"You're a madman," Seraphina said, staring at Ali like she was trying to understand a new species. His presence was unnatural—commanding in a way few mortals ever were. His voice, posture, and the sheer weight of his will reminded her of only a few beings she'd known in her long, violent life.
'Kings. Emperors. My mother…' she thought. 'He reminds me of all of them.'
Ali just smirked, fully aware of the storm behind her eyes.
"So," he said, raising his chin slightly, "do I have House Nightveil with me?"
Seraphina didn't answer immediately. Instead, she raised her hand, opened her mouth, and revealed her now mostly human teeth—except for two sharp, extended canines. She sank them into her palm. The wound was shallow. Only two drops of blood escaped her body, but it was all she could offer in her starved state. That blood still pulsed with royal magic, thick with heritage, and ancient power.
"I am not a slave," she said sharply, her voice regal and clear. "I am an ally. You will not hinder me from rebuilding House Nightveil or reclaiming its ancestral lands. You will not stop me from killing those who destroyed my family. And I will not—will not—sacrifice my life for yours."
Her words were sharp, but calm. The two drops of blood rose into the air, hovering between them, glowing faintly.
Ali raised a brow and gave her an unimpressed look, one that clearly said, Really? He raised his index finger, the golden ring catching the dim ambient light, and the interface in front of him pulsed. A window appeared, showing a contract titled [Blood Pact: Seraphina V. Nightveil], with her terms listed clearly and awaiting his approval.
"You'll be a servant," Ali said coolly, each word like ice. "I'm calling it that instead of slave to spare your pride."
"What do you—" she began, but didn't finish.
With a flick of his finger, the Force closed her mouth shut. Not violently—just decisively. A firm reminder of their current balance of power. Or imbalance, rather. Seraphina glared at him, but couldn't ignore the truth: she was starved, weakened, disconnected from her true might. And Ali was not hesitating to use every inch of his advantage.
"You'll get your revenge," Ali said evenly, "but only when I permit it. In most cases, I'll say yes—unless your targets conflict with my interests. Once I'm done with them? They're all yours. Kill them however you want."
He stepped forward, hands behind his back like a monarch outlining royal decree.
"As for your House," he continued, "you'll rebuild it under my supervision. It will grow alongside my territory. And I have final say in all matters concerning Nightveil. Think of it as a shared project—with one of us in charge."
Seraphina's eyes flared. She was not used to being dictated to, especially not by someone younger than her by centuries.
"And the last point," Ali said with a dismissive wave, "you don't have to throw yourself in front of a sword for me. I'll give you that one."
Seraphina looked furious. But she didn't interrupt. Not yet.
"The terms are ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. Her fingers twitched slightly, the predatory instinct simmering just below the surface. Her red eyes flicked to the blood still glistening on Ali's arms and chest. 'If I can just reach the blood… maybe I could—'
Ali didn't need to read her thoughts to know exactly what she was considering.
"I'll add one more term," he said, voice suddenly softer—but no less dangerous. "Once I've claimed what I came for—once my kingdom is solid and I'm satisfied—I'll release the blood pact. You'll be free. Your House, your name, your autonomy… all returned."
He paused, then added casually, "The ring stays with me, though."
Then, with a quiet intensity, his eyes sharpened.
"Oh, and Seraphina…"
A low hum began to rise from behind her. Heat prickled at the back of her neck.
She turned, and what she saw made her blood run colder than the deepest tomb.
Floating inches behind her, suspended in the air by unseen force, was a blade—but not of steel. It was flame, compressed so tightly it had taken on form, weight, and edge. A solid stream of fire shaped like a longsword, radiating with lethal heat and an unnatural stillness.
Ali's voice cut through the air.
"If you move so much as an inch, you will die."
Lightning sparked across his arms, racing along black veins like live wire. He stood tall, unwavering, like a god of war sentencing a challenger. His presence swallowed the room whole.
Seconds passed like hours.
Seraphina froze, her hunger, pride, and fury trapped in a stalemate with fear and logic. Then—without a word—the two droplets of blood drifted forward, drawn into the golden ring. The interface glowed, the contract shifting.
Her red eyes met Ali's black ones. The fire in her was still there—but behind it now sat something else.
"I accept," she said quietly.
Ali smiled. Slowly. Devilishly.
'This is the heist of the century,' he thought. 'A starving Royal Vampire, heir to a broken throne, now bound to me. I really lucked out on this one…'
He stepped closer again, the blood on his skin still slick, still warm. Not a single drop was his own—it all belonged to the bandits whose corpses fed the stone below. He stood before her, taller now in presence than in height.
Seraphina held his gaze, the fire in her eyes dimmed but not extinguished.
Ali raised his hand and slowly wiped the blood off his face, clearing away the last remnants of the slaughter. Then, without a word, he raised his bloodied fist above Seraphina's head.
She looked up at him, eyes locked on his, and for a moment something inside her flickered.
'I've only ever done this with my mother…' she thought, swallowing hard. 'Fate has truly been cruel to me.'
Ali's face was still and unreadable, but to her—right now—he might as well have been carved from marble. She had seen many men in her lifetime, kings and conquerors, monsters and knights and vampires, even incubus but none of them looked like him. None of them carried the weight of ambition in their gaze the way Ali did.
