18. Casandra
Past
The silence stretching between my father and me feels heavy, thick with the weight of secrets that have been kept in the dark for two decades.
I stare at him, my knuckles white as I grip the soft sheets beneath me.
The grand, medieval room feels entirely surreal, like a movie set I’ve been dropped into against my will.
“Dad, what is this place?” I voice the question again, my tone steadier this time, though my heart is still hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “What did Virgil give me to drink? What happened to my eyes?”
My father doesn’t look away. His eyes, usually so warm and familiar, carry a profound gravity that makes me brace myself. “What Virgil gave you was blood, Casandra.”
I blink, a nervous, involuntary laugh bubbling up in my throat. “Blood? What are you talking about? Like a blood transfusion? Am I sick?”
“You’re not sick. You were transitioning,” he says softly, leaning forward. He places his large hands flat on the mattress, grounding himself. “The sickness you’ve felt — it was your human body dying off to make room for what you actually are.”
“The fuck?” I whisper, the air suddenly feeling thin.
“Language, Casandra. You.. WE are vampires.”
The words hang in the air, ridiculous and sharp. I stare at his face, looking for the punchline, looking for any sign that my pragmatic, corporate-minded father has finally lost his mind. “Vampires,” I repeat flatly. “Right. And I suppose we live in Dracula’s castle, and we sparkle in the sun?”
“No,” he says, completely unbothered by my sarcasm.
I shake my head, pulling the sheets up to my chin as if they could shield me from the sheer absurdity of his words. “This is insane. I’m dreaming. I fell asleep in my apartment in Karlstad because of the fever, and I’m having a hallucination.”
“It’s not a dream, Cassie,” he says, his voice softer, cutting through my denial like a blade.
“Look at the room. Look at me. Listen to your own breathing. Your senses are sharper than they have ever been, aren’t they? You can hear the wind howling outside the stone walls. You can hear the heartbeat of the guards standing outside that door.
Your human life was an illusion we carefully constructed to protect you until your twentieth birthday—the day the dormant blood in your veins finally woke up.”
I close my eyes, and to my horror, I realize he’s right.
I can hear things I shouldn’t—the distant, rhythmic sound of hearts through the doors, the scrape of boots on stone a floor below us, the distinct rustle of leaves miles away.
The world is suddenly deafeningly loud, yet my mind filters it with terrifying precision.
“H-how?” I start, my voice trembling as the first cracks of belief begin to form in my mind.
“Vampires aren’t the only ones hiding in the shadows of the mundane world,” my father says, his expression serious.
“There are witches, who manipulate the natural elements and ancient magic. There are the Fae, isolated and bound by their own cruel, unbreakable laws. And there are shifters—the most common and dominant among them being the lycanthropes. Wolves.”
He pauses, letting the information settle before he continues. He uses his hands to gesture, trying to break down a hidden world into terms he knows I will understand.
“You were raised under the name Casandra Popescu, but that was a necessity to keep you safe. Your real name is Casandra Corvin. We come from the oldest, most ancient lineage of our kind.”
This can’t be real.
”If you were that important, why was I living in a tiny apartment in Sweden?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Why did Grandma raise me in a village in Western Romania instead of.. a palace?” I gesture vaguely at room we’re in.
My father’s eyes darken, a flash of pain crossing his face. “Because we were at war.”
“To understand why you were hidden, you have to know our history and understand how our world is structured.”
He pauses, searching for an analogy I can grasp.
“Think of it like modern politics. Vampires are organized into clans. A clan is essentially like a village or a town. It can be as small as ten individuals or as large as a hundred, grouped together simply because of geographic proximity.
But because small clans don’t have the authority or wisdom to govern themselves on a larger scale, several clans will unite to form a territory—much like a country. These territories are represented by a handful of selected elders.”
I listen, even though my soul screams in disbelief. This. Can’t. Be. Real.
“Before the war, we had High Elders, who sat above territory elders,” my father continues, his voice dipping into a darker, more reverent tone, “These were the rulers born from the six original, pure bloodlines. The Corvins—our family—are the oldest bloodline in existence.
The second oldest is the Sakhrayea line. Together with four other ancient families, the six bloodlines formed the Council of High Elders. If the territory elders couldn’t resolve a crisis, it was brought to us. You can think of the council as a.. world government.”
He stands up, pacing the length of the massive mahogany bed before turning back to face me.
“Then the war broke out. The Sakhrayea line fell victim to a toxic, radical ideology. They believed in absolute genetic superiority. They believed that vampires were the apex predators of the earth, and that all other supernatural species were filth meant to be eradicated or enslaved.
They decided to start a global purging, and they chose to strike the werewolves first, seeing them as the only species powerful enough to match our physical strength and numbers.”
My breath catches.
“We refused to join them. We believed in balance, in the treaties that had kept the peace for millennia. But the Sakhrayea were brutal, and they managed to turn the other four bloodlines to their side through.. fear and manipulation.”
Something unreadable flickers in his eyes before he continues.
“The war started the year you were born, Casandra. It was a bloodbath that spanned a few years. The Sakhrayea were hunting for any weakness, any leverage. If they had discovered that we had an infant heir, you would have been assassinated or used as a pawn to force our compliance. So,
we decided to hide you. We sent you to the west with your grandmother.”
The memory of my grandmother’s parting words flashes through my mind with a sudden, violent clarity. “You never know what tomorrow brings, Cassie. You have no responsibilities, no burdens. Put yourself first while you still have the luxury to do so.”
She wasn’t just giving me sweet, grandmotherly advice. She knew. She knew that the moment I turned twenty, the luxury of my normal, quiet human life would explode.
“What happened? With the war?” I ask, my throat dry.
“We formed an alliance,” my father says, a proud but weary smile touching his lips. “The wolves work similarly to us, though their structure is more rigid, bound by instinct. They are organized into packs, each ruled by an Alpha and a Luna. But the alphas all answer to their King.”
He steps closer to the bed, looking down at me with absolute seriousness.
“During the height of the war, when the Sakhrayea had the wolves cornered and were preparing for total extinction, we stepped in. We got involved in the war we previously tried to stay out of. We broke ranks with our own. We brought our armies, our wealth, and our ancient magic to the Alpha King.
Together, we crushed the Sakhrayea, executed their leaders, and saved the wolves from annihilation. The peace treaties that govern the world today were signed on the blood of our family and the word of the Alpha King. Our Council has been dissolved,
the High Elders have been stripped of their authority and as the leader of our family, I was crowned to rule over our kind to ensure a war like that never happens again. But not all covens and territories recognize it.”
I sit frozen, the sheer magnitude of his words crashing over me like a tidal wave.
My mind fractures under the weight of it.
Just yesterday, I was worried about my marketing exams, my part-time logistics job, and a birthday brunch with Linnea.
I thought I was an ordinary girl from a slightly well-off Romanian family, trying to build an independent life in Scandinavia.
Now, I am being told that I am an ancient vampire.. princess? That my family saved an entire species of monsters from extinction. That my quiet, independent human life was nothing more than a temporary shield against a world of blood, war, and crowns.
“This is too much,” I whisper, burying my face in my hands as the reality of it all suffocates me.
I feel the mattress sink beside me. My father wraps a strong, warm arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. It’s the same comforting embrace he gave me when I scraped my knees as a child, the few times he was actually around.
“I know, honey,” he murmurs into my hair. “I know it’s a lot. I think I know someone who might help you accept this new reality.”