The mountains weren't supposed to be this quiet.
Lyria Moen adjusted the strap of her backpack and squinted into the mist. Even the birds had gone silent. Behind her, Sena huffed dramatically, dragging a pink suitcase that clearly wasn't made for rocky paths.
> "Tell me again why we didn't just go to a beach resort like normal people?"
"Because I found this place on a hidden blog," Lyria replied, eyes focused on the trail. "No crowds. No noise. Just cold, creepy air and maybe a haunted tree. You're welcome."
Sena rolled her eyes. "If I die, I'm haunting your dreams. In heels."
They reached what looked like the end of the trail, where a rusted sign hung crookedly on two nails, mostly swallowed by moss.
> "FOR THOSE WHO SEEK WHAT SHOULD BE LEFT BEHIND."
"What... the hell?" Sena blinked. "That doesn't scream tourist-friendly."
But Lyria was already moving. A chill brushed over her skin — not the cold kind, but the kind that made your bones whisper don't. And yet, she kept walking.
Just beyond the trees, they found it.
A mirror-polished elevator, freestanding in the middle of a clearing. No walls. No wires. Just... there.
> "This is it," Lyria whispered.
"This is what, exactly?" Sena asked. "Where's the resort? Where's the cabins? Where's literally anything that makes sense?!"
Lyria pressed the button. The elevator doors opened without a sound.
And then — stupidly, bravely — she stepped inside.
---
The world dropped.
It wasn't just the floor. It was time. Space. Air. Everything pulled away like someone had yanked the ground out from under reality.
Sena screamed. Lyria grabbed her wrist.
And then — silence.
---
When the doors opened, it wasn't the forest anymore.
They stepped out onto a velvet floor, under a glass ceiling where stars moved like paint in water. Towering pillars of black marble framed an endless hallway of red light, soft music echoing through the air.
It smelled like roses. And iron.
A voice — cold and smooth as winter wind — cut through the silence.
> "You are not on the guest list."
The girls turned.
He stood at the far end of the hall. Tall. Dressed in a black tailored suit. Eyes like ancient silver. Not a hair out of place. Not a heartbeat to be heard.
> Kael Virell.
CEO of Velmoire Palace. The richest man in the vampire realm.
Lyria swallowed hard. "Right. We got... lost."
Kael took one step forward, and the air shifted like it obeyed him.
> "No humans are allowed in Velmoire."
> "That's discrimination," Sena muttered, trying to hide behind Lyria. "We could sue."
Lyria held her ground. Her voice steady. "If you want us gone, send us back. We didn't mean to crash your creepy mansion."
Kael raised one perfect brow. "I would. But this palace doesn't open for humans. And it never lets them leave."