I look in every direction searching for the source of the voice, but only the trees and the lonely path answer me.

The words crash into me with weight, and my shoulders shake as I break into tears.

I’ve been so selfish, such a terrible daughter and sister…

I almost condemned my siblings to my fate and my family to disgrace.

I cover my eyes with my hands, trying to hold back the tears, but they come out with force, unwilling to stop.

I don’t know how long I'll stay sitting there before Tucker appears.

“Elara!” My brother’s steps grow louder and louder. “Elara! What happened?”

The warmth of his arms surrounds me, and instinctively, my hands try to cling to him, seeking comfort.

I bury my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my hair and wet clothes.

He murmurs something I can’t make out while rocking us both gently.

“There, there, Elara… It’s okay now.”

I feel his fingers tangle in my hair as he strokes it.

His embrace is exactly what I needed—and I didn’t know it until this moment.

Small clouds of breath form in the air with each of my ragged breaths.

His hands massage my feet and ankles, trying to get my circulation back to normal and drive out the sickly color.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I shake my head, and he doesn’t push.

That’s what I like about him, the bond we have, the mutual agreement not to push each other when the questions are too painful to answer.

We spend a long while on the shores of the lake—me clinging to him, trying to absorb some warmth, and him checking to make sure the circulation in my limbs returns to normal.

“I hope you know you’re going to cause quite a stir when we get home.”

One of his arms goes around my back, the other slides under my knees, and he lifts me from the ground.

“Mom and Dad are going to lose their minds when they see you like this.”

I nod. My parents will definitely make a fuss when they see me like this.

It’s obvious I’m already in trouble for not coming home before dark, and showing up like this isn’t going to make things better.

Tucker doesn’t speak again; he carries me silently along the path until we reach the empty village streets.

The cold still lingers deep in my bones and I don’t know what else to do to warm up.

I sigh in relief when I see our house in the distance, casting an orange light through the windows.

When we reach the door, Tucker kicks it open, and the avalanche of my family’s concern begins.

“What happened?” my father asks, rising from his chair beside the fire.

“Elara!” My mother’s cry cuts through the air. “My girl! What happened? You’re soaked!”

“Bring as many blankets as you can,” Tucker orders as he carries me toward the fire.

I don’t even get to feel the relief of being near the fireplace.

I pass out on the way to it, and the last thing I’m aware of is my head falling backward with a sharp jolt.

As expected, I spent my birthday and the following days in bed with pneumonia that made the air coming out of my chest sound like a horse’s neighs. Four days later, my appearance hasn’t improved much, and I hope this will serve as an excuse so no one buys me tonight.

My thick black hair has been neatly gathered at the nape of my neck with small floral pins. My skin has a lifeless tone, and two small purple grooves rest under my eyes.

“My little girl…” says Mom through tears as she pinches my cheeks to give them some color. “I’m not ready for this moment. None of us are.”

My chest tightens with each word, I blink several times to chase away the urge to cry. My tears will only make this harder.

“Don’t worry, Mom. Maybe I’ll be lucky and no one will find me appetizing enough tonight.”

My mother’s eyes look at me without humor, red and flooded with tears.

“Whether they buy you or not, this is the last night you’ll spend under our roof.” Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she pulls me into her arms. She gently strokes my back. “Stay healthy—not for them, but for yourself, Elara. Write to us, let us know somehow that you’re still alive.”

“I’ll try,” I reply without conviction.

Most of us already know the fate that awaits once we’re bought.

Each vampire is supposed to have a certain number of “feeders” according to their rank. No more, no less, as long as they remain healthy and capable of fulfilling their duty.

They’re not allowed to hurt us, overstep, or hasten our deaths. But those are just words, laws written by their ancestors and ours to guarantee peace.

In practice, many of them overdrink, leave us dry, discard us, and quickly find a replacement, with the cooperation, of course, of corrupt Blood Auctions.

Mom leaves me alone for a few moments, which I use to try to burn into my memory every detail of what has been my bedroom for eighteen years—my place of rest and confessions.

I’m wearing the prettiest and newest dress I have in my closet.

One that squeezes my chest so tightly it’s hard to breathe.

