Sara couldn't sleep that night.
Even though the clan had listened… even though some had accepted her… the fear hadn't left her chest. The more they looked to her as a leader, the more she questioned herself.
What if she wasn't enough?
What if she failed them?
She stood alone in the clearing where the moonlight touched the earth like silver fire. Her hands clenched into fists.
Suddenly, she sensed it — a shift in the air.
A presence.
Someone… watching her.
"Who's there?" Sara called out.
Silence.
She took a step forward. "I can feel you."
From the shadows, a figure stepped out. A man, cloaked in smoke, eyes glowing like dying embers.
"Impressive," he said, his voice smooth and cold. "You've awakened more than I expected."
Sara narrowed her eyes. "You're Noctis."
He tilted his head. "I am called Lucien. And you… are wasting your gift."
"I'll never join you," she snapped.
Lucien smiled. "Join? Oh, dear girl… I don't want you to join. I want you to become. The world is afraid of what you are. The vampires fear your power. The wolves want to chain it. But us? We'll set it free."
"I don't want your darkness."
He laughed softly. "But it already lives inside you. Haven't you felt it? The rage… the hunger… the strength when your blood burns?" He stepped closer. "You were born from war. You were never meant for peace."
Sara's heart pounded. Her body tensed. "Get away from me."
"You were created to rule, Sara," Lucien whispered. "Not follow. When you're ready to accept who you really are… come find me."
He stepped backward — and vanished into black smoke.
Moments later, Viraj came running through the trees.
"I felt something—what happened?" he asked.
Sara stared at the empty air. "He was here. A Noctis. He called himself Lucien."
Viraj's expression darkened. "He's one of their oldest. He's known for turning powerful people to their side."
Sara looked at him. "He said I was born from war."
"You weren't," Viraj said firmly. "You were born from love. That's what makes you different."
She didn't answer.
But inside, she knew Lucien had touched something in her. Something deep. Something dark.
And she hated how much of it felt real.
Back at home, Arya sat at the fireplace, holding the old letter from Diviya.
Rohan came and sat beside her.
"Do you think she's ready?" he asked.
Arya looked into the fire. "She's already more than we ever were."
"But will she choose light… or shadow?"
Arya closed her eyes. "That, only she can decide."
In the dead of night, Sara had a dream.
She stood at a crossroads. To her left — a path bathed in golden light, quiet and peaceful. To her right — a road of black flames and stormy skies.
And in the middle… herself.
One hand glowing white. The other black with shadow.
A voice echoed all around her:
You will either save them all… or destroy everything.
The next morning, Sara woke up in a cold sweat.
Her dream still echoed in her mind — the crossroads, the fire, the voice whispering you will either save them all… or destroy everything.
She sat up slowly, breathing hard.
Was it just a dream? Or a warning?
Later that day, she returned to the forest to meet with Arya and Rohan. They had come to check on her after hearing about Lucien's visit.
"You should've called us the moment he appeared," Arya said sharply.
"I could handle it," Sara replied, but her voice lacked confidence.
"Noctis don't show themselves unless they want something," Rohan said. "Lucien is dangerous. His words can twist even the strongest minds."
Sara looked at the ground. "He said… I was meant for war. That peace was never my destiny."
Arya stepped forward and cupped Sara's face gently. "You are not your blood. Not your past. You're the one who chooses."
"But what if I choose wrong?" Sara asked.
Arya didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pulled something out of her pocket — a small silver necklace with a crescent moon charm.
"This was Diviya's," she said. "She wore it the night she died. She believed in the moon's balance — that darkness and light must exist together, but one must never overpower the other."
Sara took the necklace. It was warm in her hand, like it had been waiting for her.
"I want to believe I can find balance," she whispered.
"Then you already have more power than the Noctis ever will," Rohan said gently.
That evening, Sara and Viraj stood near the edge of a cliff overlooking the valley. The moon was rising, full and silver.
"Do you ever wonder," she asked, "what we could've been if I was just normal?"
Viraj looked at her with soft eyes. "No. Because then I wouldn't have found you. And you wouldn't be the reason I believe peace between our kinds is possible."
Sara looked at him. "Do you think we'll ever be safe?"
Viraj's answer was quiet. "Not in this world. But maybe we can make a new one."
He reached for her hand. She let him hold it.
But her eyes were still on the horizon — and in her heart, a storm was brewing.
Far away, Lucien stood atop a ruined tower, watching the same moon.
"She resists," he muttered. "Good."
A second Noctis, pale and silent, stood beside him.
"She grows stronger," it whispered.
Lucien smirked. "Yes. And soon… we'll show her that strength means nothing without purpose."
He turned to the figure. "Find the girl's weakness. Break her from the inside."
The figure vanished like smoke on wind.
At midnight, Sara woke again.
Not from a dream — but from a feeling.
A pull. A whisper in her blood. A memory not her own.
She walked to the mirror and looked at her reflection.
For a moment, she didn't see herself.
She saw glowing eyes.
Fangs.
Claws.
A crown of fire.
And a thousand voices calling her name.