's gaze slide over his sister. It was a look of ownership, of control. It made Asher's blood boil, and something inside him twisted painfully.
No. No. This couldn't be happening. Not like this. He wasn't going to let it.
But just as he prepared to take a step forward, to rush toward them, something stopped him.
A familiar, smooth voice reached his ear.
"Shall we?" The voice was quiet, but it carried a weight, a presence that could not be ignored.
Asher turned sharply, his body stiffening at the sight of the woman from the balcony earlier—the one who had danced with him. She stood behind him now, her eyes hidden behind the same mask, the dark horns jutting out from the crown of her head, casting sharp shadows on her delicate features.
Her presence was almost otherworldly, and her voice, that melody from earlier, echoed in his mind.
"Are you not going to watch your sister's binding ceremony?" she asked softly, tilting her head in a gesture that was more predatory than curious. "Or perhaps you'd rather leave this place altogether? You know, you could run. You're a very fast runner, aren't you, Asher?"
He felt his muscles tense at the sound of his name. He turned sharply to face her, fury flickering in his chest, but it wasn't just anger that surged through him—it was something darker, something more primal. There was something about her that made him want to run—not away, but toward her.
"What do you want from me?" Asher spat, his voice low and dangerous, his fists clenched at his sides.
She smiled, a predatory, knowing smile that sent another shiver crawling up his spine.
"From you? Nothing, my dear Asher. I am only here to offer you... an option." She stepped closer, her black lace gown trailing over the polished floor as she moved, her presence enveloping him in a strange, suffocating sense of something both sweet and dangerous.
Asher backed up a step, his mind racing. He didn't trust her, didn't know what game she was playing, but he knew one thing: she wasn't here just to chat. She was offering something—an opportunity. And somehow, he knew it was one he might not be able to refuse.
"What option?" His voice was tight, suspicious.
The woman chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a whisper of wind through leaves—both calming and unsettling.
"You see, Asher... You've been standing in the shadow of your family's fate for far too long. Watching them accept the inevitable, watching your sister take the first step in a life that could forever change your family's destiny." Her tone shifted, becoming more like a caress than a statement. "But you, you don't have to follow. You don't have to stand here and watch them give themselves over to the vampires."
Asher's pulse quickened. "What are you saying?"
She took another step forward, so close now that he could feel the coldness of her presence, smell the faint fragrance of blood that seemed to cling to her. "I'm offering you an escape, Asher. A way out. But you must make the decision yourself. And you must act quickly."
His breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest. His sister was standing right there, poised to give herself to the prince, to seal the fate he had fought so hard to avoid. But now, this woman was offering him a way to leave, a chance to change the course of everything.
But could he trust her? Could he risk it? He didn't know.
The weight of the moment pressed down on him harder than before. His sister's fate was sealed before him, but the woman's words... they were a spark in the dark. Could he really take that chance?
And what was it that made him want to believe her? What was it about her smile that made his mind swirl with both fear and longing?
He didn't know. But he had to decide.
"Well, Asher?" The woman's voice was almost a whisper now. "What will you choose?"
______________________________________
The ceremony was nearing its climax, the air thick with anticipation. Asher's sister stood motionless at the altar beside the vampire prince, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of fabric and the distant hum of the eerie, mournful music playing from the ballroom. Everyone was waiting, watching, breath held in expectation.
Asher's eyes flicked to his sister, then to the prince, and finally to the woman in black. The judge. The one who had thrown that dangerous, irresistible offer in his face. She was still standing behind the altar, her mask gleaming under the low candlelight. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something in her gaze that stilled his breath, as if she could see through every mask, every lie.
Asher stood frozen at the back of the room, his mind racing. He had moments—precious moments—to act. The weight of the decision crushed him, but he had already made up his mind. He would stop this ceremony, not because he was afraid, but because he had a plan. A plan that would give him a sliver of control in a situation where he had none.
He would manipulate the judge.
And if things worked out in his favor, he would buy enough time to disrupt the entire wedding, forcing the vampires to reconsider their twisted scheme.