It’s made of green velvet with golden thread embroidery, the neckline is square and reveals the curves of my breasts. I get up from the little stool in front of the vanity and grab the shawl.

I give myself one last look in the mirror and involuntarily pass my fingers along the curve of my neck, as if I already knew I’d never see it intact again. I wrap the shawl over my shoulders, hold it tightly, and leave the room.

I descend the stairs, listening to every creak of the wood, and see all the faces of my family waiting at the bottom.

“You look beautiful,” says Tucker, his eyes shining.

“Elara always looks beautiful.”

Dad takes my hand as I step down the last stair and pulls me into his chest, hugging me so tightly my bones protest.

Still, I say nothing.

I stay there for several breaths, knowing this will be the last time I’ll be in my father’s arms.

It’s painfully hard to pull away.

“Elara?” a child’s voice calls.

My little sister looks up at me from a few heads below. Her huge honey-colored eyes gaze at me, frightened, and I smile to reassure her. I hug her, cradling her face against my chest and stroking her copper curls.

I’m going to miss so much…

I won’t be there to soothe her scraped knees the next time she falls playing, there will be no more candlelit stories, and I won’t be around when she starts smiling because of some boy.

Our parents watch the scene with true anguish, and Tucker joins our embrace, wrapping his arms around us both and shielding us from the world with the breadth of his body.

I inhale the scent of home while holding back tears.

The sound of a bell breaks the silence.

The Blood Auction is open to receive us.

Each chime falls over us like a bucket of cold water.

Mom grabs Angela’s hand, and my father offers me his arm to walk.

Tucker stands to my right and opens the door, letting in a gust of freezing air.

We all seem to hold our breath for a second and then begin to walk.

The street is empty, although dozens of pairs of eyes watch us from their windows.

Every full moon is an event that everyone watches from the safety of their homes, with goosebumps and aching hearts, because every time one of us enters the Blood Auction, it reminds the others of what will one day come to their own homes.

Many other auctions are taking place tonight in hundreds of cursed villages like ours.

We walk in silence, hearing windows close and the meow of a stray cat.

“If you ask me now, I’ll take you out of here,” Tucker whispers.

“We’ll run away from the village, go into the forest, and with the money I’ve saved, we’ll cross the ocean.”

My heart skips a beat, I look around, hoping no one is close enough to have heard his boldness.

“Don’t say nonsense.” I grit my teeth. “Don’t even think of suggesting something like that again. It would be treason.”

He tries to speak, but a single look from me is enough to silence him.

He can’t be serious about this.

Going against the rules and the system is treason.

They’d kill our whole family—or rather, drain them like pigs in the village square.

The world has changed; we’re no longer the cruelest living being. Now they are.

They let us dream of a world where humans ruled everything, and crushed that fantasy with a simple wave of the hand.

“There doesn’t seem to be much of a crowd at this auction,” Mom comments from behind, worried.

Fewer people at the auction means more chances of being bought.

I swallow with difficulty, trying to dissolve the knot in my throat.

The peaked roof of what used to be a church is already visible at the end of the street.

After the vampires’ arrival, everything related to religion was burned and destroyed—except churches.

They found it ironic to use them for auctions.

As if to say: “Look, God, here’s where I buy your beloved children to treat them like animals, to feast on them and break their souls.”

What they don’t know is that their arrival sparked, for many, a deeper need to believe—to cling to a merciful being who watches over us.

The church doors are wide open, and from within, an intense orange light spills out.

We stop walking and look at each other, knowing they can’t follow me any further.

Once again, Mom begins to cry and throws herself into my arms.

“I’ll pray every night for you to be safe, healthy, and strong.”

“Mom…”

“Darling, don’t scare our daughter anymore,” says Dad, wrapping his arms around Mom as she tries to hide in him.

“She’s strong and will fulfill her role. She’ll manage to write to us and bring us words of relief, right?”

I nod.

“Sister, show them how tough the Vosss are.”

“You got it.” I smile.

“Don’t encourage your sister to do anything reckless,” Mom scolds.

“Daughter, you must be submissive—even if they promise not to hurt you beyond… well, you know their word doesn’t mean much. They could still hurt you.”

