Alchemy of Blood. Olga Shakirovna Isyanova

of Seth’s followers found a way to circumvent the gods’ ban.”

      Chacey, startled by her mentor’s story, was silent for a long time, digesting what she had just heard. Finally, she asked hesitantly, “And what became of Seth’s warriors after he was imprisoned?”

      Selene, lost in thought, replied, “Free from the bonds of their master, they have spread out across the world, mixing their blood with that of mortals and creating new kindred. And so, from generation to generation, we continue to exist, forever hiding our eyes from the light of the sun.”

      Chacey raised a skeptical eyebrow and said, “But it sounds like a legend, a fiction. Fairy tales for scaring children.”

      “Even the most terrifying fairy tales have some truth in them. And this story is no exception.”

      The distant sound of footsteps echoed through the dim hall from behind the closed door, making Selene and her student alert. The sweet, salty smell of human blood hung in the air, enticing and exciting the vampire’s senses. The cheerful voices of the staff coming from the corridor only served to reinforce the contrast between the carefree lives of humans and the dark existence of vampires.

      Selene glanced at Chacey and was alarmed to see an inky network of veins spreading around her eyes, the whites turning cloudy, and her upper canines elongating. Hunger gnawed at the young vampire, ready to break loose.

      “It’s starting again,” Selene thought, rolling her eyes. She snapped her fingers in front of Chacey’s face, forcing her to focus, and cupped her chin, gently turning her face to face her.

      “Keep your breath steady and focus on me,” Selene whispered, looking into her student’s hungry blue eyes.

      As the footsteps receded, Chacey gradually calmed down. Her breathing slowed, and the inky veil in her eyes began to clear.

      “Well done,” Selene said, patting her on the shoulder.

      Chacey grimaced as if at an unpleasant memory.

      “But I don’t understand why all these rules apply,” she sounded annoyed. “I want to see the world outside the palace! How long can I stay locked up?”

      Selene has already heard similar complaints from new converts. Young vampires with a burning thirst for life often did not understand why they should obey the strict rules of existence in a human society.

      “These rules aren’t just a whim,” Selene explained patiently. “They are the key to the security and preservation of our world. The sooner you realize this, the better it will be for you. As for your desire to leave the palace… Go ahead. But remember: the slightest mistake and your head will roll off your shoulders in the blink of an eye.”

      “What should I be afraid of?” Chacey snorted, tossing her shock of dark brown hair. “Mortals are just useless idiots,” there was a hint of contempt in her voice.

      Anger flared in Selene like a hot flame. How quickly this young convert had forgotten her human origins. But what was even more surprising was that Chacey had absolutely no memory of her past. Sometimes this happens to some converts: fate seems to take pity on them, erasing the tragic events from their memory. Sometimes oblivion is really better.

      “And what use are you?” Selene raised a dark brow, her silver eyes glinting dangerously from under thick lashes. “So far, you’re not of any value to the clan. Besides, you were a mortal yourself not so long ago, weren’t you?”

      “That was in a previous life,” Chacey said.

      “Is that so?” Selene said, turning her back on the neophyte and walking slowly toward the tall marble fireplace. “Remember when I said you needed motivation?”

      “Yes,” Chacey said.

      Selene went to the mantelpiece and picked up a fae dagger with a blade made of gold threads, similar to the pattern on a dragonfly’s wings. It gave off a soft, melodious chime.

      “You asked me how I was trained,” Selene continued, turning the dagger thoughtfully in her fingers, examining it. “The most important lesson I’ve learned…”

      With a sharp turn, Selene threw the dagger at her student with lightning speed. Instantly, Chacey raised her hands. The blade froze in midair just inches from her face. She stared at her mentor in a daze: with her close-cropped, disheveled hair and petite build, she looked like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.

      “It’s fear,” Selene hissed, her face as pale as porcelain and icy calm.

      Chacey dropped her hands abruptly, and the blade clattered to the marble floor. A look of horror crossed her face, and she hurried out of the library, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.

      Chapter 2

      After the student left, Selene froze in place, immersed in a mixed stream of emotions. Regret gnawed at her soul: if the girl had failed, her life would have ended because of her own lack of restraint. But some inner voice assured Selene otherwise. As it turned out, fear is the best incentive.

      Selene picked up a delicate golden blade from the floor. Its sharpened blade grinned like a beast that has lost its prey.

      “Not today, mate,” she said to the blade, and it gave a high, almost melodious chime in response.

      Such enchanted artifacts, especially those created by fae masters, were intelligent and incomparably rare. The secret of making them has long been lost.

      Selene returned the blade to its place and unconsciously turned her gaze to the large mirror over the fireplace. In his reflection, her father’s piercing silver eyes stared back at her, cold and grim. The resemblance disgusted her, reminding her of a man she didn’t want to know. Someone once told her that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother, and Selene would like to see her image in her own reflection. Unfortunately, it was impossible to remember someone she had never met.

      Selene’s dark stream of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by the sharp beep of her smartphone, breaking the silence of the library. After reading the incoming message, a warm smile lit up her face.

      ***

      Selene enjoyed the fresh air as she walked through the cobblestone streets of Venice. She savored the scents of salt water wafting from the canals, fresh coffee from cozy cafes, and the damp stones of ancient buildings. People hurried past on their way, couples strolled hand in hand, and tourists relentlessly took photos and videos, passing on gondolas or looking at the windows of souvenir shops.

      Selene loved such moments when there was an opportunity to simply disappear into the city bustle and feel like a part of the life that did not belong to her. Adjusting her sunglasses, she pushed past a group of students who were busily photographing an architectural detail.

      Selene’s gaze slid up, and she saw what had caught their attention: the Egyptian ankh cross adorning the marble facade of one of the buildings. The top of the cross was crowned with a loop, and in the center was an all-seeing eye. This symbol, found on the facades and pediments of palaces, cathedrals and other architectural structures not only in Venice, but also around the world, kept a secret known only to a select few. Those who had knowledge of its true meaning wore it as a sign of belonging to the Supreme Clan. Selene, wearing a miniature ankh brooch, was one of them.

      After looking into a charming coffee corner and a flower stand, Selene headed for a small palazzo. The wrought-iron gate creaked, letting her into a courtyard that smelled of exotic plants. A young man in a dark green shirt and jeans and a girl in a light summer dress were walking towards her. They were cooing, and the girl was smiling sweetly, clutching a bottle of floral perfume to her chest. The young man stopped, plucked a snow-white lily from the flowerbed and gallantly handed it to his companion. She blushed and accepted the flower gratefully. With an embarrassed glance over her shoulder, she disappeared through the gate.

      The young