The train to Prague rattled through midnight forests. Élise traced the black rose's thorny stem. "The Court lives. Come find me. V." Lucien slept opposite her, face tense even in dreams. His surgeon's hands twitched—still fighting phantom vampires.
He saved me, she thought. But my blood destroyed his half-curse. What am I now? Her reflection in the window showed ghost-pale hair and empty hands. No magic. No scent-memories. Just the bitter taste of survival.
At the Czech border, a hunched woman boarded their compartment. Her shawl smelled of grave soil and burnt sugar. "You seek the Alchemists' Guild," she rasped, not a question.
Lucien stirred, instantly alert. "Who told you that?"
"The roses whisper, Doctor." The woman's milky eyes fixed on Élise. "They sing of the Dubois witch. The one who bleeds death."
Élise recoiled. "How do you know my name?"
The woman laughed—a dry rattle. "Your mother worked Guild contracts before she ran to Paris. Stole their greatest secret: the Blood Perfume recipe." She spat on the floor. "Now you come crawling back? Guildmaster Václav will skin you alive."
Lucien stood, blocking Élise. "Get out."
The woman vanished at the next stop. But she left a gift on the seat: a clockwork raven, gears clicking. Its beak opened. A recorded voice hissed: "Welcome to Prague, Thief. We've prepared a test. Survive it, and we'll talk about 'V.'"
The raven exploded in a cloud of saffron gas. Lucien shoved Élise down, covering her mouth. "Poison! Hold your breath—"
Too late. Élise inhaled sweetness. Her vision swam. The gas wasn't lethal—it was memory.
She saw: - Her mother at a gilded desk, signing a contract with the Vampire Court's seal - A younger Guildmaster Václav handing her a vial of black liquid - "The Dubois bloodline belongs to us," Václav saying. "Raise the girl. We'll collect her when the power matures."
The memory vanished. Lucien slapped her cheek. "Élise! Stay with me!"
She gasped. "My mother… sold me to the Guild. Before I was born."
Outside, Prague's spires pierced the dawn. Somewhere in those twisted streets, the Guild waited. And the truth about "V" hung like a blade over her last fragile hope.