“I know, Mom,” I say, even though I’m more than willing to be reckless. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s my girl.”

I kneel down, aware that my skirts are getting stained with dirt.

I kiss Angela on the crown of her head and whisper something silly in her ear to make her laugh, then hug Tucker, and finally wrap both my arms around my parents and hold them tightly.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We love you so much, daughter.”

I give them each a loud kiss on the cheek and, clutching my skirts, I head toward the entrance of the old church.

I don’t look back—their sad faces would break me.

I quicken my steps and cross the threshold of the door.

The cold inside steals my breath for a moment.

Despite being inside a church, little remains of its original contents.

It looks nothing like the images in books.

Everything that could have had religious meaning is gone.

Where the baptismal font should be, there’s a pyramid of goblets filled with crimson liquid; the walls bear no saints, only portraits of pale faces.

The Pure, the elite among vampires, the highest authority.

The pews have been replaced by luxurious armchairs, the altar is now just another table, and a few crosses remain in place, turned upside down in mockery.

A woman with an oval face, dressed in a red velvet gown, approaches me when she sees me enter.

“Your Blood Covenant, please.”

I search in the small pouch hanging from my wrist and pull out the book that contains all my data.

The woman opens it and reads with a clear look of boredom.

She observes me briefly from under her lashes, evaluating me.

“Follow me.”

She starts walking down the aisle, and before we reach what was once the altar, we veer toward a small door.

I start hearing my own heartbeat.

The cold is still painful, and I wonder how she shows no signs of discomfort.

She’s human—the blush in her cheeks and her lack of pallor confirm it.

We emerge into a room dimly lit by candles, and other faces stare back at me.

There are several girls and boys, all with wide, fearful eyes.

“Take off your dress and put that on,” says the woman, pointing to a red cloth.

I look around, searching for a screen to change behind.

“There’s no…”

“Modesty and shyness are things you can no longer afford from now on,” she cuts me off. “Get changed quickly, they’re about to arrive.”

I take the red silk garment and, glancing quickly at my companions, I see that it does little to cover our nakedness.

The men’s chests are bare, and they wear a strange piece of clothing from the waist down.

I blush and quickly avert my gaze.

Everyone avoids eye contact, gripped by shame.

I try to undo the laces of my corset.

“One last question,” the woman in the red dress says before disappearing down the hallway. “Is your virtue intact?”

I blink.

“What does my virtue have to do with any of this?”

“They like the taste of virgin blood,” her tone is haughty. “Your virtue will increase your price.”

“Damn pigs…” I mutter.

“The answer is simple: yes or no.”

She arches an eyebrow at me, impatient. I square my shoulders and lift my chin.

“Yes, my virtue is intact.”

She nods as if pleased with my answer and disappears.

Just a few minutes have been enough to classify her as someone I dislike.

With difficulty, I bring my hands to my back and try to undo the dress. It’s hard, but obviously no one is going to offer to help. When I loosen the corset, I allow myself a deep sigh and let it fall to the floor. I slip off the dress and remain in only a thin undergarment.

I hug my body before taking that off as well, leaving me naked. I stare at the wall, pushing aside the shame, and without letting myself lower my gaze, I pull the red silk over my head, which falls softly and clings to my body.

A door opens on the other side, revealing a woman dressed entirely in black. Her face is covered by a lace veil, as if she must hide her identity to avoid being recognized by one of us and facing retribution.

“You’ll go out one by one,” she informs. “You can’t see them, but they can see you. Stay still and silent on the other side of the glass. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Her voice sounds very mature.

She says a name, and out of the corner of my eye, I see it’s a tiny, petite girl who, by the way she hunches her shoulders, must be terrified.

She walks out the door, and it closes forcefully behind her.

The woman stays in the room with us, and even though I can’t see her, I feel she’s subjecting us all to her scrutiny.

Maybe ten minutes pass when knuckles knock on the door, calling the next one.

Little by little, the room empties, and the air becomes heavier and more uncomfortable.

“For some of you, today will be a special day,” the woman says suddenly. “I’m sure of it.”

