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Chapter Title: Business Trip, Dark Truth
The morning air was soft and still.
Alora stirred slowly in the bed, her lashes fluttering open, only to see Diago already dressed, standing near the window. He hadn't noticed she was awake yet. His back was to her, broad and tense, his hand resting against the glass like he was trying to steady himself.
Something felt different.
"Diago?" her voice came out sleepy, unsure.
He turned around, expression unreadable. "You're awake."
She sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest. "Why are you dressed… so early?"
He looked at her for a long moment before answering.
"I have to leave for a while."
She blinked, confused. "Leave? Where are you going?"
He walked over to the edge of the bed, not sitting, just looking down at her.
"Business trip," he said flatly. "Won't be long."
Her heart sank a little at the distance in his tone. "How long is… 'won't be long'?"
"A few days. Maybe less."
She looked away, then back up at him, eyes soft, voice barely a whisper.
"You'll come back soon… right?"
He hesitated for a second—just a second—before nodding. "Yeah."
Her bottom lip trembled, just slightly. She reached for his hand and held it between both of hers, her small fingers barely wrapping around his.
"I'll miss you," she said, her voice warm and clinging. "The bed won't feel right without you in it…"
He didn't say anything at first.
Just stared down at her.
Her hair was messy. Her eyes still heavy with sleep. But she was looking at him like he was her whole world.
Something in his chest tightened.
"I'll come back soon," he finally said. Quiet. Firm. "Just take care of yourself."
She gave a soft, shy smile, then leaned forward and hugged him around the waist, resting her cheek against his stomach.
He didn't hug her back at first.
But then, slowly, one hand came up to stroke her hair.
That was all.
No kiss. No goodbye.
He turned and left the room.
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Scene Transition – A few hours later
The wind was harsher out here, where the real world thinned and shadows whispered along the edges of reality.
Diago stood at the edge of the old cemetery grounds. The black car pulled up behind him, and Thomas stepped out, dressed in all black as always, face grim.
"She doesn't know, does she?" Thomas asked, voice low.
"No," Diago replied, eyes locked on the cracked stone gate ahead of them. "And she won't."
Thomas scoffed. "You're still hiding it from her. That you're a vampire. That you're not even from here."
Diago shot him a look. "She's not ready."
"Or you're not ready to watch her look at you like a monster."
The silence that followed was sharp.
"She thinks you're going on a business trip?" Thomas added, raising a brow.
Diago's jaw tightened. "It's easier that way."
Thomas didn't push it. Instead, he opened the trunk and pulled out the obsidian dagger—cold, dark, ancient.
"The gate opens tonight. They're expecting you. But the Council isn't pleased."
"When are they ever?" Diago muttered.
"You've been gone too long," Thomas said. "They're calling it betrayal."
"Let them."
"Just… don't lose control while you're down there."
Diago looked up at the darkening sky. "I won't."
But even as he said it… part of him knew he wasn't sure.
Not when everything inside him burned to return to that girl with the soft voice, the big eyes, and the way she said I'll miss you like it actually meant something.
He closed his eyes briefly… and then stepped toward the gate.
The stones began to shift.
The Underworld was opening.
And hell was waiting for its prince.
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