She tilted her chin up, lips parting slightly.
Her eyes gleamed crimson, pupils dilated wide, and her fangs were out in full display—sharp, perfect, and eager. This wasn't seduction. This was raw, starved instinct. She didn't want blood. She needed it.
Ali opened his fist slowly. The blood trickled down, thick and warm, and the first drop fell into her waiting mouth.
DROP.
The instant it hit her tongue, Seraphina's body trembled. Her eyes widened—glowing brighter than ever—and her restraint shattered.
A hunger centuries deep exploded through her.
She grabbed Ali's forearm with surprising strength for her depleted state, pulled it downward, and pressed his palm to her lips. She licked the blood greedily, ravenously, her tongue tracing every drop along the curve of his hand and forearm. Her breath was ragged. Her eyes, wild.
Ali watched her silently. His face remained expressionless, but his mind was racing.
'I own this bitch,' he thought, not smugly, but with cold, calculated satisfaction.
With a wave of his free hand, the pool of blood that had gathered under the sunlight lifted into the air like liquid ribbons. It spiralled in a tight vortex, then poured into his empty water container—litres upon litres of fresh red blood, sealed away and stored in his inventory with a thought.
Seraphina didn't notice. She was lost to the taste. She moved to his other arm, licking every trace of blood as though each drop was sacred. The sensation was strange for Ali—her tongue was cold, yet her breath was hot, and there was something intimate, almost primal, in the act. But to her, it was salvation. Bliss. A rush of life pouring into her veins.
Then she went for his neck.
Ali's expression hardened. "Enough."
His voice carried the weight of command—not loud, but undeniable. The pact activated instantly, pulling her out of her blood-hazed trance. She stopped, blinked, and stumbled back, her lips smeared red, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
She licked her lips instinctively, savouring what remained. Ali took a breath, watching her closely.
'It's… seductive in a way,' he admitted silently, looking at the woman who had just fed on him like a feral beast—now standing before him like a cursed goddess. Even drenched in blood, she was breathtaking.
A notification blinked in his interface, he now saw the messages from Miles.
He skimmed through them quickly and sent a brief reply: I'm fine. Heading back soon.
Ali's eyes returned to Seraphina. "Do you know how many years you've been asleep?"
Seraphina's posture relaxed slightly. Her fangs retracted. Her monstrous red eyes slowly faded to a piercing shade of blue, deceptively human. In moments, she no longer looked like a creature of nightmares. She looked like royalty—like a noblewoman of an imperial court.
'They're good at this,' Ali thought, watching her transformation. 'Too good. I see how humans would have suffered greatly from them.'
"It should be… no more than a hundred years," she said with confidence. "I intended only a short slumber."
Ali checked the history files Miles had pulled from the ruined libraries of House Stork. It wasn't much—half-burned pages and scattered footnotes—but Fiona's annotations had helped piece together a timeline.
"Well," Ali said, "I've got some bad news for you."
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Did I oversleep? Forty years?"
Ali looked at her flatly. "Try just over four hundred."
Silence.
Seraphina's face paled further—something Ali didn't think was possible. "What…?"
"You've been asleep for four centuries," Ali confirmed. "The Demon War ended over 400 years ago. Since then, humans have taken the continent. Your kind—vampires, demons, all who fought with the demons—are extinct or in hiding."
"No… that's not possible," Seraphina whispered. Her hands trembled. "It can't be…"
Ali read more from Miles's message. 'The demi-humans were weak before the war and were getting colonised and butchered by the invading humans so they gained powers from the demons and fought with the demons against the humans. The records claim they were always demon spawn from the demon world, which now they are branded as erasing the fact they are the true residents of this land. Enslaved across the continent. Whole bloodlines wiped or chained.', this helped Ali understand where the hate towards the human came from.
Seraphina was frozen, speechless.
"But none of that matters now," Ali said, his tone sharp, snapping her out of her spiral. "You're with me now. There's work to be done. Understood ?"
Before she could answer, Abeloth roared above them. The hole shook violently as Eldora crashed through a wall near the ceiling, stone raining down in chunks. The sun's light began creeping in.
Seraphina instinctively recoiled, stepping back from into the shrinking darkness.
"What was that?" she asked.
"My other dragon," Ali said, casually. "You'll meet her properly later."
The hole above widened, sunlight spilling down closer to Seraphina's feet.
"How did vampires travel during the day?" Ali asked, pulling a hood from his inventory.
"Anything that creates shade is enough," she replied automatically, still tense. She glanced up and saw a stunning emerald-green dragon land beside Abeloth, growling and snapping at him in fury. The air between them crackled with draconic energy.
"Stop it, both of you," Ali ordered. "It's time to head home. You're carrying their hoard too."
He tossed the hood to Seraphina, who caught it and pulled it over her head. She inhaled deeply—and paused.
'He smells… different,' she thought, confused. 'Not like a human. It's warm, rich, intoxicating. But there's something else. Dragons don't regenerate like that. And those two are still young. There's more to him… a lot more…'
She looked at Ali's broad back as he walked toward the dragons, issuing orders without fear or hesitation.
'Who the hell are you, really…?'
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