Maybe this woman is an old lady who’s begun to lose her mind. A special day? Being bought like pieces of meat?

How special can it be to know that the rest of your life will be dedicated to letting them sink their fangs into your neck?

“I seriously doubt it, ma’am,” I say, unable to hold back.

I know her eyes land on me, and the rest of those still in the room look at me in disbelief.

“Do not dare contradict my word, young lady.”

“What’s so special about being bought?”

The woman decides I’m not worth her time or the effort of wasting saliva on me. The door opens again, and then she turns toward me.

It’s my turn.

It’s hard to put one foot in front of the other, and yet I manage.

I pass by her, and a musty smell hits me. Without needing to see her, I know she must have a smug smile on her face.

As I step out, the light is so blinding that I have to close my eyes—I'm not used to this artificial light that only a few possess.

My eyes sting and tear up, and a stranger’s hand is necessary to guide me to the center.

After a few blinks, I realize I’m standing where the pulpit of the church used to be, and where now there’s nothing but floors covered in plush red carpets and a massive glass pane that reflects my image.

They’re there, behind it. Watching me, evaluating me, trying to smell my blood.

The lights dim, and only a single spotlight remains above my head, displaying me as if I were an expensive vase.

I don’t allow myself to lower my gaze or blush, knowing that many pairs of eyes are seeing my barely covered body.

“Elara Voss,” speaks a voice I recognize as the woman in the red dress. She sounds loud and confident.

“Healthy, weighs fifty-one kilos, presents no physical anomalies, her blood type is O negative, and… her virtue is intact. Bidding starts at fifteen Crimson gems.”

I can’t see anything happening on the other side.

“Gentleman number five offers twenty Crimson gems. Does anyone offer more?”

My eyes dart around, searching for something behind the glass.

“Lady number ten offers twenty-five Crimson gems.”

Amounts continue to be announced.

Men and women. Numbers and more numbers…

My legs buckle from time to time, and I feel completely overwhelmed knowing that the control of my life is slipping through my fingers and that in a few minutes I’ll have lost it entirely.

My vision blurs, and I blink quickly to chase away the sensation.

“Number twenty-eight offers fifty Crimson gems—any higher?”

Fifty?

How ironic that I’m being bought here for Crimson gems while my family will receive only a pouch of coins.

With just one of those precious stones, my family could live peacefully for years.

“Seventy Crimson gems.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

“Eighty Crimson gems!”

This is so sadistic and inhuman.

“One hundred Crimson gems!”

A shrill sound interrupts the sequence of bids, silencing the woman who kept torturing me with her voice.

I stay in place, waiting for an explanation.

Seconds pass, then whole minutes.

“The bidding has just ended,” the woman’s voice now reflects delight.

“Miss Elara Voss has just been purchased by Cassian Draven for the price of six hundred Crimson gems.”

The spotlight above my head turns off, plunging me into absolute darkness.

The creak of a door opening reaches my ears, and several pairs of hands grab me by the arms, pulling me out of there.

I don’t know if I should resist, but I let myself be dragged.

As they take me to another room, I realize that the lights had been warming me, and now the cold embraces me once again.

I find myself with the rest of the companions who were shown before me.

They look at me with wide eyes, and at first, I think it’s because of the fear they must have experienced out there, but after a few minutes, I realize it’s because of me.

“What’s going on?”

None of them dares to say a word.

I look at myself, searching for something out of place—a wound, or maybe my clothes got disheveled, showing more than they should.

Everything looks fine.

I lift my eyes, seeking answers.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Agonizing minutes pass until the petite girl I saw earlier, the one with hunched shoulders, dares to speak.

“We heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Who bought you?”

“What about it? It was some Cassian Drakov… Drakon or something.”

“Cassian Draven,” she corrects me. “Is it possible you’re this ignorant?”

“Excuse me?”

“Cassian Draven,” says a boy. “He’s a soulless monster. The worst of them. He’s ruled by an insatiable thirst.”

“Aren’t they all like that?” I reply.

“Not like him,” adds the girl again. “Your life ended the moment he bought you.”

“I think that goes for all of us here.”

“What we’re trying to say is… You probably won’t live to see the next full moon.”