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words seemed to infuse the ink itself, making it just as vibrant as the day it had been penned.
     
    Kirill was still struggling to translate it all. Thus far, all he’d been able to make out were bits about the World Tree and the need for blood to make it appear. The scroll hinted at some sort of prophecy. There was a “Great New Kingdom” to be had by whomever could offer the land the blood it needed.
     
    Glancing around, Kirill took note of various other texts. History books penned by people from all over the five kingdoms, gathered over the years by Kirill himself, spoke of other monarchs who had sought to unlock the mystery. There was King Laurimar of Sanguenay who had tried sacrificing numerous members of his own kingdom to try and coax the land into giving up its power.
     
    Then there was his own father, who had tried drinking blood, long before their family’s transformation. Kirill’s father had believed that since he, as king, was tied to the land, drinking blood would in effect be giving blood to the kingdom. He’d forced his wife and son to drink it as well. Though his attempts had not led to any Great New Kingdom, it had saved his family. When the peasants had revolted and killed Kirill and his parents, it had been their sanguine activities that had resurrected them as vampires. Kirill sighed. He supposed he owed his father for that.
     
    That wasn’t even the end of it. Ancient kings from the other three kingdoms had tried too. The king of Nysa had tried ordering that all virgin brides be taken by their husbands for the first time while lying out in the fields, blessing the land with the blood of their lost maidenhood. The king of Meropis had tried blessing wine and using the symbolic “blood” to christen the land. Even the king of Mu had made his own attempts, spilling his own blood once a month in the hopes that his sacrifice would bring him a new world.
     
    All had failed.
     
    But Kirill knew something the other men hadn’t. It was the World Tree that needed the blood, not just the land. And the tree didn’t seem to want just any blood either. No, it had summoned the princes of the five kingdoms. It was their blood that would unlock the prophecy and open up the Great New World. As best as Kirill could determine, the true World Tree couldn’t even be found unless the tree itself willed it.
     
    Kirill sat down on a stool in front of the table. Despite their kingdoms’ history, none of the other princes seemed to know anything about the prophecy. Even the god seemed to act on instinct as opposed to any real knowledge. If Kirill could just get a few more pieces to the puzzle, it would put him ahead of them all. He had so much information at his fingertips, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. If only Serafina didn’t insist on being so difficult.
     
    His thoughts turned to the bloodthirsty sorceress that ruled the territory to the east. He’d been courting her for ages, coaxing out information in painstakingly small bits and pieces. Serafina was one of the oldest creatures in the kingdom. If anyone could help him decipher the scroll, it was her.
     
    Unfortunately, he didn’t trust her. It wasn’t anything personal to Serafina, per se, Kirill didn’t trust anyone. He especially didn’t trust anyone enough to let them see the scroll. Kirill frowned. Serafina knew something about the prophecy. Just last night, she’d mentioned the prince of Sanguenay and commented that she was pleased his blood would remain potent. The way she’d stared into Kirill’s eyes had convinced him that she knew something, but every time he’d tried to pry more information from her she’d just smiled and changed the subject.
     
    Frustration sizzled through his veins and Kirill shot to his feet. The stool toppled over with the sudden force of his movement, but he ignored it. He stormed over to the wall where a map of the five kingdoms hung. The paper tickled the pad of his finger as he ran it over Dacia ,