But there was something else, too. A deep, burning hatred for what they were doing, for everything they had taken from him, from his family. He could feel the rage building, but he had learned long ago how to hide it behind a mask of calculation.
He stepped forward slowly, eyes fixed on the judge. The moment he moved, the room seemed to freeze, every head turning to watch him. The prince's expression darkened, and his hand tightened around the goblet. But Asher's eyes never wavered from her.
"Wait!" Asher's voice rang out through the room, shaking with an undercurrent of barely-contained fury, but also calm, measured defiance. The guests gasped in unison, some of them hissing, but all of them silenced under the weight of Asher's challenge.
Mr. Evergland turned slowly, his fangs flashing as he regarded Asher with an icy gaze. "What is this?" he asked, his voice low, a warning embedded within every word. But Asher ignored him, his eyes now fully on the judge, who had turned to face him with an unreadable expression.
"I won't allow this," Asher said, his voice dripping with calculated authority. "I won't stand by while my sister is bound to a creature like him." He motioned toward the prince with a dismissive gesture. "This isn't what I want for my family."
His words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with emotion, but Asher wasn't done. He stepped forward again, his gaze narrowing as he focused entirely on the masked woman. He could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes—surprise, but not the disgust he might've expected. No, this was something else.
He took a deep breath, then spoke the words he had been planning, words that he had never intended to be anything but a means to an end.
"I cannot let my sister marry him. I can't stand to watch this happen, but...I'll offer something else." He paused, his eyes cold and sharp. "I offer myself."
The room went dead silent. His sister's shocked gaze met his for the first time, her mouth slightly parted in disbelief, while the prince's posture shifted to something predatory.
"I'll do whatever it takes to stop this," Asher continued, voice steady, but his eyes burning with contempt. "I'll play your game, woman." He spoke directly to her, his gaze full of loathing, though his words were soaked with syrupy sweetness. "I'll give you everything you want, if you'll just take me and stop this farce. Take me, as your... choice. You've been the one pulling the strings anyway, haven't you?"
The judge blinked, clearly taken aback. Her lips parted in surprise, but she quickly masked her expression again, though her eyes—those sharp, fiery red eyes—narrowed slightly as they studied him, as though she were trying to figure him out.
Her gaze flicked over Asher, studying him with a quiet intensity. She didn't speak immediately, and for a moment, the tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. The entire room was waiting on her response.
"I see," she said finally, her voice soft, almost intrigued. Her head tilted slightly, as if considering something very carefully. Then, in a voice that made his skin prickle, she added, "So, you wish to offer yourself as a... sacrifice? As a replacement? As a way to end this wedding?"
Asher's heart thudded in his chest. He wasn't about to let any of them see how much this actually bothered him. He would stand strong. He would play this game.
"Yes," he replied, his voice as cold as his stare. "Take me. End this. And I'll make sure you get everything you want. I'll give you everything. But don't make a fool out of my sister. Don't make a fool out of me."
The judge studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, a small, dangerous smile curled at the edge of her lips.
"I must admit," she said, taking a step closer to Asher, her voice now low and dangerous. "I'm intrigued. You're much more than I expected. You think this will work, don't you?"
"I know it will," Asher said, though it was only half a lie. His heart raced with the knowledge that this was his one shot at controlling the outcome. He had to believe it would work.
The judge's eyes glinted with an unreadable emotion. She took another step closer, until she was inches away from him. Asher's pulse hammered in his ears, but he didn't flinch. He didn't look away.
"So, you're sure you wish to stop this wedding," she whispered, her voice low and velvety, full of menace. "Because, if you do... then you will have to be prepared for the consequences. All of them."
Asher took in a steadying breath, then nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Yes. I'll do whatever it takes. I'm sure."
Her smile widened slightly, and in that moment, Asher knew that he had just altered the course of the evening—perhaps the course of his life.
"Very well," the judge murmured, her voice laced with intrigue. "Then let us see if you are truly prepared for what comes next."
Without another word, she turned toward Mr. Evergland, her gesture sharp and commanding. The ceremony would not end as planned.
The vampires were not going to get what they wanted tonight.
Not if Asher had anything to say about it.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone