Back in the alley—
Rowan lay sprawled on the cold cobblestone, his small body trembling uncontrollably.
His ears rang.
A high, piercing whine that drowned out everything else.
His vision blurred, distorted by tears that refused to stop falling. The image replayed over and over in his mind—
Red eyes.
Blood-stained lips.
The way the stranger had said his name.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Subtle.
A faint scrape of fabric against stone.
It snapped him back to himself.
His breathing hitched violently as his gaze jerked toward the source.
"…Mom?"
She was moving.
Rowan forced his arms beneath him and pushed himself upright, though his legs felt weak and unreliable. His knees nearly buckled again, but instinct—raw and desperate—overrode his terror.
He stumbled forward.
"M-Mom… are you okay?"
His voice shook so badly the words almost failed to form.
He reached her and dropped to his knees beside her, his small hands gently gripping her shoulders as if afraid she might shatter.
Her body was trembling.
Not weakly.
But subtly.
Like restrained tension vibrating beneath the surface.
"Mom?" he whispered again.
Slowly—
She lifted her head.
Rowan froze.
Her eyes gleamed red.
Not faintly.
Not softly.
Bright.
Luminous.
Predatory.
The glow reflected faintly against the damp stone walls of the alley.
Her lips parted slightly—
And Rowan saw them.
Fangs.
Sharp.
Elongated.
Where normal human teeth should have been.
A thin string of saliva slipped from the corner of her mouth and fell to the cobblestone.
Rowan staggered backward as if struck.
"N–No…"
His breath came in short, broken gasps.
He fell onto his hands and scrambled backward, heels scraping against stone as panic consumed him.
Her gaze locked onto him.
Unblinking.
Hungry.
The wound that had torn open her shoulder only minutes ago—
Was gone.
Perfect skin.
Smooth.
Unmarked.
Not even a scar remained.
She shifted forward slightly.
Her movements were unnatural in their smoothness—too fluid, too controlled, like something learning how to inhabit a human body.
Rowan's voice cracked as he cried out, "Mom!"
She stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Deliberate.
Drool fell to the stone in faint, glistening threads.
Rowan kept dragging himself backward, palms scraping raw against the cobblestone, terror suffocating him.
"M–Mom… please…"
She was almost within reach.
Her red eyes brightened—
The hunger in them intensifying—
Then—
She stopped.
Mid-step.
Her body went completely still.
Her head tilted slightly to the side.
As if listening.
As if hearing something no one else could.
Her expression shifted.
Predation faltered.
Confusion surfaced.
Then restraint.
Conflict rippled across her features—subtle, but unmistakable.
Her breathing steadied.
The sharp rise and fall of her chest slowed into something controlled.
The hunger in her eyes wavered.
For a long, fragile second—
She stared at Rowan.
Not as prey.
But as something else.
Recognition flickered faintly behind the crimson glow.
Then—
Without a word—
She turned.
And in a blur of unnatural speed—
She vanished into the darkness at the far end of the alley.
Gone.
Leaving Rowan alone on the cold stone.
Crying.
Shaking.
Calling out for a mother who no longer answered.
---
The door opened.
Draven stepped inside.
The moment it shut behind him, he spoke.
"We're leaving. Now."
He did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
The room was already thick with tension.
Vaelith stood near the corridor entrance, Lucifer and Elenya secured carefully in her arms. The slime rested quietly atop Draven's head, its small body still. The cat's violet eyes gleamed faintly from his shoulder.
Aldric was already on his feet.
Lyriana stood near the window, the curtain barely parted as she watched the street below.
The cultist had risen from the couch as well, posture straight, alert.
They had been waiting.
Aldric narrowed his eyes at Draven.
"What the hell did you do?" he asked. "Don't tell me you actually went out to rob someone."
Lyriana spoke before Draven could respond.
"The town has been surrounded."
Her tone was calm.
Measured.
"Knights. Quiet perimeter formation."
Aldric blinked.
"…Surrounded?"
He turned slowly toward Draven.
"Who the hell did you go rob?"
"Shut the fuck up," Draven replied flatly.
The humor drained from Aldric's expression.
Draven's red eyes were colder than usual.
Sharper.
"It's the female knight I crossed paths with at the border."
The room quieted further.
Aldric's brows lifted.
"…Her?"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I saw her too. I was flying fast, so I only caught a brief glance. Didn't think much of it."
Draven's gaze hardened.
"She saw my face."
Lyriana nodded faintly.
"Then she guessed."
"Or confirmed," Draven corrected.
Aldric clicked his tongue.
"So what's the plan?" he asked. "We break through?"
Draven glanced toward the door, listening to the faint disturbances beyond the walls.
"No."
A short pause.
"They surrounded the town quietly. That suggests containment and search—not immediate assault."
"For now," Lyriana added.
Draven inclined his head once.
"We move before they tighten the net."
His gaze shifted briefly to Vaelith and the sleeping children in her arms.
"No prolonged engagement."
Aldric's grin returned slowly.
"So we're breaking out anyway."
Draven adjusted the cloak around his shoulders, the fabric settling into shadow.
"We leave the moment we identify the weakest point in their formation."
Outside—
Faintly—
The distant rhythm of armored boots echoed through the night.
Measured.
Disciplined.
Closing in.