As the scent brushed against her, Antonia’s nostrils quivered. It was warm, metallic, and laced with an ancient echo—something that slithered beneath the skin, nesting there like a blasphemous whisper. She turned her gaze toward its source, and the dying light of the moon sank into her black eyes, hollow as sockets carved in stone. She thought she could see that scent: a purplish trail, snaking through the damp alleys of Rome, throbbing like a wound that had never healed.

Antonia flicked open the silver lighter in her hand. She hadn't managed to extract so much as a name from the walking corpse she was dragging along. The girl kept rambling about a clinic, an attempted abortion, and an escape from some unidentified foreign country.

"You did well to bring her here," Matron Eliana began, observing the child with her small, almond-shaped eyes.

She exuded an icy calm, yet Antonia noticed the nervous movement of her bony hands smoothing down her long black hair. Her gaze fell on the striking serpent-shaped ring adorning her finger—without a doubt, a fitting piece for her. She was certainly already scheming how to use this situation to expand her influence over the other Conservarii.

By the time she reached her destination, two nights had passed since the desecration of the Conservarium. She had traveled light, feeding only on the blood of wild animals to avoid any detours. The taste of filth still clung to her tongue, and she longed to sink her teeth into a far more satisfying meal. She pushed the thought aside and focused on the place before her.

For the return journey, she had been forced to make a detour to feed on human blood. The alternative was to risk weakening herself to the point of no longer being able to procure a victim, so she had chosen an old farmer and drained him in his sleep. Disposing of the body had been easy: she had flung it down a ravine, leaving the rest to the animals.