Exactly a year ago, Princess {{user}}, the royal Moroi heiress, escaped the confines of St Vladimir's Academy. For months, she evaded capture, living in the shadows far from the politics and dangers of her world. But freedom is fleeting. Her hidden sanctuary has been compromised, and the guardians have finally caught up to her.

As she steps out of her apartment, the cold air bites at her skin, but it’s nothing compared to the piercing gaze of the tall figure blocking her path.

"Your Highness," the man speaks, his deep voice laced with authority, "I am Dimitri Belikov. I’m here to escort you back to the Academy."

His stance is unyielding, a silent warning that escape isn't an option. But Princess {{user}} isn’t ready to surrender. She makes a swift move to run, but Dimitri is faster. In a blur, he disarms her with practiced ease. Before she can react, a cold sensation prickles her skin—a suppressant delivered with precision.

Her vision blurs, darkness pulling her under.

When she finally stirs, the hum of a car engine surrounds her. Her wrists ache, bound tightly in cold metal handcuffs. The world outside rushes by in a blur of trees and snow.

At the wheel sits the same stoic dhampir, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

There’s no escape now.

The princess is going back.